#he admits it pains him and he reminisces of the past yet it's so easy to get angry and it's so easy to build up walls

[torgawl]

do you think part of the reason diluc still struggles with his resentment towards kaeya is because kaeya is more like what crepus wished diluc to be? crepus was so proud of diluc for his accomplishments as a knight and lived his dream through him as well and we know how much crepus' approval meant for diluc, more than any title or doing. i sometimes wonder if diluc feels hurt knowing that kaeya gets to live the equivalent to his past life as a knight as if nothing happened when he had to make sacrifices for his own peace of mind and sense of justice. i wonder if that's what pains him the most, not the fact kaeya ommited the truth about his past for so many years but having felt like he was the only one who cared to do something regarding his father's death and who showed any sense of uprightness when confronted with the knights' request to cover their mistake and negligence. i always think about how diluc might have felt like everything was a lie and his sense of betrayal. but maybe that didn't matter as much as having the support of his brother and someone he could share his pain with would have mattered. maybe the worst thing wasn't what kaeya did but what he didn't do; maybe it was never about his actions but the lack thereof.

[alovesreading]

Chicken Shop Date | Part 8 |

By @imagine-that-100​​​ and @alovesreading​​​

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 28.6k

A/N: Hey besties!! We’re back and this one’s another fun one for you! We were reminiscing about the UK tour writing this one, giving those good days a CSD twist and we hope you enjoy it loads. It was so much fun to write the shit everyone would get up to on the road, but can you believe this one was meant to be the end of this series? Mentalllllllll. Please make sure to check out the author’s note at the end of this as it’s an important one. Thanks for reading! Enjoy! xx

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | 

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

~*~*~*~ 14th January ~*~*~*~

“Baby please.”

The begging has been going on for about half an hour. It’s come and gone in waves but Matty’s getting more and more desperate and more persistent.

“Please baby, please.” Matty pouts, looking pained now, “I need you.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, in yet another way of questioning him. His arms are tight around your waist, not letting you move from straddling his lap because he thinks that will be how he gets his way.

“You’re being so needy.” You smirk, shaking your head, not giving in to his pitiful pleas.

“Please, please, please.” He looks like he could start crying and it takes everything in you not to laugh. You try and push yourself up off him but he grips your hips even tighter, not letting you move an inch away.

“Matty.” You sigh, your hands resting on his shoulders as you tell him, “I can’t.”

“You can.” Matty changes tactics then and leans in and kisses his way up your neck until he’s whispering in your ear, “Please baby, I really want you to come.”

“No,” You grab a handful of his curls then and pull him back so you can look at him and say, “I can’t come on tour with you Matty.”

Your boyfriend whines, “But you said before I even asked the question that you don’t have anything planned until you go to Copenhagen in February. And you’re coming to half the fucking dates anyway. Please.”

“I will be in the way.” You shake your head.

He promises, “You won’t!”

“Matty, I would be like a spare part, not to mention your tour bus would be full to the brim if I tagged along.” You shake your head, not seeing at all how he could change your mind.

“You wouldn’t,” He frowns, silently scorning you for thinking like that before a hint of a grin comes to his face as he says, “And you’d be sleeping in my bunk, with me.”

“That's going to be so comfy,” You roll your eyes, “Two tall people in a coffin sized bunk for more than two weeks.”

“Thanks for admitting I’m tall baby, but listen.” He looks all proud of himself for his height for a second before he goes into getting his points across again, “We’re in hotels in Cardiff and back home for Manchester so it’s only like a week on the bus really.”

“The bus isn’t the issue Matty.” You sigh, giving him the honest answer, “The issue is I’ll be in the way, feeling useless.”

The bunk wouldn’t be an issue for you at all. You both practically sit on each other's lap when you’re with no other company anyway so sharing a small bed will be the least of your worries. You just know that you’ll feel useless and that you’re a hindrance to things running smoothly.

“Charli’s coming,” Matty raises his eyebrows, “You saying she’s useless?”

“She has musical value.” Your excuses fall easily from your lips, but you can’t help but smile at the way he’s begging, “Can’t you just be happy with me coming to the dates I’m already coming to. You’ll see me every five days.”

“So there's absolutely no reason you can’t see me for the other four in between.” Matty acts playfully annoyed, saying that through his teeth before he leans in to kiss you. “Besides, you really think you’re coming to the gig and then I just leave you that night? Absolutely not… I have needs.”

“You have my Instagram.” You backchat and Matty groans loudly.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he says, “Whilst I love that you put your Golden Globes dress on there for me to wank to Y/N, I’d prefer it if you were just there to wank me off instead.”

“So romantic.” You snort in laughter.

“Please, you’re obsessed with me and my boys and my music.” Matty pouts with absolutely no dignity left, “And I’m obsessed with you. Please come on tour with me?”

“You’re right, I am obsessed with you,” You smile, kissing his nose to combat the bad news you’re about to give him, “But no, I’m not coming on tour, and that’s that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

So, Matty persuaded you to come on tour.

It ended up being as easy as him teasing an orgasm out of you, followed later by three phone calls. The first to Amelia, where he asked for proof that you were free - which you were - and then asked if he could steal her best friend away to join him on tour, and Amelia only laughed but didn’t hesitate at all to say of course.

The second call was to his manager Jamie. Where Matty asked Jamie to explicitly tell you how it was not an issue if you came along, and he even said that you could help their photographer Jordan put together a few social media posts if you really wanted something to do. But you were welcome to come along regardless and that the 1975 family would be lucky to have you.

And the third call was to the queen of pop herself, Miss Charli XCX. And it was Charli who really made you agree to joining them as she pleaded with you to tag along. She jokes how she can’t be the only groupie to come along on tour with them (Carly apparently didn’t count) and if you’re really honest, you just can’t say no to Charli at all. It feels wrong to, so after ten minutes of her and Matty giving you their best arguments, you gave in and agreed to join them.

That evening you and Matty went over to your flat where you packed a large suitcase full of everything you could need, and the next day you were on the tour bus with them heading on the rest of their UK tour. And god, you were so glad you agreed to join them.

There’s never a dull moment in that tour bus, it’s either the lads managing to make everyone laugh with their random occurrences, sharing spliffs turning into funny stories being aired for everyone to laugh at or games that end up in the same interesting way they started as.

Being around for soundcheck felt like you’d won some kind of prize. A glimpse into how it all works is so entertaining for you, not to mention them singing to an empty arena that pretty much just has you, Charli, and Carly in it is so much fun.

There have been so many times that you’ve caught yourself just staring up at them on stage and being in awe all over again. But Matty can’t help but find you so entertaining, you’re either singing loudly along at the barrier before Charli pulls you to dance with her, and he is smiling the whole way through what he usually finds boring and inconvenient.

Matty has absolutely adored having you come along on tour. Your presence alone makes him so much more joyful, and everyone who was present for the beginning of the tour has seen the difference. He feels more himself, more alive, and so much happier. And it’s all down to you.

The boring moments on the tour bus, you made them so much better for him. The hours he had to sit with his vocal steamer on, it made it so much nicer when you were lying with your head in his lap or his in yours. You’d both play with each other's hair, listen to music, and now and again chat to each other and the others. But Matty couldn’t stop grinning the whole time.

Even during the first few performances when you were somewhere lost in the crowd and he couldn’t find you, still you made your presence known to him. The first time it was just accidental though, you had written him a note as everyone was discussing the setlist and you’d slipped it into his pocket as a joke thinking he would notice and check.

Matty, however, hadn’t noticed your sleight of hand in the green room and he later found the note when he reached into his pocket half way through the Being Funny section of the set. He pulled out the crumpled up piece of paper and opened it on stage, accidentally laughing down the microphone when he read your words.

I’m trying this again: play antichrist x Pretty, please xx Picture me pouting at you, how can you say no to that? xoxox

The singer was well aware the crowd of people were confused about the note that they could see on the screens, and his laughter, but all Matty did was pocket the note again (fully intending to keep it) and grab his guitar and start playing the chords to I’m In Love With You.

The next day he caught you putting another note in his pocket but he kept quiet, wanting to read it on stage again as a little reminder of you to look forward too during his set. And it's again before he’s due to play I’m In Love With You that his hand dips into his pocket and he finds the note.

He’s smiling instantly, expecting it to be another note pleading for Antichrist, but instead this one is a little different, yet still entirely you.

I need a hug and six months of sleep x (maybe a kiss too)

When he laughs at this one, he hears George ask what's so funny through his in-ears but he elects to ignore him. Once again just picking up his guitar and singing the entirety of I’m In Love With You with a huge grin on his face.

The 3rd time it’s Cardiff night 2 and when he reads the note that night he knows you’ve done it on purpose. You’re a fucking menace who loves to tease him even when you’re not in his presence. As that night the note read:

You better think of me on that settee x

He didn’t laugh that night, no instead his dick twitched and he was reminded about your morning in the hotel and how you were both interrupted before anything could happen (you fell straight asleep as soon as you got in bed the night before) and you had been subtly teasing him all day. Whispering things in his ear, leaving longing touches on him knowing he couldn’t react how he would if the two of you were alone, and then the note.

He didn’t need you to explicitly instruct him to think of you during consumption, as he always did anyway. But this time he put a little more effort into his performance, hoping to tease you a little in the crowd.

And tease you he did. That night you watched as he teased himself on screen, smoking and letting his hands trail down his body until he squeezed himself through his trousers, and your mouth went dry with want when he simulated pulling on someone's hair. On your hair.

Needless to say that when you got back to the hotel room that night, you were on your back almost instantly, Matty’s head dipping between your thighs until you were on the verge of coming undone on his tongue. But he edged you time and time again until you were whimpering, pleading for him to fuck you like no one else could.

It was lucky you were spending another night at the hotel really because Matty doesn’t know what he would have done if you were both stuck not being able to find any relief until another two days' time when you were due in Glasgow. Thankfully he didn’t have to find out. You both alleviated the tension between you that night and again the following morning before you all returned to the bus to start the long drive up to Glasgow on their off day.

The journey wasn’t so bad, you got to have a good laugh with the band, especially loving the time you got to spend with Adam and Carly’s little boy. You got to play with him when he wasn’t down for a nap and Matty loved every second of seeing you and his nephew interact.

You remember that afternoon, Carly had just changed the baby after he woke up from his nap and she’d let you have him. One of your favourite things to do with him was sit him down on your lap and read him one of his little books he had and let him blabber on and on as he tried to copy the words you were saying. But he had started crying in the middle of you trying to get him to say ‘orange’ and you couldn’t find a reason for why he was so upset.

Uncle Matty had come to the rescue and got him from you, and it was when he picked him up that he realised he needed another change, so you went with him to change the baby’s nappy.

It was going so well, you distracting baby Hann keeping him happy and calm as Matty changed him, but Matty made the awful mistake of letting him hold the baby powder. It was once he splayed out the new nappy under him, the baby waved his arms happily at the freedom, Matty had been bathed in talcum powder.

Matty immediately froze, face and hair covered in white, his top had a few streaks of white powder sticking to it and baby Hann had managed to get some on his little chest and arm but he had giggled loudly with you when you cackled at the situation.

Blowing harshly to get rid of the talcum off his lips, Matty huffed out a soft, “I didn’t know it was open.” which amused you even more, doubling over in laughter but taking away the powder bottle from the baby’s hands so he wouldn’t continue making a mess.

Your boyfriend loved to pride himself in doing everything right so you’d taken the mishap to tease him a bit, “Uncle Matty struggling for once, who would’ve thought?”

He’d only rolled his eyes at you, and you watched out of the corner of your eye how he rubbed the powder off himself as you wiped it off the baby and finished changing his nappy.

When you’d gone back to the lounge with everyone and placed a happy again baby Hann on your lap and continued trying to get him to say the names to different fruits, you found him looking at you with adoring eyes.

But not even the sparkle in his eye would make you forget what had happened, so, letting the baby speak gibberish as he harshly pointed at the banana on the book’s page, you turned to Matty and sighed, “I wish I had taken a picture.”

His smile had fallen and he glared at you before rolling his eyes to chat back sarcastically, “I’m sure you do.”

And the rest of the day you had made a joke of ruffling his hair swearing there was some more talcum powder left. The last time you do this, he ends up telling you it’s just his grey hairs and you exaggerate a gasp, pretending like you’ve just now realised.

“Right, I forgot you’re an actual grandad.” You sucked air through your teeth like the fact was making you wince.

But then he went all cute when he flipped it around by reminding you, “And you’re a grandma so it’s meant to be, really.”

A chuckle was your response, which died quickly when he pressed his lips on yours to kiss you sweetly, half to shut you up and half because he’d been dying to for the past few minutes.

That afternoon, both of you ended up catching some alone time, which was really nice when you’re on a bus with sixteen other people. You’re in the back lounge listening to one of your many playlists, both with an AirPod in each ear and lying on the back settee with Matty behind you while you’re watching as the world goes by as you travel further north.

You’re sitting between Matty’s legs, your back against his chest and you both occasionally catch yourselves singing or humming along to the music. Matty wouldn’t change the scenario for the world, he gets to lie there with you against him, kissing the top of your head whenever he feels like, and he absentmindedly plays with the end of your hair.

The singer doesn’t even mind when one of his songs starts up, he finds it amusing that you have absolutely no shame with it being on there. And knowing now that it’s one of your new favourites he even loves hearing you softly sing along.

“Do you think that I’ve forgotten?” You quietly sing, “Do you think that I’ve forgotten? Do you think that I’ve forgotten, about you?”

Hearing that though makes Matty frown, and he waits until you sing it again as confirmation. His biggest fan in the world and now also his girlfriend, has got the lyrics wrong.

He’s trying not to laugh when he gets your attention, “Baby?”

“Yeah.” You ask, tilting your head back a little to look up at him.

He looks really pretty with the way the dimming light is hitting his face through the window. His skin is like it's glowing with the way the sun shines on him, and you find yourself thinking you’re so lucky again especially with the way he’s smiling at you.

Matty can’t help but smirk, “You know you’re getting the lyrics to that wrong, right?”

“No I’m not.” Instantly you frown up at him, entirely defensive.

“Yes,” Matty tries not to laugh, “You are.”

Your frown deepens, your whole face scrunching up as you ask, “Which bit?”

“The main bit,” He tells you, “Do you think I have forgotten… you’re singing ‘do you think that I've forgotten’.”

“They’re the lyrics.” You nod, looking at him like he’s stupid.

He can’t stop himself from chuckling, “No they’re not, baby.”

“Yeah, they are,” You nod, sitting up a little and turning to look at him properly, “I’ve been singing that since the album dropped.”

“Y/N,” Matty grins, entirely amused by you not believing him, “I wrote the song, I think I know the lyrics.”

At that you scoff, “You literally tell people that they are brave for getting lyrics tattooed because you have a tendency for changing them.”

You have a point there to be fair. So Matty just nods down to your phone and tells you to, “Listen to the song again then if you don’t believe me.”

So you do, you start About You again and when you really listen to the lyrics, the little shit might be right. But you’re not having it still, and your denial only makes this even funner to Matty.

You huff when the song ends, still frowning, “As soon as this bus stops we’re going to HMV so I can buy a CD or a vinyl or something so I can see the lyrics.”

“Baby.” Matty says knowingly, whilst grinning like a fool.

“No,” But you’re not having it, “I don’t believe it until I see it officially in the lyrics in the album.”

“Y/N,” Your boyfriend tries to remind you, “I literally wrote the song.”

“And yet I don't trust you even a little bit.” You say, getting yourself up and giving him a snarky smile before you pinch the airpod out of his ear and head back to the others in the main lounge.

On your way you can hear Matty laughing but he doesn’t say anything when he enters the room a moment later. All that he does is grin, knowing he’s right for once, and the grin stays on his face for another hour until you’re pulling him off the bus and into the bustling city centre.

You had to be quick, getting your shoes and coats on and into an anonymous enough state that you wouldn’t be recognised. Well, mostly Matty, hip putting his hood up instantly wrapping himself up in his big coat with sunglasses on as the light was starting to disappear. You did feel like an idiot when he put sunglasses on you too, but then he reminded you that you were keeping your relationship out of everyone else's business for now so he even pulled up your hood too.

You were on a mission to reach HMV before it closed and thankfully you got there with about 20 minutes to spare. It was nice walking hand in hand with Matty though, and chatting about what was going on around you and all the stuff that you liked that you saw in different shop windows.

Matty tried to suggest you go in and have a look before everything closes but you pulled him along with you until you were inside HMV and had a CD of Being Funny In A Foreign Language in your hands. Your boyfriend finds you adorable when you had a grin on your face when you picked it up, as if it wasn’t going to be on the shelf. He can’t help but smile at you.

But his smile falls from his face when you walk up to the A section and pick up a copy of AM and tell him, “I’m going to get Flo to get him to sign it for me.”

Matty just shakes his head and pulls you along to the till, wanting more time wandering around while the shops were still open. Once you handed over the CDs, thankfully Matty managed not to let you pay for them as he beat you to getting his phone on the card machine, something which you scorned him for until you were out of the shop and he shut you up with a kiss.

With the rest of the evening free, you and Matty ended up having an impromptu date. You ended up walking to the Cineworld which wasn’t a far walk and you ended up going to watch M3GAN as there weren't many other good options. This you thankfully ended up paying for, much to Matty’s dismay, but you reminded him that you said you would be paying on the next date so you got your drinks and popcorn too.

Both of you sat in the back corner where you happily remained undetected by anyone and Matty couldn’t stop smiling at the fact he got to hold your hand for the entirety of the film. Even if the film was mediocre at best, he was glad he got to chuckle away with it with you by his side.

Only when you both made it back to the bus just after 10:30, did you find that it was just Adam, Carly, and baby still on board, as everyone else had gone out drinking. They were watching a film in the back lounge so you and Matty just said a quick hello before keeping to yourselves.

There was a quick conversation about possibly going to join the others but Matty didn’t want to. He selfishly wanted you all to himself for a while longer. It's when you get your shit out of your bag that you notice the CDs that until now have remained untouched. You pull Being Funny out with a smile and turn to your boyfriend who’s already noticed what you have and is smirking at you, waiting expectantly.

You’re eager to wipe that look from his face so you sit down beside him and carefully take the CD out of the sleeve it comes in and you pick out the lyrics sheet. Finding About You is easy but then your world crumbles, you’re wrong.

Do you think I have forgotten about you?

Matty cackles when your face falls and you just silently fold the sheet back up and slip it back beside the CD with a look of defeat on your face. Your boyfriend pulls you into him and you fall into his chest as you stubbornly stay rigid in his arms.

He giggles, “I told you so.”

You push yourself out of his grasp, jokingly keeping the annoyed facade going and you push the cd into his chest as you get up, “You can sign it now for that comment, dick.”

“Aw,” Matty coos and throws the CD to the table. He jokes as he wraps his arms around you, still wanting to laugh, “Knew you were only with me to make money on Ebay.”

“Got that right.” You nod and Matty just cackles as he places kisses on your cheeks.

The following night in Glasgow when soundchecking, Matty pulled you onto the stage with him as he sang the correct version of About You, and he pulled you around the ‘house’ with him. And you pretending not to be impressed lasted about 10 seconds because you just ended up grinning and singing along the entire time.

Even more so when he had you kneel down on the floor in front of the table and he stood on it and reached down with his microphone to put it against your chin, exactly like he did to the girl in the Robbers music video. Needless to say, you got all flustered but you played your part anyway, even sticking your tongue out like the girl did in the video and Matty let his fingers dance across your tongue for a second.

When you knelt back on your ankles, so you could sing along with Polly, Matty then got down and sat on the edge of the table and he slowly leant in to kiss you. “Having fun?” He mouthed and you gently nodded until his lips took yours. It felt magical kissing him on stage, especially because you knew it all felt a little bit meta with it looking exactly like the Robbers video as he was singing the follow up to it.

That night on stage at the actual show, your note made Matty laugh, reminding him of yesterday with the talcum powder incident with his nephew.

Greys looking beautiful tonight grandad x

The Glasgow crowd was great, you loved every single second of being in that crowd. You spent a bit of your time with Jordan that night, going to different places with him and watching him take pictures from afar before you ultimately made yourself at home in the pit.

You thought that this being your 6th show, you would have somehow found it less painful to leave the pit during Give Yourself A Try, but it’s not. It still pains you each time you do it, but thankfully you can still hear it when you disappear off to head backstage with Jamie.

It ends up being an hour and a half before you end up back on the bus, and that night you were heading straight down to Manchester. Somewhere you’re really eager to go because you’d only been a handful of times and you really didn’t know the ins and outs of the city like Matty does, so when he promised you a tour you got really excited at the thought. You couldn’t wait till tomorrow to get there.

But it was that night on the bus when you needed to squeeze out of the bunk to get yourself a drink that you noticed your tote from the previous day was folded up on the table. You grab it, intending to put it in the mesh pocket of yours and Mattys bunk so you don’t lose it, but instead you feel CDs. And that’s when you remember your purchases.

You take them out, smiling when you see AM, knowing Flo will find it funny that you bought it. But it’s when you see Being Funny that you’re a little shocked and your heart doubles in size.

Never for a second did you think Matty would actually sign the CD for you, but he did sign his name in the top right hand corner with three kisses underneath it. But it’s what he’s written on the left side that has you melting.

// Be A Riot //

It’s then that you know that the man who wrote that for you is probably the most special person in your life, as even though it may seem like such a simple lyric to write, it means so much more. You fully allow yourself to give in to every little happiness he brings you from that moment on, and it starts with you going back to your bunk and plastering hundreds of kisses across his face before you settle down and whisper to each other just how obsessed you are and falling asleep in each other's arms.

~*~*~*~ 20th January ~*~*~*~

Manchester is so much fun, especially with Matty by your side. He really is the best tour guide, and he had been everywhere else you’d been, but he seems to come alive in his hometown.

He holds your hand the entire time, both of you dressed in your disguises so no one spots you wondering around the day of their gig. It made you giggle at the amount of people in 1975 tops that you passed but thankfully Matty evaded detection.

You felt like you were watching your boyfriend's Zane Lowe interview all over again because Matty took you around the same places the video showed. But it was so much fun with Matty explaining to you properly and in detail the shit that he and the boys got up to when they were younger.

First he takes you around the Northern Quarter, he shows you the square of bars that will be heaving later on that night and he shows you the spot where he wrote The City back in the day and you don’t even try and hide your smile from him.

Going to Afflecks and seeing their poster up on the wall surrounded by so many other posters of musical legends fills your heart and you can’t help yourself taking a quick picture of it to keep for yourself.

You were gutted you couldn’t take a picture with it but when you look up the stairs to the right and you catch a glimpse of a photo booth, you almost drag Matty upstairs with you so you can freely take a picture together without risking getting caught.

He’s faster than you when he pays for the pictures once you’re inside and the curtain’s drawn, and you both quickly put your hoods down and take off your sunglasses so that you don’t take pictures in your disguises.

At first you think 6 poses is going to be a job for you to come up with in less than 5 seconds in between pictures but your boyfriend makes you giggle so much that it comes natural when you mess about in front of the camera.

Matty’s cute though, cupping your jaw and giving you a sweet kiss for the last one and when you see them all printed, you melt in his arms. He steals one last kiss as you finish getting yourselves back into your disguises and you make sure to carefully put the photo strips away before you walk out of the booth.

Before you have to go back to the venue for soundcheck, he takes you to Gorilla and when you get there he tells you what he has planned for the gig they’re going to have there.

He nonchalantly says, “We’re doing all of self titled.” and you gasp loudly in response.

“What?!” Is the only thing you can say after that information has been dumped on you.

Matty chuckles in amusement, “Yeah… Thought you’d like that news.”

“Not when I have a trip to Copenhagen planned for Amelia’s Birthday!” You hide your face in your hands and take a deep breath before asking, “Deluxe version or just the regular version?”

“What happens if I say deluxe…” Matty taunts you with a smirk, but when you drop your hands and glare at him very seriously, he presses his lips together not to laugh.

“You better not.” It’s all you warn him with, even the thought of that happening makes you sick.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, dropping a kiss on your cheek and then one on the corner of your mouth and right before he can trap your lips in a sweet kiss, he whispers, “The regular version.”

You allow yourself to melt into him for a bit, but when his tongue teases your bottom lip, you pull away to make him suffer a bit for what you’re going to miss soon. Your hand comes up to his cheek and you pat it softly, “It better be.”

Going back to the venue was a bit more hectic than you expected, you had to be very careful with not getting caught by the big queue of fans lining up outside the venue for the show. But once inside, thanks to Mark and Scott being the absolute best, being around everyone again is a relief. A newfound sense of familiarity that you’re growing to cherish, therefore you’re dreading the end of tour in only 10 days.

When you walk out to watch the lads on stage and you see Charli up there with them, George guiding her into the house through the door and showing her the way around, your jaw drops.

“Are you the surprise tonight?!” You ask loudly, your hand hovering over your mouth in shock.

Charli offers you a smirk and nods, “Yes baby!”

You squeal in excitement, and watch as she quickly rehearses what her entrance will be like. She puts on a little show for you as she sings a few scattered lines of Vroom Vroom into a microphone that doesn’t play through the speakers. Of course she couldn’t soundcheck properly so that no one could hear and ruin the surprise, but she trusted that it would go smoothly when the time came for her to walk in on stage.

Carly, Charli and you are standing against the barricade fence after your pop star friend has finished her brief rehearsal and you watch the lads soundcheck with a big smile on your faces.

Their banter makes you all laugh, and you all join in taking the piss of each other here and there. When your boyfriend taps his trouser’s pocket with his brows raised, you know it’s his silent way to ask about getting a note tonight and you wink at him in response. A cute blush rises on his cheeks and his voice grows sweeter when he starts singing the chorus to Oh Caroline when he’s instructed through his in-ears.

Your note makes him giggle as he flushes from head to toe, he can feel his cheeks warm and that feeling you give him envelops him entirely. A bubble of happiness bursts inside him and it coats every inch of him, all because you said…

Obsessed with you x

He sings with a bit more intent after that. The fact that it’s Manchester they’re playing in and that he wants to impress you even more, makes for his voice to come out beautifully sultry and you’re left in awe hearing him come to life on stage.

Like you expected, Amelia was shocked to the core when you facetime her with the little bit of signal you get as Charli is about to walk on stage, and you all but scream the lyrics out along with the pop queen and the rest of the crowd.

After that the gig just kept getting better though. Your boyfriend got a Greggs sausage roll thrown at him and he was giggling as he picked it up and took a bite and then spat it out. It certainly gave everyone a laugh, the band included, and they continued their set.

When the gig finishes and you head back to the greenroom, Matty comes all sweaty to you and traps you in a hug that then turns to him wrapping an arm around your waist and using his other hand to cup your jaw and pull you in for a dizzying kiss.

“Obsessed with you too.” Matty says once he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours and nudging your nose with his in a cute eskimo kiss.

He feels as you scrunch up your nose and you lean in for another quick kiss, humming into it as a sign of approval. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of hearing him say those words to you, it always manages to make you putty in his hands.

Drinking with everyone and enjoying the wave of energy after the show is so fulfilling every time. An excuse to celebrate the band’s talent and their continuous delivery on a great show. So it’s easy to let time fly by as you do: cracking jokes, laughing at the guys’ occurrences, sharing their funny views of the crowd, talking about how mental it had gotten when Charli came out.

Soon enough it’s time to leave the venue but you’re surprised when you get to the bus and your boyfriend tells you to get your stuff because you’re staying somewhere else tonight.

You were expecting a hotel room to be the destination but when you sit in the back of the Uber Matty has ordered, he tells you with a massive grin that the plan for tonight is, “We’re staying at Denise’s.”

Matty doesn’t miss the way your face lights up at the news and he feels your heating cheeks when you hide your face in the crook of his neck with a soft squeal of excitement only he hears.

It takes about half an hour to get to Denise’s house so when you walk through the front door, you find her half asleep waiting for you to get there. She greets you sweetly, this time remembering your name instead of calling you ‘chicken nugget date girl’, and only after a few minutes of small talk she excuses herself to go to bed.

Lincoln isn’t far behind her, making everyone a brew before he goes upstairs to join his wife who’s probably already asleep despite him making her a cup of tea too. Louis chats with the both of you a little more before he calls it a night too.

Your boyfriend doesn’t waste more time after his family leaves to drag you upstairs, promising he’d show you around tomorrow. He was also knackered and he had wanted to have you all to himself for ages now, so it’s very quick that you find yourself walking into his childhood bedroom and smiling at the glimpse into a younger Matty’s mind.

You look at the pictures he has on the walls, of the four boys among other friends who he went to school with or met at various parties. You spotted Flo in a few of them too and it’s so adorable to you that you get a glimpse into the people they used to be.

You were smiling and asking questions about them all, even telling Matty that a photobooth picture of him and Flo from when they clearly first got together was cute. You like that he hasn’t shut off that part of his life and the picture is still up, because after all his experiences have made him into the man who he is today.

Matty smiles at the memory of it but he just takes the photobooth picture that the two of you took today and puts it up in a free spot on his wall. That warms your heart deeply, you can’t stop grinning as the both of you then get settled.

The singer jumps on his bed, flopping down on it and you giggle watching his hair flying everywhere and eventually coming to rest almost over his eyes. Matty just lets out a long sigh, clearly loving the feeling of lying on a proper bed again and you must admit you can’t wait to join him.

Matty makes no effort to get himself undressed, other than kicking off his shoes and socks and pulling his tie even looser. Instead he watches you, not even bothering to hide how much he’s grinning as he watches you make yourself at home in his room.

His grin only gets bigger when he watches you get undressed and he mutters under his breath how fucking good you look which just makes you flush a little but you choose to mostly ignore him and instead ask for one of his tops. He points over to a drawer where he knows there will be some and he smiles watching as you pull out his Revelation Records original bold top and slip it on.

You finish changing and come to sit down on his bed, grabbing your skincare stuff and start blindly applying it to yourself. That is until Matty exaggeratedly coughs a few times clearly expectantly as he wants you to do his too like you’ve been doing every night you’ve been away.

He’s all smiles as you rub the various creams into his face, even kissing the palm of your hand and then over the tattoo on your wrist followed by a small thank you when you finish. After that though he puckers his lips at you, and you giggle as you scooch down the bed and get comfy enough to kiss him how he wants.

Your heart feels very full, being in your boyfriends childhood bedroom, kissing him goodnight after he’s put on an excellent hometown show, with only the warm light of his bedside lamp letting you see just how big his smile gets. It’s really difficult for your heart not to stretch to a certain place too early, but you love everything about this new relationship despite only being in it for such a short amount of time.

But with him kissing you so sweetly, how he always does, and him pulling you into him so you’ve got practically no space between you, it’s not a shock he always makes your heart stutter. You love getting lost kissing him, it’s certainly a favourite pastime of yours.

And you love the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair, how he clutches you tighter when you do to his curls and the groans he lets out when you pull on them.

You do just that and just like you were expecting, his mouth hangs open for a second when he lets out a groan. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, giddy from the affection and the realisation of how you’re growing to anticipate his actions.

The sound of your bubbly laugh lights up a spark inside him. The walls of the dam that contains all that he feels for you burst and it all comes pouring hot and sticky, melting his insides and flipping a switch that makes him eager to translate the mess of his emotions into something you can understand.

He presses your lips a bit harder then, hips bucking forward and pressing in between your parted legs which has you gasping. Your tongues meet and taste each other when he catches his chance to do so, fingers digging into your skin as his hold grows with intention.

Matty doesn’t want to let you go. He doesn’t think he ever will.

But he won’t get ahead of himself. He wants to make you feel good, like you do to him with just your presence, with the simple sweetness of your laughter, the warmth of your touch, your silly jokes at his expense. He could go on and on, every day adding a new thing to the list.

In your head, a very different train of thought is going on. You’re entirely too aware of where you are and who is in the same space as you, so feeling him getting increasingly eager about getting off with you, you have to be the one to cut things before they move past a point of no return.

“Matty.” You smile, knowing where this road leads and it’s not somewhere the both of you can go in his childhood bedroom.

“Mmmh.” He hums against your lips, keeping them against yours not wanting to stop kissing you at all.

You repeat yourself, “Matty,” this time hoping he takes the hint.

He reluctantly pulls away, quickly asking, “What?” as he pecks your lips a few more times.

You’re grinning as you tell him with knowing eyes, “Calm down.”

But that makes your boyfriend frown a little, “What’s wrong?”

“We’re in your Mum's house.” You remind him, almost finding it funny he forgot, “She'll hear us. Your whole family will hear us.”

“No they won’t.” Matty shakes his head, knowing he’s not been caught out before so he doesn’t expect he will now. “Relax, I wanna make you feel good baby.”

“Matty.” You try to reason with him, still not entirely sold on the idea.

The sheer embarrassment of Denise knowing you’ve shagged her son in her house a mere 20 days after first getting with him is something you don’t think you could ever live down. You’re aware she’s a legend and a lovely person so she would probably never comment on it even if she did hear you, but you don't know if you could handle the embarrassment of being looked at with knowing eyes.

“Come on, I know you can bite those pretty lips to stop yourself being loud.” Matty grins, dragging his thumb over your already puffy bottom lip. “Can you do that for me baby?”

Instinctively you nod, always wanting to be good for him, but then you realise what you’ve just agreed to, “But-”

Matty’s already chuckling at you giving in and then catching yourself. As soon as he sees that nod of yours he moves his hand from your hip to between your legs and feels that you’ve soaked through your underwear which makes his jaw lock and your ‘but’ catch in your throat and whine.

Your boyfriend starts drawing circles over your clit through your underwear and if he didn’t have the confirmation of what you want already, the buck of your hips into his hand certainly gave it to him. And Matty can’t fucking wait to have you unravel underneath him again, he’s dying to at this point.

Your boyfriend kisses you sweetly again as if he’s not already doing anything sinful, “You gonna let me make you feel good?”

You nod a little in his hold, “Yeah.” pleasure already creeping its way up your spine.

“Good girl.” He smirks before kissing you deeply once more, before pulling away and telling you to, “Relax.”

But there's only so much relaxing you can do when a man is kissing his way down your body, heading to where you want him desperately.

Your boyfriend teases you beyond belief, that sinful tongue of his licking up your already soaked underwear just to make you choke on your breath and bite your bottom lip harder before he decides he wants to play with you a little more. After pulling your underwear off, you expect him to go straight to where you’re already throbbing for him, but no.

Matty decides that now is the time to appreciate a woman’s thighs. Slowly he kisses, licks, and bites his way down your skin, building your anticipation again and again until your hips gain a mind of their own and start bucking towards him, it makes Matty chuckle at the same time you plead for him to stop teasing you.

Only after you beg him once more does he give you what you want. Matty laps at your clit like a man starved, knowing exactly how to tease you now and he smirks to himself when your thighs tremble beside his head before dipping his tongue down to drink you in again.

He notices the way you’re holding your moans to yourself, huffing as he flicks your swollen clit with a skilled tongue, your teeth digging harshly on your bottom lip to quiet your whines when he sucks on your clit.

A pop slices the struggling silence in the room when he pulls back, and you find how at the pressure of keeping quiet, his praise heightens your need by a tenfold. “So good for me baby.” His words fall sweetly from his lips, lashes fluttering as he looks up to you and you nod in agreement, hips writhing as an attempt to get him back to what he was doing.

“Think you can hold those pretty sounds as you cum on my tongue.” Your boyfriend says next, dropping a string of kisses on your inner thigh, taking the opportunity to dig his teeth on your skin as if pushing you to the edge and see how much you can take until you break your silence.

You nod frantically, your eyes closed, teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip only letting the tiniest hum of confirmation spill. And you’re sure Matty smirks again before he moves back to your core, only giving you a few seconds of teasing when his hot breath hits your core and you squirm at the feeling.

His wet and bold tongue comes to meet your dripping centre and it’s a blinding feeling of relief and tightening pleasure that just promises to drive you insane. You’re almost holding your breath so that you don’t make a noise but the faster he becomes in his movements on your clit, the more you fail. Your breath grows heavy and it starts leaving you in gasps, hands clawing at the sheets of the bed so tightly so you don’t let your whines slip past your lips.

Senses go into overdrive, all you can see is white behind your eyelids but your ears are catching so well the wet sounds of his mouth on your slick cunt. Your hips become erratic when the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens to an eye-watering degree.

All he can think of as he watches you writhe beneath him is the word mine. He watches his stunning girlfriend losing her mind at the way his tongue moves. He can't help but stare at the way his girlfriend’s chest rapidly rises and falls as he can see the way her hard nipples stand against the fabric of his top before you use your free hand to tease yourself. You’re all his and Matty forces himself to commit the moment to memory, banking it up for another inevitable lonely tour night when you won't be able to join him.

A breathy and desperate, “Matty, f-fuck,” reaches his ears and, along with your shaking legs and your white knuckle grip on the sheets, it lets him know you’re about to let go. So he hums, encouraging you to give it all to him. And the vibration of it is just what you needed for that tension to snap.

Matty can’t tear his eyes away as you cum on his tongue, your flushed chest heaving as your breaths become messy and your back arches. The taste of you mixed with the sight of you makes him grind his hips harder into his bed, needing that slight bit of stimulation himself.

You come down with a few gasps at the feeling of his tongue still teasing you, sore fingers letting go of the bedding to tug on his curls and pull him away. He looks up, a devilish grin plastered on his face showing he’s proud of what he’s achieved before he dips back down, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

The tight grasp you have on his hair doesn’t deter him, if only it encourages him and you’re left focusing on not making noise instead. You’re biting your tongue so hard just so you don’t make a loud noise but you’re struggling a lot so you just beg, “Matty, please,” as you tug on his locks once more and thankfully he listens.

You pull on his curls until he moves with you and he crawls back up your body. It’s a messy kiss you pull him into, tasting yourself on his tongue has you whining and wanting more of him.

Matty rocks himself into you a few times and the friction of it on your overstimulated clit has you gasping. He’s hard, probably enough for it to begin to be painful, so you break your kiss to ask him, “Do you want me to give you head?”

He kisses you again, his hips grinding against you again, and when you groan he kisses your neck he whispers, “I want to be inside you.”

God, you really want that too, but you know you can’t. “No.” You shake your head.

Matty chuckles, pulling up to ask with a grin of disbelief, as if he can’t feel how wet you’ve already got again through his pants. He teases, “You don’t want to shag me baby?”

He kisses down your neck, bruising his way down your skin drawing short moans out of you as you pull on his hair, wanting him to continue. But then you remember where you are, “Matty, everyone’s gonna hear.”

You only just kept quiet as he was giving you head. You’re going to be absolutely done for if he fucks you too.

“Not if you trust me.” Matty locks eyes with you as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You nod, not trusting anyone more than him at this point.

He grins, pulling on your top a little, “Take this off for me then baby.”

You do as you're told and strip off your top as Matty sheds himself of his clothes. He dumps his tie and his shirt where he was previously lay beside you before getting up to pull his pants and underwear down.

Pressing your thighs together when you see just how hard you’ve made your boyfriend is little relief. Matty’s busy gawking at your body though, aching even more than he was without his restrictive clothing. He pumps himself twice, his breath catching as he does but he can’t stop when he looks at you lying on his bed like that.

Your boyfriend goes to move back to the bed but you shake your head, telling him, “Condom.”

“Thought we scrapped those?” He asks with a curious smile.

You tell him sternly, “I’m not having us make a mess and look at your Mum's face as we put the sheets in the wash.”

It almost makes Matty chuckle, instead he just smiles, “Okay baby.” before routing in his bag to find one.

Matty puts it on with ease before he finds his home perched back between your legs. And considering you ‘didn’t want him to fuck you’, he almost finds it comical how desperate you’re looking beneath him right now.

Your boyfriend kisses you deeply again, you can still taste yourself on his tongue and that along with the way he holds your jaw has you moaning against those sinful lips of his.

The kiss only gets messier as it goes, your hands desperately clutching onto him as he presses himself on you. The heaviness of his cock presses and rubs on your clit as his hips move, in a desperate attempt to chase your second orgasm, you move your hips in tune and it just feels too good for your mind to remember you’re supposed to be quiet.

He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away completely, his hips pulling away as well make you whine at the loss of the delicious friction. But you peel your eyes open to see what he’s doing, thinking that he’s doing this to edge you.

You watch as Matty reaches to the side and you see him grab his tie. He wraps it over the knot that's already in it a few times which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you quiet.” Your boyfriend smirks, “Open.”

Your stomach drops, realising what that means, and you do as you're told. Matty sees the way your eyes get that little bit darker as he puts his tie in your mouth.

When he comes back close to you, pressing himself against you again, he watches your teeth digging into the fabric in your mouth, a moan being muffled by the tie so he smirks seeing that it works.

“Good girl.” Matty praises you, leaning in to have his face hover above yours and watch every little detail on your face as he finally goes to fill you up.

His right hand goes down to guide himself to your centre, teasing your clit by rubbing it with the tip of his cock which elicits a mewl that’s drowned by the fabric on your mouth. He’s enjoying it far too much, the visual of you gagged underneath him and almost desperate to have him inside you makes Matty impossibly hard.

Slowly he stretches you out, biting on his bottom lip as he goes further and when he feels your nails scratching his back as he bottoms out, Matty grabs your arms and pins your wrists over your head. He crosses them so he can keep them in place with his left hand but before he starts moving, he asks for confirmation that you’re not uncomfortable with what he’s just done, “This okay baby?”

Your hasty nodding is entirely amusing to him, he loves seeing you surrendered to him like this. He pulls his hips back the furthest he can without completely exiting you and in a strong swift movement, he bottoms out again.

Slow and hard, that’s the pace he sets and it has your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You had never been gagged before but you find yourself really enjoying it, the thrill of having to have your mouth stuffed with his tie not to get caught has you even more turned on. And adding your hands being pinned over your head as your boyfriend pounds into you, is enough to have you a mess of muffled moans and whines.

Just thinking of the situation has you clenching hard around him and he doesn’t let it go unnoticed, “Oh you like this?” Matty smirks, “Such a whore, aren’t you?”

He feels your thighs tighten around his hips, clearly enjoying being called a whore and it makes his smirk more prominent. His eyes are full of lust as he asks, “Just want me to ruin you, is that right?”

Nodding desperately, you need everything from him now. Your hips buck at him when he does that and you whine a little on the material keeping you quiet. Matty kisses your neck a few times then, and you can feel his smirk, clearly loving having you exactly at his mercy. And you can’t even pretend you’re not loving it either.

“Fuck baby.” Your boyfriend heavily breathes, his eyes darkening that little bit more feeling just how tight you are wrapped around him. “You look so good. Feel fucking amazing.”

He fucks into you mercilessly, quickly finding the angle that has you almost thrashing beneath him and he knows he’s found your g spot. You can’t even meet his thrusts anymore, the knot of pleasure in your lower stomach is almost too much and the blinding heat that stirs inside you has you biting hard on his tie.

Your eyes screw shut and head throws back further into the pillow as he continues whispering vulgar things about how he loves having you like this into your ear and teasing you about just how much you’re enjoying it.

“Come on baby, I can feel you’re close. Cum for me.” Matty says as he kisses just under your ear, biting your earlobe and dragging between his teeth before sucking on the part of your neck that he knows makes you weak. “Please baby, be a good girl and let go for me.”

And it doesn’t take much more than the promise of praise and his hips meeting yours over and over to have you finishing. It hits you and it’s like a blinding white heat runs up your body and takes over your senses.

Matty watches you orgasm beneath him, entirely awestruck at the way you lose yourself. It’s lucky he gagged you because you moan loudly as your high takes over and he can only manage a few more thrusts with how tightly you’re clenching around him.

It’s only seconds before he cums too, filling the condom and moaning down your ear which adds to your own orgasm tenfold. He fucks into you a few more times to drag out the pleasure running through you both before he slows and settles himself, freeing your wrists and pulling his tie from your mouth as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Your arms fall down over his shoulders, entirely weak just like your body feels but you let your fingers run back into his hair when he lifts himself back up looking at you like he’s drunk. You giggle a little before you kiss him and it’s the sweetest sensation after being fucked by him.

Matty grins when he pulls away, and you giggle at each other before Matty leans down and gives you a little eskimo kiss, before again admitting, “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your heart is so full, you don't even hesitate to say back, “Obsessed with you too baby.”

Matty blushes at that which makes you giggle again and you pull on his hair so he comes back for one last kiss. After that you both decide a shower is in order and as Matty disposes of the condom and goes and grabs the both of you a towel, he embarrasses you.

“We’ll have to sneak out tomorrow morning.” He tells you with a small grin on his face.

You ask curiously, “Why?”

“Because that tie did nothing, you were so loud.” Matty tells you, his smile full now.

Your jaw drops at that, thinking back over it and you frown, “No I wasn’t.”

He starts chuckling, disagreeing with you in jest, “So loud baby.”

He just wants to make you sweat a little. You were fine and he knows for certain no one will have heard anything, he just loves getting you flustered.

“I wasn’t, you cheeky sod.” You whine trying your best not to smile and fake annoyance. You pick his tie up and throw it at him as you say, “You’re not all that Healy.”

He laughs, batting the tie away with ease but he tilts his head and narrows his eyes a little, “You say that, but I just gave you two orgasms.”

“And?” You shake your head, letting him know he isn’t god's gift, “So does my vibrator.”

Matty can’t help but think touche, but he opts to tease you instead, “And that's a show I’d definitely like to watch one day.”

Instantly, your face flames and you start glitching. You stumble trying to come up with some backchat but no coherent words form and the moment for you to be slick passes, so you just end up waving for him to leave, “Go and get me a towel, you twat.”

Matty cackles as he leaves the room doing as he's told. Before the both of you know it, you’re in the shower together and even though it should be steamy and hot, it’s probably one of the cutest things either of you have done together.

You’re both giggling and then catching yourselves, mostly you shushing the both of you, as you don’t want to be found out. But despite the both of you not making it interesting in a sinful way, you end up washing the other's hair.

It started with you shampooing his hair, and when it foamed up and his hair went stiff you couldn’t help but giggle when you morphed it into a mohawk. You joke about him looking good until he threatens to cut his curls to bring his mohawk back and you decline his offer with a look that screamed that you would kill him if he did. You tell him not to touch those curls of his.

And when you carry on giggling as you mould his hair into different shapes before you let him rinse it out, Matty can’t help but get a little in his head about everything as he admires you and giggles along.

If society didn’t deem that the two of you were far too early on in your relationship, Matty would get on one knee here and now and properly propose to you because he just genuinely can’t think of anyone better for him. You’re perfect, and the fact you get on like you’ve forever been the best of friends but also have an amazing relationship is the entire package for him.

It might be far too soon, but when you know you know. And Matty has never felt this way so intensely about someone for such a long time, he’d forgotten how it felt to crumble down inside at the sight of someone he felt so much for just existing. The world feels better and brighter when you’re in his presence and you make his heart ache in a way he now knows he’d missed.

After a shower filled with cute kisses, longing touches, and lots of giggles, the both of you get out and head back to his room to dry off. Even when you put his top back on and both get cosy in bed together and you’re just chatting about where he’s going to show you tomorrow, he just holds you close, thanking his lucky stars you came into his life.

Falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice promises smiles that stay on your faces for a bit until your slumber switches them into pouts, your arms wrapped around each other and fingers clutching tight as if there was a possibility of one of you evaporating if you dared let your hold run loose, legs tangled together and heavy breaths hitting each other’s skin.

Your heart grows in size when you’re in Matty’s arms and you know just how fast and hard you’re falling for him when your brain deems it not enough to have him present daily in front of you, by your side, for he materialises in your dreams and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even in your sleep-driven imaginative scenes he manages to make you a mess of grins that reach your eyes, rumble of butterflies filling your stomach, tingling going to every inch of your body.

And waking up, finding him there still, with his curls a mess over the pillow and those lips you love to kiss up in a pout as he continues to breathe slowly in his sleep, makes you almost feel like you’ve somehow managed to hit the jackpot you’ve silently been praying for your whole life.

To find the one.

And you think you’ve found him. You really hope you have.

~*~*~*~

Being shown around the infamous Wilmslow by your boyfriend was one of the highlights of the whole tour for you. You had such a good time, you already can’t wait to go back for a proper stay there.

The both of you slept in a little that morning, coming downstairs to greet everyone else at 11:30 which after your late night it didn’t seem to surprise anyone. Thankfully it seems no one caught on to what happened in Matty’s childhood bedroom because nothing was said and there was no knowing glances or anything.

You all had a cooked breakfast that Denise and Lincoln made which acted as a lovely brunch, satisfying your hunger for most of your day out. After you all finished your meal and chatting, Matty decided he was showing you around for the day which you were more than happy with.

Denise throwing her suggestions in for where to take you really made you giggle, Matty sighing at a few of them as he was already going to take you there but she apparently ruined the surprise. But you loved that she told him to take you to where he used to work because that did give you a giggle.

Matty gave you the bigger tour first, opting to take the car to show you his and the boys' old high school and he told you so many stories about the shit they all got up to back in the day. You would pay so much money to be a fly on the wall back then and experience it like a film playing out to you.

He showed you his old house that he lived in before he was a teenager, and on the drive he pointed out the other boys' childhood homes, telling you Adam’s house felt like a second home to him and that his Mum, Sue, always felt like his second Mum.

Your journey ends with him taking you to Carrs park where the both of you have a nice long walk together, sharing stories and walking hand in hand as you find out more about each other. Matty tells you of the summers that he and the boys used to come down to the park all the time and on hot days they would mess about in the river.

He tells you about when Flo would come over for summers to stay with Adam in Manchester instead of staying in Sheffield, and about how she apparently always preferred her Aunt and Uncle’s home over her own. That he taught her how to skateboard at the skate park that was also in the park which he showed you and you made him promise that in the summer he would bring you back and show you his skills.

You both walk around the park for just over an hour before you head back to the car, and Matty continues with his tour. This time he parks up just off Wilmslow highstreet and you walk down with him.

He shows you The Rex cinema which if you both had more time here he would have taken you to see a film but he promises to bring you back for a date night. To make up for it, he takes you a few doors further down and buys you a few cocktails in Revs, your favourite being the Mean Girl one that comes with a post-it note pegged onto the glass that says ‘So Fetch’.

Matty ends up having a few drinks too and it’s only after you’ve both had two cocktails and 3 flavoured shots each that he realises you both drove here. Thankfully that gets quickly resolved by him phoning his brother and he promises Louis that if he comes to drive you both back, he will buy him a bottle of vodka and pay for his taxi from home to the car later.

Whilst in Revs, you spot a photobooth and after how cute the last ones were, you can’t resist doing another one. These pictures turn out to be extremely coupley, but you blame that on being tipsy and loving your boyfriend's lips on your own. The print was black and white and the camera captured your kisses, giggles, and funny faces and you download the digital version instantly so you can put the cutest one as your lock screen.

You go on your merry way after another few drinks, Matty walking you further up the highstreet to the big Sainsburys so he can get his brother's alcohol and you can’t help but giggle at the mere sight of it. Even more so now because you’re tipsy.

Matty already knows why you’re laughing, but when you ask him, “Is this the Sainsburys?” and he confirms it is the Sainsburys, you get so excited. As if him mentioning the supermarket in a song makes it a landmark you have to see.

You make him giggle though when you run off in front of him in the shop and only when he catches you up and you scorn him does he understand what you were doing. It’s when you tell him, “No, pretend you don't know me and come flirt with me.” that he can’t stop giggling.

The fact that you’ve gone hours without food meant the alcohol has gotten to you and your tipsy state is hilarious to him. The fact you want to be a girl he flirts with in a Sainsburys is all the more wholesome to him though, at least this time he knows he will have an effect on you because it’s so easy to make you putty in his hands.

He does the little roleplay you desired and he loves the way you’re grinning at him, even though the pick up line he used was utter shit, he can tell you’re all flustered. And you only get worse when he breaks the charade and whispers other explicit things in your ear of what he would like to do to and with you and you have to push him away from you, the proximity too much to bear when he gets you too embarrassed and worked up.

You can just about look at him again when you leave the supermarket and he grabs you hand as he continues to show you the last few things on his tour of his home. He walks you back down the highstreet, this time on the other side of the road to let you have a nosy at the shops, before walking straight over the road.

He takes you to his Caffe Nero where he used to work and the both of you get a coffee, in hopes to make the both of you less tipsy, before he walks you down to the Chinese he used to work at as a delivery driver. After a quick conversation, you and Matty decide you want something from there for your dinner, so he quickly phones his family to see if they want anything too.

Turns out they do, and after placing a big order with them, Louis comes and meets you to drive the both of you back to their home and you all have a big family meal. The vodka that was bought is cracked open almost immediately and the three of you end up having drinks together while Denise and Lincoln make themselves a mocktail pitcher to share as you all chat about everything and nothing.

Never have you felt so at ease in the presence of your partner's family, especially the first real time you’ve spent with any of them. Maybe it’s because they're northern, or maybe it is just because they are fantastic people but you’ve never felt so welcome in your life and you’re so thankful for them.

You even get told funny stories about when Matty was little, and your favourite anecdote about him is that when he was really little he had a lisp. You start teasing him and saying odd words mocking a lisp and your boyfriend pretends to be unamused, but it gets even funnier when you and Louis start doing it together. Denise and Lincoln cackled as Matty was getting more and more annoyed, but thankfully a kiss to the cheek appeased him when you got up to get you both another drink.

The family's kindness really makes you not want to leave, and you really will reluctantly do so tomorrow morning. Even more so when Denise hugs you so tightly before she heads up to bed and she thanks you for coming to stay and for such a lovely evening, and she makes you almost tear up when she tells you how much of a good fit she thinks you are for her son and how welcome you are to their family.

She calls you the daughter she never had and it makes you get a little lump in your throat and you just squeeze her tighter before thanking her again for being so hospitable to you. You’ve had such a good time, you drag the night out, trying to stop yourself from getting tired even when you and Matty head back upstairs to bed.

Matty knows what you’re doing and he finds it adorable but he reminds you that you’re too much of a Grandma to try and stay up late for two nights on the trot. As soon as he gets you changed into his top and your head hits his pillows, your eyes close and Matty laughs at the effort it seems to be taking you to reopen them.

So you don’t have to, Matty just sheds off his clothes down to his underwear and he gets in bed beside you after flicking the lamp off, but he practically lays on top of you wanting you to cuddle him. Even when you're falling asleep you don’t fail to root your fingers into his curls and you hum in satisfaction as you play with his hair for a few minutes, but as soon as you stop scratching his scalp, he knows you’re asleep.

But he doesn’t follow you, instead he stays up for a little while longer and he moves back just a little so his eyes can go over every inch of your face. He wills himself to learn every detail of your face by heart, almost counting the freckles scattered on your skin as if that was a piece of information he had to live by, as if he had to look for constellations in the sky that resembled them as closely as possible just so he could feel you near when he eventually goes away.

Matty doesn’t realise he’s brought his hand up to your face until you squirm under the touch of his fingers grazing your cheekbones softly. He stills at your sudden movement but his smile grows on his face when you end up humming, like you're encouraging him to continue as you fall deeper into your slumber.

Your growing warmth beneath him and the sound of your hums lull him to sleep, blissfully pressing his head on the pillow after he’s dropped a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and trying his hardest to continue looking at your gorgeous sleepy face for as long as his tired eyes allow him.

Even when his eyes manage to close and it’s too hard to peel them open again, he can see you burned into his eyelids and on the forefront of his mind is every moment he’s gotten to share with you today and these past few days of tour.

Selfishly, he wishes for them to never end. If there’s one thing he would do anything to have is you beside him all the time.

Please, he says in his head and he hopes whoever can grant him that wish is listening.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next tour stop is Nottingham and driving down there after being in the lads’ hometown is enlightening. It seems like being in their hometown, even if it’s just for a day, fills them up with a surge of energy that had been wearing down throughout the past few months they’ve spent on the road.

So of course, the time it takes you to get there is spent between them all going about the lounge taking the piss at each other and smoking, fighting over the most mundane opinions and even over a chocolate bar they found hidden away in the shelves.

The argument of who deserves to have the chocolate has been going on for over 10 minutes, everyone proposing their reasoning and it is growing more and more ridiculous by the minute. They keep making fun of each other's excuses and loudly counter proposing something that backs themselves up.

“It’s just chocolate, break it into pieces for everyone to have some.” Adam sighs in response to the bickering that keeps growing in volume which mixed with the few hours of sleep he’s had, is threatening to cause him a headache.

“No, that’s not fun.” Ross scowls at him like he’s a buzzkill for being the voice of reason in this debate. Instead, a cruel and fun way to get people to fight over the last chocolate comes to his mind and he smirks as his gaze sweeps everyone in the room. “Who has the saddest story?”

George’s huff in annoyance is loud and it makes you think that this is definitely not the first time a play like this has come about to settle an argument. Still, you frown and ask, “What?” confused at the random prompt.

But your boyfriend answers before Ross can, “It's a game we play, we give a different condition for a story each time to see who wins what we’re short of. This time the saddest story wins the chocolate.”

Your hesitant nod seems to be the only confirmation Ross needed, as if you were the one calling the shots this time to he places the chocolate back inside the cupboard and sits back in the booth to close call out who’s staring with their anecdote.

The first to go is George who talks about how his childhood dog died and though you find it tragic, the guys just roll their eyes and ask for the next one because they’d heard it way too many times before.

The rest of the band follows along, Adam refusing to participate because he finds it pointless and Matty skipping just because he’s fine being a spectator. Polly’s anecdote makes you pout as you listen to her and you end up giving her a little hand squeeze when she’s done. And then it’s your turn.

“Y/N?” Ross raises his eyebrows at you, a challenging look as if he’s entirely sure you don’t stand a chance to win this.

But you surprise him when you straighten in your seat, roll your shoulders and sigh heavily to prepare yourself mentally, knowing you’re so taking the chocolate for yourself.

“I’m playing to win this, okay?” Is your hint of a warning of what’s to come but no one really takes it that seriously.

“Oh go on then, doubt you can beat Polly’s.” Matty taunts this time, a giggle almost weaving through his words.

You shrug, not really giving into the teasing of his words and you start your story, “Okay so this was about five years ago, I was at a party of sorts with my ex. For context I was with him for over three years, we were really happy and I loved this person right.” You almost laugh at the memory, just because of how pathetic it had made you feel for so long until you realised you were far better off.

Clearing your throat, you continue, “Then we go to this party but it's just like at his mates house and we're all there chatting outside around the fire pit and then the question gets asked, ‘where do you see yourself in twenty years’ so each of us go round answering. Everyone mentions kids, marriage, dream jobs, blah blah blah…”

You wave your hand to diminish the importance of what was said and they watch as the corners of your lips twitch in amusement, “So I go and I say everything I hope for, that I want to be happy, have my own house which I share with the person I love, as I'm holding hands with my ex.” Your eyes catch everyone looking attentively at you, waiting for you to continue, “Whatever, I carry on talking about having my own family and everyone is smiling and loving my answer but then my ex has his go.”

You take a deep breath before you go on with the worst part of your anecdote, “My ex said, ‘In twenty years I think I'm still going to be trying to find the girl of my dreams’.”

At that, you hear everyone gasping and when you let your eyes go up to see the group of people around you, you catch a few with their hands covering their mouths and a few just freely letting you see they’re jaw dropped.

What you don’t get to see is the way your boyfriend’s face has fallen completely, his heart sinking to the deepest pit of his stomach and he genuinely feels sick knowing someone had the audacity to say that. It feels like something clicks as to why you were so insecure when it came to you thinking he was ‘settling’ for you after hearing that.

But you’re not quite done yet, chuckling a bit at their reactions, you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and add, “And he didn't just leave it there. He went on to elaborate on what he was looking for. And just like all of you, all of his friends went deadly silent and were just looking at the two of us. I went entirely numb for a minute, but in that time I somehow managed to say, ‘hope you find her’ in the most monotone voice and got up and left.”

A few beats of silence pass, everyone too astounded to even find out what was correct to say in such a situation.

Until Ross breaks it with a simple, “That’s fucking brutal.” which makes you snort out in laughter.

“I know. Can I have that chocolate now?” You extend your hand out for him to give you the prize, you know no one will dare to disagree that your story was the saddest.

And he nods, “Absolutely, fucking hell.”

You watch as the bassist gets the chocolate from the cupboard and gives it to you, and after thanking him softly, you notice the way everyone is still silent, so you turn to them and call them out for it, “Okay, everyone lighten up, it’s been a while since then.”

Thankfully the mood lightens after you win their game, things move on when people get various phone calls and you start concentrating on your phones and what’s on the TV again. Your past doesn’t plague your mind in the slightest as you’ve already buried that away with a nice little bow of trauma securing it away, and you have no intention of letting it get you upset any longer than it did a few years back. It was most definitely his loss anyway and you’re doing miles better for yourself these days.

You move on quite quickly, forgetting about it minutes after everyone went back to normal and you were more sidetracked with baby Hann and the chats you were having with Carly. But Matty couldn’t get it out of his head.

He found that his heart still felt like it had been beaten to a pulp for you. It hurt him a lot hearing how someone who you let yourself be vulnerable with and who you opened your heart to, said something so awful and completely disregarded your relationship like it was nothing.

God knows if someone said that to him it would never not plague his thoughts or have a permanent sinking feeling in his chest. He can’t help but think just how strong you are to have got through something like that and to be as happy and bubbly as you are now.

Since meeting you and getting to know you properly, Matty has always found himself incredibly lucky to easily make you smile or laugh that he can’t imagine ever saying anything so horrible to you. It makes him want to cherish you even more, to protect you from anyone who could be so cruel and hold you closer and tighter than ever.

Which is what he ended up doing. He didn’t bring it up until you were alone that night in the back lounge of the bus just after the last few others had disappeared off to bed.

You’d not long since had a call with Amelia and your manager that started off as business related and as soon as your manager bid you goodbye, you had a good catch up with your best friend. You’ve probably not gone this long without seeing her for a while and you were both getting withdrawal symptoms so you definitely enjoyed your chat with her.

You were equally excited to get back to the fun conversations that always filled the bus, but you weren’t surprised that it was only George and Matty that were coherently talking when you went back to socialise. Turns out you’d been chatting to your best friend for the best part of 3 hours and it was nearing 11pm and with it being an off day everyone was lazy and heading to bed early which you don’t blame them for.

This tour and your boyfriend have really fucked with your sleeping pattern, a month ago you would be tired at this time but now you rarely get tired until 2am. But it meant more time being in Matty’s presence and cuddling up to him awake in his bunk where you talk about anything that comes to mind until you eventually drift off so you don’t mind in the slightest.

Even now after George has just headed off to bed, you just find yourself relaxing in your boyfriends hold that little bit more as you pay attention to the BBC Three show that’s playing silently on the TV. Or that is until your boyfriend gets your attention again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Matty whispers in your ear, a kiss being pressed on your cheek right after and his fingers clutching your waist tightly like you could be taken away from him if he wasn’t cautious.

You let your head rest on his shoulder so you can look up at him and in slight confusion, you ask him, “What?”

“With your ex. I’m sorry he did that. It was awful to hear and that’s not a par on what it must’ve felt like.” His fingers rub circles on your waist, under your shirt so his touch is warm and soothing on your skin.

Turning in his hold, your arms go around his shoulder and your fingers play with the short curls at the nape of his neck as you shake your head, “Oh no, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay at all.” His eyes are wide, there’s no way he’ll ever come to terms with the fact that you had to go through something like that.

You sigh a bit heavily, because you know he’s right but it’s been so long since then and it has led you to where you are now so you have no complaints. Your nails scratch softly at his scalp, “I know, but I’m glad with the way everything has worked out.”

Softly, like he’s scared it will set something off that you won’t like, Matty asks, “Was he the guy who you last went out with?”

You nod, “He was the last guy, yeah. I met a girl a year after and we were together about eight months but she kept getting jealous of the dates I was going on and the flirting yet she also wanted me to take her to the dates with me so she could meet the celebs and it all just ended in a big argument so I just decided I was done.” His face is screwed up in a frown that lets you know how he finds that, and you give him a side smile as if agreeing on how bad that was.

“Everyone after her has been one night things which were hit and miss but I’d convinced myself I was better off alone anyway.” It’s easy for you to be honest about this all with him, so you continue, “No one was gonna get it and I’d sort of come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t going to find anything again.” and it’s even easier to let him know how it all changed, “Until you.”

You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist as he breathlessly asks, “Me?”

And a giggle escapes you when you reassure that’s exactly what you meant, “Yeah, you.”

“What changed?” One of his hands comes up to lift your chin up slightly, fingertips slowly dragging down your jaw and the softness of his touch makes you lean into it.

“Well for a start I was never going to turn down another date with you.” Your lips purse as you try not to smile embarrassedly at your admission, “But then you came round to mine and you were the sweetest. You hugged me when I got upset at your album, you came round and surprised me and bought me a Christmas present.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you remember, your eyes stay on his and you find yourself wanting to forever be under his gaze because it just has goosebumps erupting on your skin, heat rising up to your cheeks and a tingling hitting every corner of your being, “You make me nervous, and I’ve not felt nervous talking to someone in the longest time, I missed that.”

There’s a need to clear up your words when you realise it could come across wrongly, “But I wasn’t nervous because you’re the lead singer of my favourite band. I was nervous because of you.” His delicate smile reaches his eyes, those crinkles you’ve grown to love showing just how happy your words are making him and he continues his delicate tracing of your features as you add, “The things you do when you talk to me, when you smile at me or smirk at me. You make me the best kind of nervous.”

His thumb teasingly runs across your bottom lip, your breath hitches in your throat and you hold it there until his finger runs down to press on your chin softly, “I still make you nervous?”

“All the time.” It comes out in a whisper but it’s wholehearted because it’s the actual truth, “I love it when you’re not actively trying to make me flustered.” That’s a bit of a white lie, because you do love it when he teases you even though he makes it so hard for you not to be embarrassed by it in public.

Matty pouts slightly, “But seeing you flustered is how I know it’s all working.”

He makes himself sound so innocent like that, you roll your eyes in fake annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. You just love watching me squirm, I know.”

And then that smirk you love breaks on his face and it all comes together when he chats back, “Love watching you do more than squirm.”

It makes you so incredibly giddy, he can definitely feel the heat growing on your face at his words, “Yeah I sure know you do, you little shit.” You narrow your eyes, an attempt to appear menacing.

He snickers at your effort, offering you an eye roll and a sassy, “Oh but you love it.” as a response.

“I do.” You catch your bottom lip between your teeth as you agree. There’s no need to keep anything to yourself anymore, you think, and how liberating is it that you can just cup his face and pull him in for a sweet kiss to show him just how much you adore him.

Your tongue teases his bottom lip and he lets your tongues meet without a second of doubt, he hums when he tastes you and you hum back to let him know how much you enjoy this. It is so easy letting time pass when your lips are moving with each other, your fingers clutching each other tightly and oxygen be damned for your one priority is showing what you feel through your kiss.

You pull back panting when you can no longer kiss without feeling like you’re gonna pass out from lack of oxygen in your lungs and he takes the opportunity to bring back what started it all, “I’m sorry he made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“Thank you for making me feel like I am.” Your head tilts as you say, doe eyes almost sparkling at him like a love sick puppy for him.

You swear it was impossible to feel stronger for him until he nudges your nose with his and your lips brush together as he says, “You’re more than enough, baby. I’m the luckiest to have you.”

All you can do is press your lips against his but before you can deepen the kiss, you’re pulling back enough to look at him deep in the eyes and let him know once again, “Obsessed with you.”

Matty experiences something new every minute he spends with you, he swears, because it’s so incredible the way his heart easily swells in his chest with everything you do and say. It’s so easy for him to reciprocate, almost painful to keep it in that he’s, “Obsessed with you too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Nottingham show was nothing short of incredible. As per usual the boys gave their absolute best and delivered a gig that you know for a fact people wouldn’t forget (you know the feeling far too well of wanting to go back in time to experience their shows over and over again throughout the years) and Matty’s interactions with the audience made you laugh as per usual. Especially when he gave them four songs to choose from and even after Paris lost to Menswear, he decided to still play Paris after it.

Your note being, I certainly like you better when you take off your clothes ;) x that night assured that he went absolutely unhinged for you on stage during Too Shy. You found yourself sweating at his intent hip movements as his eyes swam through the crowd in search of you, winking your way when he found you and you had to hide behind your hands all flustered while the girls around you squealed, entirely unaware of your presence and thinking it was meant for them.

Leeds comes next and you have the best time too, especially when he opens your note and cackles loudly when he reads, Drive Like I Do, when? instead of a cute note like he had been expecting.

He surprises you when Robbers comes on and he sings the climax of the song in the style of the Drive Like I Do version of the song. You scream so loud at that, joining the crowd's cheers and when the next song starts, you’re left feeling all gooey inside at the fact that the littlest things you can mention will end up in him trying to appease your wishes.

Newcastle is entirely shocking to you. You were excited to be there, especially since Matty mentioned Tim would be attending and you’d finally be able to meet him, but you’re absolutely not ready for the surprise you got once you got to the venue.

It had been slightly hectic, since people were swarming the place so you had to sneak into the venue almost being shielded by George and Ross’ big frames as you hid in a massive hoodie and some glasses to try and keep your identity hidden.

You find yourself shaking in anticipation as you’re walking between George and Ross on your way to the greenroom, trying to have a pep talk in your mind so that you calm yourself down about the prospect of meeting your boyfriend’s Dad.

Of course the lads caught onto your shaking hands that you were wiping on top of your hoodie, Ross teased you for being nervous but George assured you it’d be alright. So you settle a bit, slowly coming to terms with it and preparing yourself to offer Tim a smile as soon as you step through the door of the greenroom.

But when you get there and see that Lewis fucking Capaldi is there, you can’t help but let out a squeal of excitement. The Scottish legend who in a few months you know you already have a date booked in with, makes you so excited. You run to hug him hello and he’s equally excited to see you there.

Tim makes you cackle when he says, “I’ll be offended if I don’t get hugged just as enthusiastically.” behind you and you let go of Lewis to greet the comedic legend. You’re glad your reaction to Lewis’ presence served as an ice breaker because then the conversation with Matty’s Dad flows easily and you find yourself laughing at the fact that you were so nervous about meeting him when he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Spending the day in Lewis’ company is as funny as you could’ve imagined and the filming of him taking the piss out of what Matty does on stage makes you cackle laughing. Thankfully with the other singer distracting your boyfriend, you could easily sneak your note into his pocket today, and you felt quite proud of that one.

That night you stay back behind the stage to watch the show (the crew gave you some in-ears so you could still hear everything the way that you would if you were in the main bit of the arena). Tonight your note was Obsessed with you and everything but Newcastle aren’t winning the cup baby xoxoxo and when the camera shows Matty snorting at it and shaking his head, pocketting it again before grabbing his acoustic guitar, it made you giggle and when Lewis asked you about it and you told him, he started laughing too.

This had all come about because like George had been roped into supporting Newcastle United by his best friend, you had been dragged in to support Manchester United because that’s Amelia’s football team. Yesterday was the first leg of Newcastle's semi-final in the Carabao Cup which you all watched and you were happy for Matty that they won 1-0, but tonight was Manchester United’s first semi-final match and you had a good feeling your team was going to win. Regardless though, you did think that you would end up playing your boyfriend’s team in the final, and you can’t let him get too comfortable so you kept teasing him yesterday saying regardless of if they win, Manchester United will beat Newcastle.

The show moved on quickly, and it wasn’t a surprise that you started tearing up when Tim goes on stage to sing All I Need To Hear and you’re glad you’re right next to Lewis because he makes you laugh when he makes a joke about how the band would be more successful if Tim replaced Matty.

When it’s time for Lewis to go on stage, you’re left alone until your boyfriend surprises you with his presence after he quickly got changed and the rest of the band tagged along so you all could watch Lewis together.

Of course you lot piss yourselves laughing when people go absolutely mad when the text Special guest: Harry Styles comes on the screen and then it only grows louder once the door opens, but to their disappointment it’s not the Watermelon singing man.

Lewis makes it funnier when he waves at everyone, laughter can be heard from the crowd and it grows louder when he walks up to the mic and says, “My name is Harry Styles and it’s good to be here. I know what you’re thinking; ‘He looks different. He sounds different’.” And with one last adjusting of his guitar strap, he adds, “But make no mistake I am Harry Styles.”

But your amusement dies in your throat in a split second when he starts strumming on his guitar and he starts a song you have been dying to hear for far too long.

If anyone told you a few months ago that you’d be hearing Antichrist be performed live at a The 1975 concert for the first time by Lewis Capaldi, you would’ve thought it to be the most far-fetched joke anyone could come up with. But here you were, already crying at Lewis singing the first line to a song you’ve waited so long to hear in concert.

Matty doesn’t realise how bad your state is until Lewis sings, “Is it the same for you?” and you shake with the sob that rips through you. The visuals on the big screens were making him laugh and he assumed your soft shaking was just a product of your laughter, the sound being drowned by the loudness of the crowd singing along. He’s entirely taken aback by your reaction and in instinct he wraps his arms around you from behind you.

He hears you tearfully but softly singing the next verse but you fully let your broken voice rumble with the crowd for the third verse.

The buildup to the bridge starts and they lads take a few seconds of silence to clock onto your state and giggle. They didn’t expect you to have such a reaction to Lewis singing the song, and Ross is a cheeky bitch so he points it out.

“This is exactly why we’re never doing this song.” If you’re crying this hard then the bassist wouldn’t want to imagine how badly the people in the crowd were looking.

You don’t even allow yourself to form a proper answer and instead you let the song dramatically reply to him. You point your finger at him and George who is right beside him and belt out the bridge almost entirely enraged at what he’s just had the cheek to say.

But that doesn’t appear menacing to them, George and Ross laugh and you can feel Matty’s chest shaking with laughter behind you. Even Adam was giggling away at your emotion and it was only making you sob harder as you sang. You don’t even have the mind to think about how embarrassing this might be when you look back because you’re completely overcome by emotion.

They’re not done taking the piss out of you when the song is over, and you’re left shaking your head at their jokes whilst you wipe the tears off your face, Matty’s lips pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder but you feel his breath hit your skin whenever he laughs at any of the guys’ quips.

Lewis announcing, “I was going to sing one of my songs next, but I thought it would just be better to play a Taylor Swift song.” has you gasping way too loud, interrupting another joke Ross was about to make at your expense but your reaction to the Scots’ introduction of the second song is enough to earn you a round of cackles.

George is louder this time and his giggles are so contagious you find yourself laughing with them, that is until Lewis starts singing the Taylor song you’ve loved so much since you were a teenager and the waterworks start again.

It is all such a mix of emotions, you can’t help the tears streaming down your face. It’s the song being played right after Antichrist, it’s the feeling of Matty’s arms wrapped tightly around you and how he sings it softly to you in your ear. You’re purposely keeping your volume to a decent point so you can hear your boyfriend singing it to you.

If he wasn’t holding you, you would’ve melted and died on the spot. Your legs feel wobbly from the crazy storm of butterflies fluttering inside your stomach and there’s a burning heat that runs through your veins that melts your insides.

“You alright baby?” Matty asks you softly when the song is over, brows furrowed as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

You nod softly, just letting your tears run down your cheeks until they stop but he’s on the task in a matter of seconds. He stands before you, hands cupping your jaw and thumbs swiping at the tears staining your skin.

Through his in-ears he hears they gotta go back on stage in a minute but before he rushes back with the lads, Matty showers your face with pecks. When he reaches your lips though, he can’t help himself and locks your lips in a sweet kiss, one that lasts longer than needed because George is yelling at him they need to go and so is the crew member talking in his in-ears again.

You pull back and push him softly so he can go, and just because you’re feeling better and in a jokey mood now, you give his arse a slap before he’s gone from your side. He looks back at you with a smirk, right as he gets to the door and winks at you. You’re left smiling like an idiot, waiting for the show to continue.

Lewis teases you throughout the rest of the show, at first for crying at what he did but then when Matty did something like wink into the camera or thrust at the audience. The Scot was a big tease and whilst you pretended to hate him for it, you had such a fun evening singing along to the boys with him.

Unfortunately, with there being a show the following day in Liverpool and Lewis heading back out on tour, you couldn’t go out and have a few drinks together that night. But you all bid him goodbye, you give him a hug and tell him that you and Amelia will be seeing him soon.

It felt bittersweet saying goodbye to Tim, but he told you that you had to come back up to Newcastle with Matty as soon as you were free to and he would happily show you around the city properly. Before you even know it, you’re back on the road.

You passed out pretty much as soon as you got on the bus and Matty found you in the bunk fast asleep about 5 minutes after you said you were heading to bed. Just before he climbed in to join you, he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips hoping not to wake you and he was grateful he didn’t disturb you when he cuddled himself into you and slowly fell asleep himself.

Waking up outside the arena in Liverpool was an interesting ordeal. There wasn’t a gated section where the buses could go here so when you and Matty woke up and were hoping to head out for a walk, it was a little difficult because there were fans outside.

So a little plan was devised to combat this, and it was orchestrated and quite literally carried out by George. The drummer suggested that you wrap up in a hoodie and have the hood up and that he would carry you out and into the venue, and people would automatically assume you were Charli and that you were asleep.

The queen of pop had gone back home to London after the Manchester show, along with Carly too but no one but those of you on the tour knew that. So George carrying a girl into the arena seemed like a perfect way to get you in unseen and keep your relationship underwraps.

There was an alternative, that Ross carry you inside in the same way, but as soon as you made a joke of that's a good way of socialising with him more, Matty chipped in quickly and cut that idea off. So it was Matty’s jealousy that decided that you would be carried the 10 metres into the venue by George.

And thankfully it went fine and there were a few fans who made a fuss but George just smiled and kept walking with you in his arms. Your legs were around his waist and your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you hid yourself away into his neck until the metal doors closed.

Once they did, you looked up at George and grinned, he laughed at your grin and smiled back. You couldn’t not tell him as you were in his arms though, “You smell really good.”

“Thanks babe.” The drummer winks, resulting in you immediately becoming flustered.

Matty heard and saw all this, so with a brief look of jealousy and distaste, he nudged his best friend, indicating to put you down. However, the drummer instead smirked, “Nah, she’s mine now mate.”

If that didn’t have you internally choking, the drummer moving his hands to your arse for the briefest few seconds to tease his best mate did. You’re winning at life well and truly, you’re certain you’ll die a happy woman.

After that, George let you return to your feet and you and Matty went about your day. It was quite early and both of you didn’t sleep well really despite falling asleep quickly. The bunk was definitely beginning to get uncomfortable now, so you’re certainly excited to be getting closer to being back in a proper bed.

Matty however, thought ahead and booked the two of you a day room at a nearby hotel which you both walked to after you had a sneaky walk around the docks, thankfully not being recognised by anyone. The room was stunning, and not even because it was fancy, it was just because after not sleeping in a proper bedroom since you were in Manchester it felt like a luxury.

A luxury which both you and Matty tarnished completely because you both did more than sleep in the bed and made most of the time you had alone with no need to worry about being quiet. You both napped after you wore each other out but then you both showered together which ended with both of you on your knees one after another.

After checking out and getting a taxi back to the venue, everything went smoothly. There was even a surprise waiting for you, which may be another best moment of the tour, because thanks to the fan who threw a sausage roll on stage back in Manchester, Greggs have sent the band a PR package.

It’s a glorious sight. 13 hot sausage rolls and a dozen different pasties for you all to feast on before the show. It was amazing and you’ve never seen food disappear so quickly in your life.

After that, you and Matty both greeted Denise and Lincoln who made the trip up to come and watch the show again. You were sticking to being in the pit again tonight and you went out just after Denise said goodbye to the boys.

When you got to the pit, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw the crowd yelling and waving at Denise who is up at the top of the first tier of seats. She waves to her fans like the true queen she is and before you know it the show starts.

The show is as amazing as it always is and the crowd is as loud as ever. You’re screaming along with all of them, every line to every song at the top of your lungs but your yells of excitement are interrupted the moment the consumption interlude comes and, while everyone is screaming even louder at the sight, you’re speechless in embarrassment.

You’ve never felt such regret for sleeping with your boyfriend before, but when Matty did the consumption interlude that night and he took his shirt off, revealing to the 11 thousand people (Denise and Lincoln included, plus the band and the crew) that you’d scratched his back to shreds earlier. Your jaw dropped when you saw the red marks lining his shoulder blades.

You quite literally consider running away and never showing your face on this tour or to anyone on it afterwards but thankfully the show carries on and after a few songs you manage to forget about it. It’s a shame everyone else doesn’t forget though, because when you head backstage after the set has ended, you get endlessly teased for it.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the day after, the fans figured out that it wasn’t George carrying Charli into the venue in Liverpool. The bright side was that they didn’t know it was you but they found out it wasn't the queen of pop in the drummer’s arms because Charli attended an event at the same time as the gig back in London so the conspiracies went on and on. Twitter seemed to connect the girl in George’s arms as the one who had marked up Matty’s back and they seemed to just take the piss out of Matty for it because he wasn’t strong enough to carry you inside himself.

It made you and George laugh, but your boyfriend not so much. The next day he took every excuse he could to pick you up off the ground whether it was just to prove the point, or just to twirl you around to make you giggle. At one point he gave you a piggyback ride and he ran around the room filled with all the boys in it, even making Jordan take pictures of the two of you.

Jordan sent you both the pictures that night, and one of the pictures that came out where Matty is running but you and him towards Jordan is so funny. In the first, you and your boyfriend are giggling as he's zooming past the camera but you are both grinning line lunatics as you clutch him.

The second one though is your favourite because it was caught just as you lent around over Matty’s shoulder and his head was twisted towards you, and you were both laughing at each other as he held you up. You were fairly certain you kissed him afterwards too just before Matty raced back around the room.

Before any of you knew it, you were on the plane over to Ireland. The night you got there, you stayed in a hotel and with your free day before the next gig and Matty showed you around the sights. You had such a fun day being a tourist and your boyfriend showed you his favourite spots he always tried to come to when he was in Dublin. And to end the night off, you and the rest of the boys all ended up going to a pub where traditional Irish music was being played inside and it was so much fun.

The Dublin show was the second to last date of the tour and everyone had been incredibly excited about it. Of course, it had been a bit sad seeing this leg of the tour coming to an end but it had all gone so well that you felt more like celebrating the conclusion of such an amazing tour than sulking over it being over.

But it wasn’t the nostalgia of seeing the tour ending before your eyes that made the mood come down when you were all gathered in the greenroom at the venue, instead it was Jamie letting Matty know what a certain tabloid was planning on putting out about him on the next day’s paper.

You instantly caught the change in his behaviour and did your best to cheer him up a bit, which thankfully wasn’t that hard because he seemed to have gotten over it when it was time for you to go out into the crowd and him to get on stage.

That night, you kept your note sweet but funny, using his lyrics to try and steal at least a giggle out of him. When he read that it said, You got a pretty kinda dirty face x he chuckled to himself and pocketed it with a smile that reached his eyes. You were relieved seeing him smiling harder now after the note and you silently hoped it would stay that way until the gig ended.

But you celebrated too soon, because he went on to let the large crowd know about the situation right before singing Love It If We Made It and your heart got heavy seeing the clear distaste and upset on his face.

Matty didn’t let it hold him down though, because he went on to give a passionate rendition of the song and you got goosebumps as you watched him enraged and growling out the lyrics.

Unfortunately, after the show was done, the high came down quickly when you all walked back into the greenroom to the news of the article having been published online already and reading it was upsetting.

You watched as your boyfriend read it multiple times, getting more and more angry every time but he kept it to himself, only letting scoffs and shakes of his head show to everyone. The rest of the band read it and called bullshit on it, rolling their eyes at the way something had been twisted and taken way out of proportion.

It was when you got in the bunk together later that night, in the tour bus on your way to Belfast, that Matty properly let his emotions show.

He let angry tears fall from his eyes silently with you cradling his head on your chest, your right hand rubbing his back soothingly as your other hand was on his head and softly scratching his scalp.

It broke your heart hearing him getting this worked up and upset, your head a tangle of confused thoughts as to how people could be so quick to jump to the worst conclusions when taking a singular second of a moment out of context to fit their villainizing narrative.

“I’m sorry.” Matty apologised as he sniffled, picking up his head from your chest slightly so that he could wipe the tears off his cheeks.

But you shook your head, letting your hands come up to cup his face so you could take on the task of wiping his tears, “Don’t apologise, baby. It’s what I’m here for.”

You pulled him back down to rest over you and he didn’t have it in himself to deny the comfort that you were bringing him so he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck and, right after he left a soft kiss on your skin, he quietly asked, “Am I a bad person?”

“No, you’re not.” You replied in a heartbeat, not even a hint of doubt crossing your mind, “People just love making others seem worse than them so that they can feel superior. It’s so fucked.” Your fingers tangled in his curls and pulled on them slightly, just so he could look at you as you continued, “Everyone knows the person you are, and you would never do that. You don’t stand for that. They’re always looking for something they can turn into a scandal and it’s so unfair that they do it at your expense.”

His teary eyes watch you intently for a few seconds, silence engulfing you entirely but your eye contact doesn’t break. That’s how you catch the tear that falls from the corner of his eye with your thumb quickly and you have to bite your bottom lip not to cry yourself.

Matty doesn’t say anything and you can’t blame him, it’s upsetting enough to see him go through this so you cannot imagine what it must feel like being called such a name for an action that got completely misinterpreted.

He kissed the palm of your hand softly, wet lips pressed on your soft skin adoringly with his eyes closed as if he’s indulging in it all.

“Let’s just go to sleep okay?” You suggest delicately, whisper breaking the silence and the heaviness of the moment, and you’re so glad that he nods and melts right into you.

After a long minute, you hear Matty sigh and you stay awake until you’re certain he’s asleep. Only when you register his steady breathing and the absence of his sniffling, do you will yourself to close your eyes and get some rest.

~*~*~*~ 30th January ~*~*~*~

Today, you woke up still feeling your chest heavy after everything that had happened last night. But it’s Amelia’s birthday and she's flying over to join you on the last day of tour, so you were excited to go pick her up from the airport, but that unfortunately meant having to leave an upset Matty for a bit just as the crew is starting to bring everything inside the venue.

Earlier that morning, whilst you had gone to the small bathroom in the bus, Matty had read the article once again and when he caved and went on Twitter to see what was being told, he felt his blood starting to boil in anger.

You can see it on his face even now that you’re back. You had managed to make it back to the venue, this time with Amelia beside you, just in time for soundcheck and despite the fact that Matty sounds amazing, it’s written all over his face just how much this is all bothering him still.

On the way back to the venue, you told Amelia what happened and the boy's reaction to it, so she was up to date. But despite the slight atmosphere, you weren’t going to let it affect your best friend's birthday.

The boys greet her warmly when she arrives and they all ask how she’s been. She gives you all the gossip that you’ve missed out on from the chicken shop offices along with other industry stuff that she’s heard. The boys find it quite amusing watching you both back together, it’s easy for them all to see you’ve both missed each other, it’s certainly like what any of them would be like with any long time apart.

Before long, it’s time to soundcheck and whilst you see Matty’s mood dip a little at that, you don’t comment on it despite it being written all over his face. The last thing you think would be helpful is drawing attention to it in front of everyone. So you just peck his lips quickly before you part ways and you head down to the pit with Amelia, fully intending to dance to a few songs with your best friend. And dance you do, to Too Shy, It’s Not Living, She’s American, and a couple more. However, the short practice takes a turn.

It surprises you when the singer turns to George and tells him they’re soundchecking Pressure right after they’ve finished soundchecking Oh Caroline. You feel your chest contract as you hear him angrily spout the lyrics, constantly taking sips of the water bottle that he keeps throwing to the ground beside his feet and rubbing his face like being in his own skin is annoying him.

The feeling in your chest gets even worse when after a few songs, he mumbles something into the mic and the lads start playing Me.

The second the song starts and you recognise it, you feel your heart sinking and you can’t even try and force a smile at Matty when he catches a glimpse at you. His eyes almost evade you as if it hurts him to have you seen him this way, but he keeps getting annoyed at every little thing from then on.

First, he keeps complaining about the volume of his mic compared to the rest of the instruments and after the third time he signals the sound guys to change it, he huffs and rolls his eyes as he gives up on everything. The next thing that happens is that he messes up the lyrics and makes them all start again, and that happens twice which has Ross grumbling under his breath at Matty.

Unsurprisingly, you and your best friend watch as the tension sweeps over the stage. The bassist muttering things clearly annoys Matty a bit more than it normally would and it seems like his thoughts start tangling together after that because he misses a line and starts later than he should’ve and the second he realises his mistake, he explodes in anger.

“No- Stop. Stop!” His arms are wailing around, brows in a permanent frown and his cheeks a hint of pink from how worked up he’s getting, “It’s all wrong!”

Adam lets his head hang at the outburst and George just watches Matty like he’s trying to find the best words to approach him with but Ross has had enough with his attitude so he just airs out his thoughts without much of a filter, “If you’re gonna change the setlist last minute then at least fucking try to properly soundcheck it mate. We’re all doing our parts alright.”

Matty knew they were all playing it right and it was just him who was unable to get it together and at least practice it well, “I fucking know Ross, okay?!” He’s almost shaking from anger, feeling like Ross isn’t even trying to understand where he’s coming from, “Fucking hell. Go and get called a fucking Nazi and see how it feels.”

“You think that hasn’t upset us all?!” Ross hisses in annoyance, “We fucking get it Matty but you’re being a right dick right now.”

“You know that it isn’t true so why are you letting it get to you this much? You’ve never let this shite get to your head before, why now?” Ross has a point with what he’s saying but the reasoning goes over Matty’s head when the bassist adds, “We’ve been through shit like this before, just stop caring like you always do.”

Matty takes is the wrong way and he’s fuming as he says, “And what’s that fucking meant to mean?” He doesn’t even let Ross speak though, because he’s quick to interrupt whatever he’s about to say with a scoff, “You’re such a fucking twat, Macdonald. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore.”

Not even caring to put the microphone back on its stand, Matty throws it to the side and starts walking off stage, long strides that have Ross shaking his head, “Yes, fucking leave. ‘Cos that’s the best solution.”

Matty turns around to spout a venomous “Fuck you Ross.” and the last thing you hear him say before he disappears back inside the venue is, “Great fucking friend you are, you arsehole.”

You’re fully speechless watching all that happen before you, Amelia squeezes your forearm in shock and that snaps you out of your trance.

Your eyes go to Ross, who looks away when your eyes meet, then to George who just gives you a crooked smile and finally to Adam, who smiles softly at you like he’s trying to comfort you from afar.

“It’s just one of his tantrums, he’ll be alright.” Adam waves off as he sets his guitar on its stand, “He just needs a bit of time.”

You nod and sigh, the heaviness in your chest becoming more prominent, “Should I go check on him?”

“If you want?” George says once he’s down from where his kit is set up and shrugs at you with a bit of worry on his face.

Ross is the one to warn you though, “He might snap at you though, so don’t take it personal if he does.”

“Right.” You nod absentmindedly, trying to think of where Matty might be. You let your bottom lip free from between your teeth and turn to your best friend before you’re off to find your boyfriend, “Sorry Ames, I’ll be right back.”

Shooting Amelia an apologetic look, you start walking past her and she manages to get a little chuckle from you when she calls, “S’okay. Go get your man.”

You make a dash for the backstage area and arrive at the greenroom the quickest you can, and thankfully Matty is right there pacing the room with his head in his hands. His hair is sticking out in every direction from how much he’s pulling on it in frustration.

Careful to not startle him, you clear your throat as you walk into the room and stop when you’ve barely crossed the threshold. “Baby-” You try to ask him if he’s alright, but he interrupts your words when he looks up at you, red eyes with tears threatening to spill out at any second, and basically throws himself into your arms.

The weight of his body hitting yours has a huff slipping past your lips but your arms are quick to clutch him tightly and you allow him to just silently cry into you again. Instantly, you start whispering sweet nothings as you try to calm him down, but nothing works for a while.

Slowly, you guide the both of you to the nearest settee and when you take a seat on it, you encourage him to get comfortable with you. He has his legs thrown over your lap, his head hidden away in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Matty is fully silent the whole time, just letting everything out on you and you try your best not to get upset yourself as he cries. 10 minutes must go by when he sniffles continuously and takes deep breaths as if trying to calm himself down, and he lifts his head up once he’s managed to stop crying but not before leaving a bunch of pecks on your neck.

“I’m such a twat, I’m so-” He tries to apologise in a panic, retreating to his space on the settee so he peels himself off you and that has you frowning.

“Don’t.” You interrupt his attempt at an apology and turn to him with a soft expression, your hand comes up to his face and cups it, thumb rubbing on his cheek and feeling the stubble creeping on his skin. “It’s okay, baby. Nothing to apologise for. You feeling a bit better?”

Your boyfriend lets his eyes close at your touch and he hums as confirmation in complete honesty. He’s so glad he can let himself be this vulnerable into you and he certainly notices just how much comfort you bring him because just your presence helps him settle down a bit after what had happened.

“Good.” You mumble in response and, cradling his head, you pull him onto you so he can rest on your chest while you hug him.

Despite all the bullshit that has gone down, seeing how you react in this situation and how you comfort him has his chest swelling. There’s no denying it anymore that you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to him and some thoughts start to clear up in his mind, all about the feelings he has towards you and a hint of how he might’ve underestimated them a little.

About 5 more minutes go by before the band and Amelia come back into the greenroom, their chatter quieting down when they walk into the room. They are wary about the state Matty was in and they don’t really want to disturb him if it was affecting him that much. There will be a much better moment to talk about it later so they will keep their mouths shut about it until the time comes to bring it up.

Amelia walks up to the drinks table and gets you and herself a water bottle, it really is so that you can give it to Matty because she doesn't want to disturb the singer. But when she walks up to you and hands you the bottle, you smile at her and thank her and the mention of her name makes Matty lift his head up to see your best friend.

He offers Amelia a forced side smile and you’re both surprised when he says, “M’sorry for ruining your birthday Ames.”

Amelia clicks her tongue and waves him off, “You haven’t! There’s nothing to apologise for, Matty.”

Your boyfriend gets himself up and pulls her into another hug, “Let me make you a drink, as an apology.”

“Maybe that apology I will accept.” Amelia giggles and she gives Matty a tight squeeze.

Your curly haired brunette smiles at your best friend before letting her go, and he looks between you and her before clapping and rubbing his hands together, “Let’s get the party started then.”

You don’t get in the way of that at all, George gets involved immediately grabbing a can out of the fridge and Rebekka and Polly all grab drinks too. Thankfully once music gets put on, the atmosphere settles a little and you relax that little bit more. And you’re really thankful to everyone wanting to make Amelia’s day special.

After you all end up having your first drink and raising your glasses to your best friend, you quickly grab your boyfriend’s attention for a moment, just to tell him, “I’m just gonna run to the bus. I need to get something, very quickly.”

“You remember the way back here, right?” Matty double checks, and he’s about to offer to come back with you until you assure him.

“I do.” You promise, and you cheekily ask, “Can you please make me another one of those cocktails for when I get back?”

Matty just grins though, “Of course baby.”

Quickly, you kiss him before you head out and Matty’s heart races that little bit when you turn back before you walk out and you catch him smiling at you.

He feels himself blush at the way you wink at him before you disappear off and he takes a second to calm down before he preps the drink you requested. He chats to your best friend with ease and Matty can tell himself getting that little bit better because she provides him with a good distraction. Even if she is jokingly asking if you’re boring him on tour yet or if your excitement has dwindled during the gigs.

When you come back 10 minutes later, everyone notices because when you come back in because as you do, you flick the lights off and when all eyes go to the door, they see you smiling with a birthday cake in your hands. You start off singing Happy Birthday to your best friend and you walk toward her with a grin and laugh through the lyrics when you see her cackling at the fact you have bought her a children’s Spiderman cake.

You’re glad she found it funny as all of this Andrew Garfield hype definitely wasn’t going to leave her anytime soon. After you set the cake down just before the song finished, Amelia blew out her candles and turned to you to give you the biggest hug ever. She thanks you a bunch of times and you giggle telling her how much you love her and have missed her and that you hope she has a fantastic day. After you say how excited you are for her to open her presents, and she promises she’ll open them when you both get back to the hotel, she notices that you’ve changed.

“Outfit change?” Amelia asks with a grin, as she knows exactly where she’s seen this outfit on you before.

You grin and nod, “Had to get my party fit on, Ames.”

“Course.” She laughs, and you notice the way Matty grins as he realises what you’ve changed into as she says, “You look hot.”

You wink at her and smile, “Thanks bestie.”

She winks back at you before turning around herself and heading over to socialise with Ross.

“Party outfit?” Your boyfriend moves over and wraps his arm around your waist. He can’t help but knowingly ask, “You’re wearing this for me?”

He doesn’t even have to ask. He knows you are. Why else would you be wearing red leather pants paired with a cheetah print, long sleeve top?

You shrug nonchalantly, trying not to let the grin tug at your lips, “Maybe?”

“Brings back good memories.” Matty says as he comes around to stand in front of you and he wraps his arms around your waist.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of your first date. You genuinely can’t believe that your favourite singer is now your boyfriend, and it all started in a chicken shop in Cricklewood. “Amazing memories.”

Matty has genuinely never been so glad he agreed to an interview. And yes maybe he will eventually admit that he requested to have the date with you, but he’s beyond glad that he did because you have changed his life so much, and it’s certainly for the better.

“The bandana is missing though.” He points out with a soft pout on his face, you can’t hold back from pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“I didn’t pack it. Sorry baby.” You truly wish you had taken that red bandana with you now but you think the outfit looks recognizable enough without it.

He quickly finds a solution in his head, “I can sort that out.” A red bandana is easy to get, he figures.

“‘Course you can.” You scoff out a laugh, but your amusement settles deep in your chest to add to the adoration you feel for this man. “Kinda wish it was raining right now, you know?” Your voice raises in pitch slightly and your smile grows bigger on your face when you think back to that moment, “Wanna kiss you in the rain again.”

Matty blushes and smiles so big, it reaches his eyes, wrinkles showing at the edges and it makes you melt as he says, “Do you?”

You hum as you nod, “I really do.” And just to taunt him you feign pity as you say, “What a shame, isn’t it?”

His eyes go from your down to your lips and up again continuously, you lick your bottom lip purposely as if daring him to kiss you but he sighs shakily and agrees, “What a shame.”

You want to laugh, his self control clearly crumbling because his gaze keeps dropping down to your lips, so you wrap your arms around his neck and with a toothy smile, you say, “Just kiss me, silly.” and Matty is not one to say no to anything you want.

However, your kiss is interrupted by Amelia and Ross gagging loudly beside you as they approach you with shots in hand. Turns out having tequila shots was the birthday girl’s wishes and you are pushed to downing the hellish liquid multiple times while you wait for the show to start.

Right before you’re off to the pit, you all have a little toast to the tour and to Amelia and it’s so cute being part of this little family. It warms your heart looking back and seeing how everyone had welcomed you into the tour and it’s even more special when you see your best friend also be treated like one of the family.

You’ve caught her giggling around with the band all night, having long conversations with Polly and Ross and even whispering about god-knows-what to Matty before you leave. It has you curious how they seem to be scheming something in secret until the very last minute you have in the greenroom.

But you forget to ask what they were talking about when you’re rushing out of the greenroom and it’s hilarious because, since you’re so tipsy, you and Amelia are giggling uncontrollably as you make your way through the pit.

Your note tonight is perfect for what Matty has schemed with Amelia, and he thinks it’s such a cute coincidence that you’ve written, Baby you look so cool x (you’d originally written babe but scribbled the e and written a y just underneath it) without knowing what is going to happen when the band starts playing Robbers.

Next comes the Charlie Chaplin cover of Smile which never fails to make you do just that, even if Matty acts all drunk and lonely on stage as he sings. You think it’s a beautiful song and you’re so happy that you’d got to see him sing it so often. But what happens next shocks you and the entire arena beyond belief.

It sobers you up watching the bit play out on stage, unbelievably so when you see Matty break down into tears holding Ross’ shoulder and apologising to him as Ross is forced to stand there and not react. You can’t even tell if he’s crying for the bit or not, it worries you.

As soon as you knew the consumption interlude was coming, you headed backstage needing to know if everything was alright because even though he had played 6 more songs after that bit had happened, he seemed a bit off.

So you appeared backstage and your arms opened up for him to run into them the second you saw him and you’re so glad he clutches you tightly and promises you he’s alright after you ask him if there was something bothering him.

He didn’t have much time to stay and chat to you, since the crew had gotten the stage ready for the at their very best section quickly so you reluctantly let him go with a sweet kiss that he thoroughly enjoys despite being rushed back onto stage.

Once he’s gone back on stage with the lads, you figure it’s better for you to be close to the stage just in case he gets upset again, so you go to the far left side of the stage where typically the crew watch the show from and stay there for the rest of the show.

Or at least that is what you were planning to do until your boyfriend takes the opportunity of An Encounter drowning the arena to start a little monologue which sparks your curiosity.

Matty smiles into the microphone and adjusts his in-ears as he walks over to the edge of the stage and leans forward as if he’s about to tell the crowd a secret. “You know, this next song has become a lot more special this past month and I wanted to share with you the reason for why that is.”

Listening to those words knowing that Robbers is next makes you turn slowly to your best friend and you find Amelia smiling brightly as you and you just know she has to do something with this because of the mischievous glint in her eyes.

There isn’t a chance for you to even ask about what’s happening when she drags you into the back of the stage and up the stairs so that you’re right beside the house. You’re so confused but you have to take quick steps so you don’t fall and it is when you’re almost by the door of the house that she pulls out a piece of red fabric and when a bit of light manages its way over where you are standing, you realise it’s a red bandana - the one you were missing.

“Put this on.” Amelia holds the bandana out for you.

But you’re so confused about everything, and why you’ve been moved to behind the stage, and what the bandana is even for, so you blankly ask, “What?”

“God- Okay,” Amelia half laughs, before she takes control of the situation as your confusion isn’t helping, “I’ll put it on you then.”

Your best friend spins you around so she can tie the material at the back of your head before turning you back and adjusting the bandana so it’s over your nose and it’s in the perfect position.

“What’s going on?” You ask as she’s doing this.

Your confusion doesn’t help when you can also hear screams from the audience and Matty’s muffled voice too. Clearly somethings going on and you’ve been left in the dark.

Your best friend looks you dead in the eye and pleads, “Trust me okay.” But you can’t settle.

“Ames, what’s happening?” You repeat yourself and she must be able to see the panic in your eyes because she answers you.

“You’re gonna go out there for something your boyfriend has planned.”

It’s an instinctive reaction to immediately be defensive, “What?! No!”

“Yes, come on!” Amelia grins, and quickly goes on to guilt trip you, “For me? For my birthday?”

“Ames…” You trail off, feeling like you’re frozen because you have no idea what you’re meant to do. Especially when she hands you a black bandana.

But your best friend spells it out for you, “As soon as Matty opens the door, you’re gonna tie this around his neck, okay?”

“Okay.” You say in a bit of a rush, your blood flooding with adrenaline so you blindly accept what she’s telling you. She adjusts your red one on your nose again, making sure it’s perfectly positioned as she instructs, “And keep this one around yours.”

You not without really knowing you’re agreeing yet you respond, “Okay.”

“Good luck,” She grins at you like a proud mother, “You got this.”

“Amelia-” You’re about to beg her for something more, but before you can the door in front of you opens, almost making you jump.

Your boyfriend stands at the open door with his hand already out for you to grab, the dreamiest smile on his face and you’re so nervous, you’re feeling a rush of a million emotions in one second.

And then your gaze drops to his chest in full show because his shirt is open and when you realise he’s somehow managed to get the Robbers shirt and is proudly wearing it for the song. It knocks the wind out of you, your throat goes dry at your lack of knowledge of what’s about to happen that involves you but Matty looks so happy compared to earlier that you’re willing to take part of whatever he’s planned.

That sultry, “Hey baby.” which makes your stomach flutter, snaps you out of the initial shock.

“What are we doing?” You ask through the bandana, almost frozen in your spot but he encourages you to take a small step forward.

“Putting on a show.” He pulls back and grins before he looks down at you and squeezes your hand as he says, “You look gorgeous.”

“I-” Whilst the compliment makes you blush, you’re not really sure it’s the time as you want more instructions from him than flattery. Regardless though, you end up stuttering a, “Thank you.”

“I got you baby. Let’s go.” Matty squeezes your hand tightly and this time you don’t hesitate to step out to him as you hear An Encounter begin to fade into your favourite song. Your boyfriend turns to you once more at the entryway to his house, the both of you just beside Rebekka and he still shields you from most people as he leans down to say into your ear, “Do what we did the other day in soundcheck, okay. I’ll stand on the table and when I go to sit down you crouch, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod complacently.

Kneel down in front of him, you can do. You’ve had practice at this point and you’ll be fine.

Your boyfriend checks once more, looking into your eyes intently for any discomfort you may be feeling as he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You promise him, nodding.

You trust Matty completely. If he wants you to do this, and be a part of his show, you’re going to do it as best you can.

The singer grins, leaning down again quickly to promise, “I got you.” and as you smile beneath the bandana, he also kisses just over your ear which makes you get flustered all over again.

And then suddenly you’re hit with a mass of screams and it’s difficult to even listen to the music that is being played around you. If you didn’t have those in-ears already in you would be fucked.

Matty walks just one step in front of you, pulling you across towards George, but only for a step until he turns back towards you and pulls you into his body. His hand lands on your waist and he slow dances you towards the white door as the drums kick in and everyone screams again.

Little do you know, more screams take place because on the screen, it comes up with, Special Guest: New Robbers Girl. It’s a detail which you will certainly be laughing at later but in the moment you have no idea as your boyfriend is dancing you across his stage.

You giggle, knowing exactly what he’s doing and what he’s referencing as you dreamed about someone doing this with you when you were younger and you first watched the music video that still to this day has you in a chokehold. Despite your heart beating wildly, you let him lead you like that, spinning you both around until you are through the door and see Polly and Jamie who give you big smiles.

That’s the moment Matty frees you from the short dance but he pulls your arm until it's fully extended and you’re gently dragged along in the direction of the stairs. It's again another reference to the beginning of the music video and you love it with all your heart.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, it doesn’t take you long to reach the place where you know you’re gonna be standing which is right by the coffee table and once your boyfriend turns you around by the waist so you’re facing him, you catch Adam smiling at you and it definitely helps to settle your nerves a bit.

But Matty starting to sing brings all of your attention back to him, goosebumps erupt all over your skin at the charged energy of the arena and the way he sounds with the crowd singing along.

In your hands remains the bandana Amelia gave you just before the door opened, and you remember what you’re meant to do with it when you clutch it tightly between your fingers. So you bring it up to his neck so you can tie it on the back, but your actions still when he sings the next line staring directly into your eyes.

“God only knows but you’ll never leave her,” the conviction in his eyes makes you melt inside, your knees get weak and your heart swells and the flood of every feeling this man brings you comes in even stronger when he reiterates into the mic, “Never.”

You aren’t sure how you manage to tie the bandana around his neck when that happens, but you’re soon smoothing your hands from his shoulders down to his sweaty taut chest and you genuinely feel like you need to pinch yourself just to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

His fingers wrap around your wrist and slowly he walks backwards until he hits the coffee table and he gets up on it. He doesn’t even have to guide you where to go because you’re positioning yourself right in front of him, looking up as he continues to sing.

The lights on stage showcase his beauty, and you can’t help but get lost in how good he looks in his element. It’s different seeing it from up close, the brown of his eyes glistening under the lighting and his curls being illuminated like a halo around his head.

“Begging babe stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.” You watch him intently and you can’t help but grin at the way he nudges the microphone against your chin for that final stay.

Matty can tell just how big your smile is from the way your eyes are half closed and the apples of your cheeks moving to bring the bandana up the slightest bit. And he smiles just as brightly, nothing has ever felt more right to him than this.

As he’s singing, “One more fight,” Matty slowly steps down from the table and you know your queue. You start to kneel down and when you do Matty sits on the end of the table.

You’re singing along with him, not giving a shit if he can hear you or not or whether it’s ruining what he had planned but you can’t help yourself. He’s singing your favourite song to you.

He reaches the first, “Will I know you.” and as Adam’s guitar begins to ring in the background, Matty leans in and you know what’s coming. You welcome the way he gently grabs your jaw over your bandana and he pulls you in.

In the short gap between the verses, Matty presses his lips over yours, through the red material you’re wearing, and you can’t help but smile as you close your eyes to kiss him back. It’s a weird sensation, kissing but not quite, but you can feel his smile through it and you can see the joy on his face when you both pull away seconds after the crowd erupts in screams.

What the fuck is happening? Is all that’s going through your mind at the moment.

Your mind just can’t really grasp reality at the minute, not when your boyfriend is making one of your teenage dreams come true. Hell, your boyfriend is your teenage dream come true.

Both of you stay in that position as he continues onto the second verse, with you singing along as he looks into your eyes. Matty can tell you’re doing this, and he doesn’t need to see beneath the material to know that your lips are pulled into a huge smile, he can tell just from your eyes alone.

“You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face.” Matty grins over his microphone as he sings that line at you. But he doesn’t stop there, he gently traces his finger down the centre of your face as he does and it has people screaming that little bit louder, along with you doing the same internally.

As he continues, he doesn’t let his touch stray for long. Instead, he takes a piece of your hair and starts toying with it. Twirling it around his finger over and over as he sings, “And when she’s leaving you’re home, she’s begging you to stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.”

Your eyes glimmer with adoration and your heart feels like it’s about to burst in your chest when he sings, “There’ll be a riot, cause I know you.” and he takes a hold of your wrist where ‘Be a riot’ is inked on your skin and he plants a chaste kiss over it.

It isn’t long that you can stay short circuiting over the gesture, because he’s sliding his hand up from your wrist to intertwine your fingers and helping you back up to stand on your feet.

The song starts building up, his voice becoming more passionate and so does his touch which goes from your hand to cup the side of your neck, bringing you a step closer to him. His fingers lace through the strands of your hair, twirling them softly before letting them fall.

And you know it then, what he’s going to do, knowing which line is sneaking up on you and you nod, reading his mind about it. It’s subtle and reassuring, and it’s warmth that envelopes you as it pours out of both of you when you know that this is it.

Matty’s finger tentatively comes to rest over the bridge of your nose, hooking on the edge of the bandana and he slowly peels it down your face as he sings, “But if you just take off your mask,”

The screams of the crowd when your face is finally revealed are deafening, yet it feels like you’re inside of a bubble. Just you and Matty. No one else. And this is your moment, just you two and there’s absolutely nothing else you could ever wish for.

Your cheeks hurt from how big you’re smiling, and his own smile is making it harder for him to continue singing. That and how badly he wants to seal this moment with a kiss, how badly he wants for everyone to know just how strongly he feels about you, how badly he wants for everyone to see how you’ve got him at your mercy entirely because he’s sure there’s nothing you could ever ask that he wouldn’t do.

“Sing it for me babies!” Matty shouts to the audience and he holds the microphone out towards them so they can scream, ‘Now everybody’s dead!’ but your boyfriend has other ideas for you two.

With his other hand, Matty cups the back of your neck and firmly and fiercely kisses you as the crowd screams the lyrics at the both of you. He lets the wire fall over his arm as he drops the microphone so he can get it again with ease later, but he brings his now free hand to your waist, wrapping it around your lower back pulling you into him, until he consumes you entirely.

It’s instinctive that your hand roots into his curls at this point, the other grabbing hold of his open shirt, pulling it towards you making sure he can’t escape either. Your heart is pounding, entirely running on adrenaline, and completely overwhelmed with the feelings you have for the man who’s holding you in his arms.

Matty never wants to let you go and you hope he doesn’t either. Over the loud screams you can barely hear the song anymore but you know he’s missed more than just that one lyric. It’s only when you just about hear the others singing through your in-ears, “He’s got his gun.” that you realise you’ve both got too wrapped up in the moment.

Yet, still in your hazy mind, you manage to register your favourite part of the song and you’re the one who pulls back and breaks the kiss solely to tell him, “Babe, you look so cool.”

His face is flushed, curls dishevelled just how you like them and that loopy smile on his face that melts your heart, and he looks into your eyes in a way that you just can’t describe, his lips parting and letting a soft exhale to hit your mouth before he sings to you, “You look so cool.”

Suddenly, he remembers he’s meant to sing so he’s hastily getting ahold of the mic again, but he interrupts himself and cuts the run he’s meant to do as he sings the word ‘cool’ when he watches your lips move as you sing along and he can’t be arsed singing anymore when you’re right there in front of him.

He throws the mic to the floor, the wire falling down his arm so he’s free to cup your face with both hands and pressing your lips together feverishly. His arms wrap around the back of your neck, and he brings his hands up to your hair to pull on it softly once before he’s crossing his forearms behind your head so he can pull you impossibly closer to him.

You moan softly into his mouth at his desperation, matching it with the way your fingers dig into the flesh of his waist where you’re holding him tightly as if there was a chance that he could be snatched away from you if you weren’t careful. You kiss until you’re lost for breath, only parting when you need to for air but it's never for more than a split second.

There's a push and pull between you as the rest of the band finish playing the song with huge smiles on their faces. If Matty came into the kiss a little too strong you’d try and take a step backwards but he quickly follows you, keeping you in the kiss, and he would lean backwards pulling you forwards.

The song unfortunately ends and that's when you force yourself to pull back from the kisses. But when you do, Matty just grins and he turns towards the crowd, pulling you with him and he moves so he can hug you from behind quickly so you can take in the applause.

“All for us baby.” He says into your ear, and you can’t help but turn around to quickly hug him, a little embarrassed being up here in front of so many people.

Your boyfriend giggles but doesn’t hesitate for a second to hug you back as the applause rings on. After a second though you pull back and Matty takes your hand in his and he starts moving the both of you back over to Adam’s side of the stage so you can get to the stairs.

Matty lets you walk in front of him, making sure you get up the stairs alright, and then he lets you walk back across the top of the stage towards the ‘front’ door. George and Rebekka grin at you as you walk past which gets you a little more embarrassed but you embrace it when you get to the door and you look out at the huge audience again.

You blow them all a kiss and give them a big wave and smile which makes everyone scream again and it makes you giggle. When you turn to look at your boyfriend again, he’s already grinning at you and he gives your hand a squeeze, and just the way he’s looking so cute and so gooey, you give him another kiss.

It’s quicker than your last few but it means just as much as those ones. You can feel each other's smiles which cuts it a little shorter but you’re grinning like fools when you step back towards the door again.

Like a gentleman he opens the door for you and as you’re about to go through he pulls you back in for another kiss. It’s a short kiss but it’s one you cherish so much, even more when you part and at the same time you both mouth, “Obsessed with you.” at each other. You take a step through the door but before you can walk through, you feel yourself get all flustered as he looks at you, before you can walk through the door though he holds your hip and tells you, “Wait here a second baby.”

Matty quickly pecks your lips one last time, before he jumps down from the top stage, onto the settee and then he quickly crouches down to pick up the microphone from near the edge of the stage where he threw it earlier. He sighs with a toothy grin on his face once his eyes are back on the crowd. Seeing this many people witness you and him finally out and not sneaking around makes him incredibly happy.

“Y/N Y/L/N, ladies and gentlemen.” His voice rings through the speakers, as he turns to watch you wave goodbye to the mass of people in front of the stage and you quickly blow him another kiss before you turn to walk back through the house’s door.

“Wow, what a girlfriend reveal!” Matty breathes out with a giggle at the end, as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door. He’s so giddy, he just can’t conceal it and he doesn’t really want to so he gives in and proudly shares with the crowd as he grabs he walks up and down the stage, “I’m a very lucky man. The luckiest in fact, can you believe I’ve managed to snag one of the hotties from Chicken Shop Date?”

The crowd gets loud again but the noise doesn’t stop the thoughts from leaving the singer’s mouth entirely unfiltered, “I know I can’t. Still have to pinch myself every morning when I wake up next to her. She’s truly the woman of my dreams.” Matty feels his cheeks get hot at the admission, a string of giggles slipping past his lips.

At least the screams he gets as a response feel like validation so he continues with it, “Sorry for being soppy but, I mean… You lot know her, how could I not?” He’s trying to elongate the mic’s wire, knowing which song is next on the setlist and how he’s gonna want to go all around the stage.

But as he finishes unknotting it and pulling it the most he can, he looks back up to the people before him and adds some more, “Isn’t she just fucking gorgeous as well?”

Matty truly could speak about you for hours, it’s not even been a month since you’ve officially gotten together but he has so many things about you pinned to the forefront of his mind and there’s so many things that he thinks about you that he could honestly find himself lost in sentences regarding all that you are and what you’ve achieved and every little thing you do.

So it’s no surprise that his tongue wants to let loose and spill all of these thoughts out but then he hears George call him, “Simp,” through his in-ears and all of the band giggles when it stops Matty in his tracks.

He turns around to look at the drummer with a glare and he calls him out, “Alright George, piss off. I don’t say shit when you’re with Charli.”

It makes the crowd laugh and holler, some of them spouting comments in the air that get lost in the chaos of so many people shouting at the same time but in a couple of seconds it settles and a particular scream manages to make itself clear out of the crowd and Matty cackles loudly into the mic, “Someone’s just said foursome.”

George laughs into the mic as well, and Matty manages to hear something along the lines of, “You can be in the corner recording.” in between the crowd’s loud screams at the prospect of the lewd proposition.

“Let’s not bring that back to Y/N’s attention please, I’ve already gone through that chat.” Matty admits with a cheeky smile, hoping that you’re listening to this and already picturing in his mind the way you must be flustered at this talk being had on stage in front of thousands of people.

And you are flustered, fanning yourself because you feel scorching hot after everything that has happened in the past ten minutes. So much so, you’ve had to sit down and you’re now watching the screens backstage as you listen to your boyfriend.

“I feel faint.” You let Amelia know, your brows are softly pinched together from how lightheaded and hot you’re feeling but still staring at the screen in front of you with a look that Amelia reads instantly.

With the adrenaline dying down, you can’t quite believe you’ve just done that. You got your robbers kiss, your moment to your favourite song that you’ve only dreamed about since 2013. And now, you and Matty are public. You can’t stop smiling despite the way your heart is beating out of your chest.

Amelia sits beside you, her arm going over your shoulder and she pulls you into her as she giggles before kissing your cheek.

“You’re down bad.” She concludes, she can see it written all over your face and it shines through your eyes and her heart swells in her chest for you.

She’s never seen you so happy.

Despite how soon it may be, you nod in confirmation, “I am.”

From the way your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard and the tingling you feel rushing to every corner of your being, you know it’s more than the adrenaline pumping through your veins that is making your heart beat wildly. After what just happened on stage, there’s no way you can deny that your feelings for Matty are getting stronger with every second you spend by his side.

It’s crazy. It’s rushed. It’s far too soon. You can almost clearly hear everyone telling you.

But you know in your heart, nothing and nobody has ever felt more right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: We hope you enjoyed this one because we truly loved writing it so much. We were so emotional thinking about how this was originally the end, so glad we got more content to continue writing about! We just wanted to say that we’re not having the Friedland podcast in this story because we have no interest in touching that subject in a work of fiction that we consider an escape from reality. Instead, since this is a continuation of NRIACC Matty and he wouldn’t have ever taken part in that, we’re having the Brits as they were meant to happen and we’re so excited to write that evening and share it with you guys. Thanks so much for reading again, and for your patience and all the love you give this story, yous are the best! xx 

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[chelseeebe]

wherever you stray (i follow)

more apocalypse au! yayyy

i actually really am enjoying writing this bc it’s so different.. i haven’t really decided if it’s zombies or UD related but i guess it’s not explicitly mentioned yet.. anyway, there may or may not be an appearance from someone from steve’s past.. we’ll have to see

i’m sorry everything is taking so long.. it’s the festive period and i am working like crazy while also trying to see my friends and acc enjoy the time so my writing time is limited

as always, 18+.

₊ ⊹

steve had never expected life on the road to be so.. fun?

he feels weird even thinking about it because in all honesty, the shit you’d both endured while on this journey had been anything but fun. he thinks, or rather knows, that if it were anyone else but you, he’d have turned back a long time ago.

you’re not easy on him by any means, coaxing him into walking to the next town over after he’d already proclaimed he was done for the night and making him open the scary doors while you stood poised. nevertheless, he enjoyed it.

that was until now, when everything was flipped on its head and you were the one begging to call it a night.

‘steve,’ you warn from somewhere behind him. he barely glances back, keeping on hobbling forward. his leg was throbbing, the pain searing up to his thigh, but he’d never tell you that.

steve had got caught up in some barbed wire a few days ago, the sharp metal had torn his leg to shreds. it was an almighty wound that had set you back a couple of days in the schedule. you’d been petrified of tetanus, asking him hourly if he was sure that he’d had his vaccinations, tenderly prodding the painful area as you muttered a plethora of symptoms of infection.

there wasn’t really much he could do except bandage it up and hope he didn’t die. maybe a few years ago he would’ve freaked the hell out over it but now he’d realised that that never helped anybody. it especially would not help you.

‘i’m fine,’ he grits, stopping to turn and look at you. your face painted with the deepest frown, arms crossed over your chest. it was reminiscent of his mother, how she’d stand a the kitchen table when he’d come home with yet another black eye. except he felt you actually cared, she had just wanted an explanation.

‘no you’re not,’ you assert, as if you knew him better than himself. hey, after this maybe you did. ‘there’s a perfectly good house here.. we can rest for a while and i can check your leg,’ you bargain with him, trying the puppy dog eye technique that very often won him over.

steve holds his hands up, he wasn’t going to let you win this one, not after he had been the sole reason you guys were so behind. ‘i’m okay.. i don’t need to rest, i’ve got at least another two miles in me,’ toothy grin on full display.

‘i’m not going back and forth with you, we’re stopping here for the night.’

he sighs as you stomp angrily up to him, ‘i am fine.. no we’re not. why don’t you just believe me?’

steve thinks he sees hell in your eyes, the scorn of the devil written all over your face, ‘because i love you and i don’t want you to lose your fucking leg for the sake of two extra miles,’ your brows knotted together in pure rage.

he doesn’t respond, decides it’s better for his health not to. rather just nodding, letting you guide him towards the, hopefully, derelict house. your words ring around his head, echoing loudly as you do all of the heavy lifting, checking the house and ensuring there were no nasty surprises.

love.

you said you love him.

he wouldn’t ever admit to it, but he’d been toying with the same thought for at least two weeks now. deciding over and over again that it couldn’t possibly be love, it was too soon. he was just.. infatuated, or something.

but hearing the words straight from your mouth solidified his feelings.

the moment you clear one of the upstairs bedrooms and bundle him inside, his grin is unstoppable. reaching his eyes as he just stands staring, waiting for you to finish barricading the damn door before he speaks.

‘what?’ you question, startled by his stillness, ‘what are you looking at?’

‘what d’you say outside?’ he doesn’t take his eyes off of you even as you rush around, checking the windows and then slinging the heavy bag into the floor.

you blink back at him until it clicks, ‘wha- oh,’ your cheeks burn, suddenly much more interested in the room than him, ‘please don’t.’

‘you said you love me,’ steve beams, ignoring your warning though he’d probably regret it.

‘steve, i didn’t-,’

he cuts you off before you can even finish, not allowing you to play the bashful game, ‘you didn’t mean it? i don’t believe you,’ his unfaltering smile still occupying his entire face, right up to his eyes.

you punch his arm, now stood directly in front of him, ‘i didn’t mean to say it like that,’ your own smile inches onto your lips, he’s almost begging you to let it out, ‘i thought it’d be a little more romantic than this,’ gesturing towards the rundown house you stood in.

‘i don’t think romance exists anymore,’ his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer as you use his shoulders for leverage, ‘say it again.’

you groan, hands coming to connect around his grubby neck, ‘do i have to?’

‘yes.’

steve adores how diffident you become, ducking your head down before the words form and the very quietly squeaking out a tiny, ‘i love you.’

it’s enough for him, his grin growing tenfold, ‘i love you too,’ bumping his nose against yours, drawing your attention back to his face rather than the splintered floorboards.

what’s left of the pale sunlight reflects off of your eye, practically glimmering at him, ‘i know,’ you giggle quietly, ‘you said it in your sleep the other night..’

his smile drops, ‘what? you weren’t supposed to find out like that,’ sighing softly, his stupid, drugged up brain had let it slip before he even had the chance to.

you respond by pressing your sweet lips to his, god he wishes he had some chapstick. you deserve more than his cracked lips.

far more than this world could offer you.

though he would certainly try his hardest.

-

steve normally took first watch because he knew if he didn’t, you’d never wake him up for his shift, rather letting him sleep all night but tonight he doesn’t argue. his leg hurts too much to waste time going back and forth with you.

it’s only when he wakes up to a room full of sunlight that he starts to question how long he’d been out. there’s an echo of his name coming from somewhere, still too encompassed by sleep to figure out what the hell was going on.

‘look who’s finally awake,’ the voice starts but it’s not you.

you’re not next to him either, his arms cradle the pillow where your body should’ve been. that’s when he turns, the bedroom door flung open and a familiar figure looms in the doorway.

‘tommy?’ he croaks out, sitting up against the headboard.

what the hell was happening?

you’re nowhere to be seen, the makeshift barricade pushed back against the wall rather than where it should’ve been. his mind instantly flashes to the worst case scenario, you’ve been taken or tommy has done something to you.

holy shit.

‘stevie! i didn’t know if you’d recognise me,’ tommy leers, still lingering in the doorway, hand poised on his gun.

steve hadn’t seen the boy in years at this point, not properly. they passed each other in the halls but after the whole ordeal with jonathan in the alley, they hadn’t spoke since. which steve was eternally grateful for, the red head was in simple terms, an asshole. there was no part of him that wanted to be involved with people like that.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ steve questions, voice still heavy with sleep.

god he hopes this is just a bad dream and any second now, he’ll wake up and you’ll be by his side.

tommy’s face drops in faux-offence, ‘c’mon man, is that any way to treat an old friend?’ the side of his lips curling up. he always was a horrible person, provoking people til they had no choice but to respond.

‘how’d you know i was here?’ he asks, deciding not to mention you on the off chance you had just run off and tommy had no idea of your existence.

‘i was searchin’ houses.. thought you’d be smarter than this man, sleepin’ with no protection,’ his eyes fall to steve’s leg, eyebrows raised with opportunity, ‘and you’re hurt,’ the boy tuts, ‘this should be easy then.’

steve stiffens up, his bag was on the floor next to the bed, there’s no chance he’s faster than tommy.. he’d never get it in time.

it’s then that steve’s eyes flit to you, appearing silently behind tommy in the doorway. his heart drops. you were alive. tommy clocks on immediately, eyes following steve’s gaze to your looking figure behind. but before he can turn around fully, the baseball bat connects with his cranium, his body falling to the floor with a mighty thump.

you stand staring at the lifeless body for a moment, chest heaving as you step over him and over to the bed. wide-eyed and trembling, god knows how much of that you heard.

‘oh my god you’re okay,’ steve starts, reaching up to hold onto your cheeks, ‘i thought something had happened.. jesus christ where were you?’ he’s trying not to sound like such an overbearing mother but it’s not exactly working.

‘your leg was hot.. i went to go find medicine, i barricaded it from the other side but i didn’t think that asshole would show up,’ your hand caresses his atop of your cheek, ‘i got the medicine though,’ you look somewhat hopeful, pulling the bottle from your pocket and presenting it to him.

once steve has calmed down a little, he takes two of whatever it is, looking nervously at his ex-friend still on the floor, ‘i can’t believe you killed him..’ he trails off, even if he didn’t particularly like tommy, he didn’t want him dead.

your face screws up, pausing as you shove your belongings into your rucksack, ‘he’s not dead steve,’ you state, features contorted as you glare at him.

‘oh,’ he chuckles awkwardly, relief washing over him. ‘well shit,’ a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, taking over when you shake your head in disappointment. look, he wasn’t the brightest, never had been.

‘he’s probably gonna wake up soon so we need to get the hell outta’ here,’ you frown, glancing at the lifeless body.

you trundle over, taking the man’s gun from his hand, patting his pockets for anymore concealed weapons he may have. pulling a small switchblade from his back pocket, steve recognises it immediately. he’d been there when tommy had carved his and carol’s initials into some old tree in the woods by school. he wonders if it’s still there now.

‘how d’you know this guy anyway?’ you ask, slipping the knife into your own pocket. he watches dubiously, he’d never been a thief.

‘we were best friends..’ he swallows, maybe he had left some things out about his life before the end of the world. there’s no way to explain why they drifted apart other than to admit to how cruel he once was. ‘just drifted, you know?’ it wasn’t exactly a lie and he’s not sure you’d even care but now didn’t feel like the appropriate time to admit to all of his wrongdoings.

you nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder, ‘sucks.. but i’m not gonna lie, he didn’t seem like a great person,’ shrugging as steve finds his feet, getting off of the bed for the first time in hours.

‘he wasn’t,’ again, not a lie.

you hum in response and steve looks to the floor. he wasn’t keen on discussing the ins and outs of his friendship with tommy hagan right now. or ever really.

-

the rest of the journey up here had been pretty non-eventful. his leg was healing nicely and he was able to walk for at least another hour without complaining out loud. most people had obviously found communities, not daring to go out in the road anymore.

without mention of the run in with tommy, it had just been just the two of you. well you and the grotesque, rotting monsters that roamed around the forest. he thinks the cold must slow them down as your gun goes, mostly, unused.

steve has never seen you look quite so excited. the moment you’d crossed the boundary into your town, you’d been babbling nonstop about where you grew up. pointing out important locations and silly details about things he couldn’t even picture. his eyes instinctively roll when you mention the now decrepit diner you had your first date. he can’t help it.

it’s only when you near what he assumes is your neighbourhood that you quiet down, holding onto his hand with an iron clad grip. your nails dig into the grime covered skin when you spot the gargantuan make-shift wall up in front. he doesn’t squirm or pull away, instead he whispers a small it’s okay as you near the cul-de-sac.

‘what if they’re not there?’ you ask, shrinking into yourself.

he doesn’t have the right words to assure you but he’ll try his hardest, ‘then.. then we’ll find them.’ he hasn’t a clue what lies on the other side of that wall, perhaps the people behind it weren’t friendly and you’d never find out or maybe there weren’t even any people left.

but you’ll find out together and that’s all that matters.

someone’s head pokes over the top of the wall, gun poised at steve’s head. they must be stupid if they think he’s the one they should be scared of.

‘stop right there, don’t come any closer,’ the heavily armed woman shouts down, ‘what do you want?’

steve looks to you, unsure if he should even attempt to speak right now. his fingers squeeze yours for silent reassurance, there’s a voice above but he can’t see who it’s coming from, tucked behind the wall as they inevitably discuss your fate.

‘i used to live here,’ you speak, just loud enough for the first woman to peer down at you. she looks back towards the other mystery voice and then another face appears, eyes like saucers when they spot you.

‘open the gate,’ she orders, ‘open the gate now!’ barking at the other lady who jumps to it.

steve stands in quiet wonderment, glancing back at you with your mouth hung open. so you must know each other. or is that your mom? now he truly understands how you must’ve felt coming out of that nurses office to a bunch of strangers.

but you don’t let go of his hand when the gate creaks open just enough to let the two of you through. the houses are all more or less how he imagined they’d looked before everything started.

‘oh my god,’ you sputter out, dropping his hand to jog over to the faceless woman, throwing your arms around her neck as she pulls you in.

you don’t look particularly similar but steve has no idea what your parents look like. he wasn’t quite so prepared to meet the parents though he’d had weeks and weeks to think about what to say.

who even is he? not your boyfriend. yet. maybe it just wouldn’t be brought up in the midst of all the reunions.

he knows you love each other, you’d said that much, that he’d hobbled across state lines for you and would do just about anything to make sure you were safe so, did labels even matter in the apocalypse?

‘i can’t believe you’re here,’ the lady cries, still wrapped up in your arms. the locals are looking on with a mixture of confused and joyous looks on their faces.

‘neither can i,’ you sniff, pulling back and looking at her, hands still firmly on her arms. ‘are they here?’ you rush out excitedly, full of hope.

the woman’s, who is still yet to be introduced to, face falls, her voice dropping an octave as she speaks, ‘baby..’ she tremors through the sentence. ‘they left to go and find you.. i don’t- they haven’t come back..’

your smile drops immediately, steve’s heart sinks. he couldn’t begin to imagine how you felt. the pair of you had made it across multiple states, lived through steve’s injury and evil past friends for nothing.

he supposes that it wasn’t for nothing exactly. despite the bickering and rumbling stomachs, it had brought the two of you closer.

now his heart breaks the way yours does when you bury your face into his chest, shoulders shaking as you wet his already ruined shirt.

-

the next few hours are a blur of introductions, meeting people you called neighbour not so long ago. the now-identified woman was called janet, who had told him all about how they fortified the neighbourhood and their efforts to keep everyone alive. they’d done something similar to the school, kept the water system running so they could clean and drink and hoarded supplies the second they realised the army weren’t coming for them.

this was followed by a tour of the place and then your house. it had been left untouched in the hopes that your parents would come back eventually. dusty pictures of you in school, at college and one he particularly likes of you at christmas, nose scrunched up as you grin into the distance.

maybe he’d snag that one for himself.

it’s only when you bundle him into your room that you really let go. sobbing in his arms on your bed. surrounded by a time capsule of the past. if it felt weird for him, it must be utterly awful for you.

‘i thought they’d be here,’ you choke through tears, ‘they were supposed to be here,’ fingers grabbing at his biceps.

steve’s not known for his quick thinking but he realises there’s not much else he can say. the situation would seem hopeless to most but he wasn’t letting you give up now. not after you’d dragged him thousands of miles to get here.

‘you were at college in indiana, right?’

it’s enough for you to stop crying and look up at him through your wet lashes, ‘yeah.. why?’

you had never really spoken about college. he knew you went to college in indianapolis, that was obvious from the ratty letterman jacket you’d been wearing when he stumbled upon your camp, but that was about it.

‘so we go back to indiana,’ his fingers tangle in your hair, unsure if a smile would be completely inappropriate.

‘steve.. we-,’ you go to object but he can see the cogs turning in your brain, it’s the only sensible suggestion either of you had. ‘you would do that?’

this is where he smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, ‘of course,’ he’s not even sure why it’s even a question.

he’d do anything, traipse after you to the ends of the earth if you asked. hell, he’d do it even if you didn’t.

he continues on, ‘we’re in this together now.. like, forever,’ pressing his forehead to yours, thumb coming to swipe over your sodden cheek.

there’s hope, or at least a tinge of optimism back in your eye, ‘forever?’

steve nods, caressing your dirtied face as if it were precious porcelain, ‘is that alright with you?’

maybe, in a roundabout way, that was him asking you if you’d be his girlfriend. he knows he probably should ask properly but he’s sure you know.

it’s contagious, his smile, your lips curving as you blink slowly, ‘sounds good to me.’

that night, you’re fully relaxed, a kind of placid state that steve hadn’t seen since the school. normally, you’re on high alert even in bed. your muscles stiff as you let him sleep. but this time, he lets you drift off first.

his fingers glide through your now clean hair, eyelids fluttering shut on his chest. he thinks you might even start purring.

instead, your breaths get deeper, and slower until you no longer even murmur in response to whatever he was saying. and eventually, steve drifts off too. relieved that you can both sleep tonight, both feeling a sense of security that hadn’t been there for weeks.

-

steve awakens suddenly at what he determines the middle of the night, your palms clammy as they grab hurriedly onto his chest. you’re panting, desperately trying to steady your breath when his arms tighten around your shoulders.

‘what’s wrong?’ he asks, still in that confusing transition between sleep and awake, his eyes struggle to adjust to the dark room.

you exhale, the outline of your face suddenly begins to form, ‘i had a bad dream, i’m sorry,’ chin pointed upwards. your face is wet, eyes glossy with tears.

‘it’s okay.. it’s okay,’ he soothes, heart still pounding rapidly even after he knows no creatures have mattered down the door and had a chomp on your leg.

you swallow loudly, still gazing up at him when his head rests back on the pillow. ‘i love you,’ you squeak into the quiet night, the third time he’d ever heard it tumble out of your lips.

it mostly went unspoken. coming through in little gestures, feeding him his medicine or scratching your nails into his scalp the nights the pain was too much to sleep. he liked it that way. as if your love was only for the two of you.

this world didn’t deserve to witness that.

[dj-spiderman]

Hello, Just here to make a small request

I'm not sure if you write for Ben Reilly but if you do could we get some platonic mentorship between him and teen reader who sees him as a big brother?

If you do anons could I be 🐉 anon? Have a good day/night man!

THE BETTER BROTHER

- Ben Reilly & Teen!M!reader

- Genre: Platonic fluff (little bit of angst w/ comfort towards the end)

- A/N: You can absolutely be 🐉 anon! Anywho, was gonna make it straight fluff, but I thought it’d be cute to have it so that in reader’s dimension, he was Peter Parker’s brother, but Peter died. And with Ben being a clone of him… y’get me?

“Your pose is off,” Ben corrects your hand placement, giving an approving nod as the two of you stand watch for any anomalies “perfect pose.” He confirms, looking towards you like a proud parent.

“Your pose is off..” You grumble, struggling to maintain the placement of your hands. You managed for near a minute before clambering onto the ground behind.

It was dead silent in the moment. Ben’s head had snapped to look down at you, simply staring. Your eyes locked together before the older boy broke out into laughter.

Your face went red with humiliation and anger, immediately scrambling to your feet and pushing him over the ledge. His laughter cut off with a scream before he managed to web himself back up onto the rooftop they paroled.

“Oh you’re in for it now!” He huffs, tackling onto you. The two of you tumble across the roof, Ben now holding you in a weak, yet firm, chokehold. “Admit defeat!”

“You’re defeat!” You retaliate, squirming around in his grasp.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” He groans, having you smack at his head after freeing an arm.

“Take that!” You grin, squirming a bit more before slipping free. “Haha!” Your cheers of victory soon cut short as he recovered quickly.

Eyes wide, you take off quickly, beginning to hastily swing away. “You can’t run forever!” He calls out, not far behind, getting giddy about the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“I’m not running!” You cockily call back, sticking out your tongue, only to crash onto the side of a building. Comically so, peeling from the wall and down onto the fire escape just below with a heavy thud and groan.

“And yet again! I stand the better brother!” Ben cheers, only to cut himself off after hearing you mumble about.

“Brother…?” Your voice is small and slightly pained, reminiscing on the past.

Your brother, Peter Parker, hadn’t passed long ago. It’s why you took up role of Spider-Man. But that didn’t stop the hole in your heart from growing. As though that sibling bond was missing.

But Ben.. Ben made it easy to move forward. He mended that spot to fit right in. And now, now he was actively taking the role of your older brother? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah.. yeah okay, you’re the better brother.” You reply, a small smile playing at your lips as you stared up at the older boy. “But I’ll beat you next time.”

“Oh you’re on!” He challenges, already getting a head start as he began to swing off.

And you weren’t far behind, happily laughing and taunting him. It was the happiest you had been in a while. Ben really was the best brother.

[cocosstories]

Tom Holland One Shot

Going to your secondary school reunion with your husband Tom Holland, two kids and baby number 3 in the oven

"Love, have you seen my blue silk tie?"

You were in your three year old daughters bedroom getting her dressed for your ten year reunion when your husband Tom called out.

"I think Y/S/N had it."

You replied, remembering seeing your five year old son walking around with the tie on earlier.

"Mama, do I look pretty?"

Y/D/N asks once you put on her shoes.

"You look absolutely beautiful, princess."

You tell her, kissing her little cheek before trying to pull yourself back up to your feet.

"Here darling, let me help you."

Tom walks in and sees you struggling to get up.

You were currently nearly nine months pregnant with your third baby and moving was not an easy thing in your current state.

"Thank you."

You smile rubbing your belly once you are back on your feet.

"Did you find your tie?"

Tom nods showing you as he puts it on.

"Is Y/S/N ready?"

You ask, knowing you were already running late to the event.

"Nearly. He is getting his shoes on now."

You nod, grabbing your daughters hand and taking her downstairs, Tom following behind.

"Do we really have to go?"

You groan, looking at yourself in the mirror again, really wishing you were back in your sweats and watching TV in bed.

"Yes, we have to go but I promise if it gets to be too much, I will pinch you and you can fake labor pains. No one would try to stop us from leaving if they think the baby is coming."

You shake your head at your husband's joke, laughing as your son and daughter walk up.

Nearly half an hour later, you, Tom and your children make you way into the reunion, your kids running off towards a group of other children who were gathered in one corner of the room playing.

"Y/N? Hi!"

You look up at the sound of your name to find one of your old school friends making her way over to you.

"Hi! How are you?"

You ask her after she hugs you.

"I'm great. This is my husband."

She introduces you to the man who walked up with her.

"This is my husband, Tom and our kids are somewhere over there."

You laugh, pointing to the sea of children on the other side of the room.

"Well, you look great. When are you due?"

She says, placing a hand on your rounded belly.

"Four weeks actually."

You reply a bit uncomfortable with the intrusion to your person space.

"Darling, is that Y/D/N I hear?"

Tom cuts into the conversation, coming to your rescue right on time.

"You know what? I think it is. I'm sorry, I can hear my daughter crying."

You give a quick explanation and walk off towards your children.

"Thank you."

You say as Tom finds an empty table and the two of you sit down.

A couple of hours and about a million people touching your belly later, you and Tom have gotten in a rythm, dealing with your former classmates.

Once you give him the signal, he swoops in with a reason to pull you away.

You take him around, showing him all the different memory boards that had been set up around for everyone to reminisce the past.

"How are you feeling my love?"

Tom asks, after he had shooed off the last people.

"Tired, fat and cranky."

You say, giving him a small smile.

"You want to go home?"

Nodding eagerly, Tom leaves you at the table to grab the children.

"Mama, are we going home?"

Y/D/N asks when she walks up with her father.

"Oh no! You aren't leaving are you?"

Before you can answer your daughter, another old friend walks up.

"Yeah, the kids are tired and my back is killing me."

You reply hoping they will take the excuse and not fight you.

"You can't leave yet! We haven't even done the speeches."

You sigh and look at Tom for help.

"Ouch!"

A sudden pain hits you as your son sneaks behind you and pinches your side.

"Mama are you ok?"

He asks, looking adorably innocent.

"Is it the baby darling?"

Tom asks, catching on to what your sons plan had been.

"I think it may be. I'm sorry but we really have to go."

Your classmate nods and the four of you make your way back to the car.

"Y/S/N, how did you come up with that idea?"

You ask him once you were all in the car, headed home.

"Daddy told you earlier that if you needed a quick get away he would pinch you so you could pretend the baby was coming."

You and Tom look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Yup, he is definitely your son!"

You say as Tom takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

"Is that such a bad thing, love?"

He asks with a chuckle.

"Not at all. I love that he is a mini version of you."

You admit.

As Tom pulls onto your street, you smile to yourself, thinking it was fun to go back in time for a night but happy to finally be back in the present with your husband, two kids and soon to be new baby. 

[peeterparkr]

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

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[hes-writer]

drivers’ license

Summary: harry teaches y/n how to drive

Warnings: angst, a little bit of fluff

Word Count: 1805 words

A/N: the ‘blonde girl’ has no face claim.

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MASTERLIST

_____

There were many milestones that Y/N strived to remember; things that she wanted to embed in her memory because each fleeting moment was a few seconds away from being lost.  She was afraid that in a blink of an eye; everything would disappear, that she wouldn’t even remember what had been forgotten.

But she would never forget him. Harry. The best friend who taught her how to drive with the utmost patience, calm correction of her mistakes and gentle voice to ease her worry as soon as the shift went from ‘P’ to ‘D’.  He was there with precise instruction, detailing each rule and advice that would help her acquire her drivers’ license.  He was tolerant of her constant ability to doubt herself, always assuring Y/N that she could do it.

It was silly why Y/N was scared of driving.  It was because it felt so grown up, so adult-like and it bought a sense of responsibility.  It meant fully committing to adulthood.  There was a shift that everything was changing.  And by that, she meant everything.

.

.

.

It seemed like a distant memory now.

Y/N took the leap of faith to start learning how to drive, trusting him to teach her the ways. Harry was her light in a dark day.  His smile was bright enough for her to admit that through the haze of her nervousness; it wasn’t just caused by her fear of handling and operating a vehicle.

It also had to do with the way Y/N’s stomach fluttered with butterflies when she had parked in an empty lot, Harry sitting on the passenger’s seat as they talked to each other about anything and everything their minds could conjure up at that very moment. No filter.

How Harry enthusiastically shared his excitement about Y/N’s newfound ability to drive to and fro from her apartment to his place.  They would be able to go on drives on the coast with nostalgic songs blasting on the radio, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs where no one would hear them.  The wind sifting through his hair to which she commented on maybe getting it snipped; it was why Harry opted to not trust Y/N with scissors anymore after a close-call with the sharp tool.  She didn’t know why he had decided to trust her with it in the first place--she was a clumsy one.

Yet Harry continued to spend each and every second of his free time with her, even when he was booked to the hilt with mandatory meetings and unplanned fan encounters, Y/N stood by his side as an unofficial photographer.  The dopey grin on her face must’ve been permanent every time that she was around him.  Sometimes she looked through the screen of the phone and wondered just how much she would break if Harry wasn’t around in her life and all she had to remember him by was the captured portrait of his kind aura leaking through the device; almost as if he was there right beside her because Y/N seemed to label her best memories with him around.

Harry was it for her.  Even if her feelings were not mutual, Y/N would take being his closest friend over being a stranger because at least she was near him.  Luckily, Harry returned her affection.  Though, it was humiliating to vouch for a relationship that would have to go through troughs and trenches in order to be rendered successful.  It seemed impossible with her stoic life compared to his fast-paced, always moving, always travelling situation.

Y/N was willing to work for it.  If she were to make a list of things she wanted most, it would be the unconditional love from the one that meant the most to her.  Harry was exactly what she wanted--what she needed.  Y/N didn’t know what she did in her past life or even now that caused the universe to gift her with a presence as charming and graceful as his but she would do it every day if it meant coming home to his warm embrace.

But Harry wasn’t so keen on commitment.  There was no denying that his thorough discourse of relationships hindered his ability to fully trust any future partners and Y/N understood that.  The distance gets to peoples’ heads, even his, admittedly.  Loneliness seeps through his fingers, directing his body to strangely familiar bodies. Ones whom he was not currently committed to. Wandering hands.

Despite that, Y/N knew that Harry was a good person.  Some may call her a fool for giving him a chance but he truly was a genuine guy.  She had seen it when he was coddled up, blankets bunched all the way to his chin, only showcasing his angelic face.  The crease of his brows free from any worries.  He was simply him.  She had seen him when he was the most vulnerable.

Harry was a romantic person.  He loved to love.  He adored the concept of having someone behind him, beside him and in front of him at all times to catch him when he fell, to support him in any new journeys and to lead him when he was lost.  Y/N could understand his shortcomings, aiming to better the other person instead of putting them down.  She wanted a dialogic approach instead of having a conversation where all she pointed out was his bad qualities.

What she couldn’t comprehend was how easily he had lied to her.

She wasn’t asking for much; Y/N promised to wait for him until he was ready. Until his previous baggage was deemed easy enough to carry, or at least when Harry was able to talk about it without anointing skepticism to his actions.  Though, Harry had blatantly disregarded her purity to be patient towards him.  Basically, he had told her that he was not ready for a relationship yet here he was now, holding hands with another girl.  The blonde woman had caused insecurities to sprout from deep within her since Harry kept citing her age and maturity, adding that she was ‘different’ from the rest as if he hadn’t mentioned it previously.

.

.

.

Y/N would ask herself from time to time; when a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?

She compared it to the times’ Harry’s voice cracked in the middle of singing songs that embedded itself in her memory and the way his ears tinted a blush pink even under the night sky after Y/N quickly gave a glance in his direction.  She reminisced about the times when he would explain any ideas he had about new songs, thoroughly immersing not only himself but her as well, in his art.  He would sometimes stop midway as if lost in thought when really he was just mesmerized by the slope of her nose and the pucker of her lips.

He was so passionate.  So indulged and fervent in making sure everything he did was one-hundred percent, authentically him.  Harry spoke with grit when he was overly zealous and he tended with a soft voice when he felt vulnerable.

It was glaringly loud; Y/N could hear him everywhere she went.  But now that he was gone—out of reach—did those conversations ever really happen?  Was she even present when Harry shyly played a song he had been working on for her, singing stripped with just his raspy voice, serenading her with a tune describing how much gratitude he felt that she was present in his life.  He appreciated her so much for accepting him even when the world criticized his every action. For being there when he seemingly felt lonely.

.

.

.

Life itself was funny to her.

Sometimes Y/N wondered how she could let herself be vulnerable with somebody else other than herself.  It was plastered everywhere—love never lasts.  Relationships come and go, people leave and never return, friends, drift apart and detaching from oneself was even possible.  It was practically the motto of anyone searching for love—looking for a sense of comfort and belonging, yet she was practically crushed by the overwhelming reality that it may never happen.

She hated the way her heart longed for him to be near as if when he was too far away it ached in pain.  Y/N disliked the feeling of being out of place because where she truly belonged was in his arms.  Harry’s nose nuzzled at the top of her head, inhaling her scent as though it was the last time he would hold her—for a while at least.

And it really was because the next day he had left to catch a flight a mere continent away.

____

The night before was special to Y/N. Harry left with a promise of ‘forever’ and that he would return straight to her after his tour ends.  It was a dainty promise but Y/N chose to believe him because it was Harry and he never strayed from his words.

He promised to return and Y/N had sworn to wait for him. They both agreed, after admitting their feelings the night before he left, that a long-distance relationship was not how either of them wanted to begin.  Although their friendship had lasted years prior to finding out the bubbling flame between them, crossing the line as seamlessly as possible was the gateway to a healthy relationship.

Y/N could hardly wait for his return now that she was driving alone to where she needed to be.  Harry was always at the back of her mind no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.  He was attached to the episodic memory of Y/N successfully learning how to drive; that was something she couldn’t really forget.

.

.

.

Y/N unlocked the car doors, breathing deeply as soon as she was situated on the driver’s seat. The beeping of the car ringing in her ears until she was reminded to close the car door shut.

She blinked her lids tightly, feeling salty tears pooling at her waterline.  It was a sad excuse of trying to not start sobbing right then and there but she was successful.

Starting the engine, Y/N sniffled as she adjusted her mirror, making sure that she could see through them before driving off. As she focused her eyes on the road, Harry’s voice repeated in her head.

She didn’t know where she was going. Y /N didn’t really have a destination to arrive to because her brain was filled with images of Harry and her.  Kissing, hugging, looking at each other as if nobody else in the mattered; not even Y/N.

And it hurt a lot because she kept her promise of waiting for him to return but it seemed like he had no trouble filling the hole in his heart, unlike her.

He moved on.

_____

[blazedbakugou]

selfish

In which Bakugou finally gives in to his heart’s desires despite his brain’s protests and allows himself to be selfish just this once.

a/n: this is the part two of my Bakugou fic I posted a while back. Though reading the first one will provide more context, this fic can also be read alone.

read part one here!

read part three here!

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

warnings: angst but there’s a happy ending, aged up characters

word count: 2.4k

pairing(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (romantic)

selfish - PnB Rock

Bakugou looked out the car window as he watched trees, buildings, and streetlights disappear from view. The car ride back home from Kirishima’s was a quiet one, perfect for contemplation and revelations. He was so deep in thought that he had failed to notice that this wasn’t the route to his apartment but instead it was on the way to yours.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, where are you taking me? My place is that way,” he pointed his thumb in the opposite direction.

Kirishima glanced over at him before focusing on the road ahead, “well, I just thought that you two needed to sort things out… so I’m taking you to their place.”

“Yeah? Well, what makes you think I wanna talk to that dumbass?” Bakugou grunted.

Except, that wasn’t what he was worried about. He knew that he’d royally fucked up at the party from the week before, and the guilt had been eating away at him since. Bakugou was aware that you had every right to be upset with him and he wouldn’t be too surprised if you didn’t want to speak to him after your fallout. He just hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“Don’t gotta lie to me, Bakubro. That wouldn’t be very manly of you, besides I’m tired of seeing you look so miserable.”

Your apartment complex came into view as Kirishima turned a corner, entering the parking lot.

“Tch, if this goes wrong then I just want you to remember that it was your idea to take me here.” The blonde scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

- - -

Bakugou wiped his hands against the material of his pants, drying off the sweat that had collected on his walk to your front door. He went over everything he wanted to say in his head before taking a deep breath and knocking on the wooden door. The voice in his head nagged at him louder than ever to turn around and never look back, he could get away in time if he ran, he thought. With each passing second, the voice grew louder and louder until the idea sounded nearly too tempting to pass up. Of course, before he could walk away and flee the scene, you answered the door.

“What do you want, Bakugou?”

He glanced up to look at you, grimacing at the coldness in your voice and how could he ignore the way you’d called him by his last name? Though his mind was soon filled with other concerns, like how exhausted you looked and sounded.

“Just wanted to talk…” his voice came out uncharacteristically timid as if he was afraid you’d slam the door in his face any second now.

You scoffed bitterly, “oh really? Now you want to talk? Thought you were too busy?”

“Look, I know I fucked up. Trust me, I know. So can we just go inside so we can talk?” Bakugou awkwardly shifted back and forth on his feet, hands shoved into his pockets while his gaze remained on you.

A brief silence filled the air between you two as he waited for your response, nervously chewing on his bottom lip in the meantime. You sighed before silently pushing the door open and stepping aside, warily letting him in once again. Shutting the door behind him, you motioned for him to head towards the couch.

“Just… wait here,” you said before disappearing into your room.

The blonde felt out of place as he stood in your living room, decorated with picture frames on the walls. He hadn’t been in your apartment in a long time, probably not since your housewarming party that you threw shortly after graduating from UA. The place didn’t look that much different from what he remembered, you still had the same rug, though it had a few stains now and the scent of the caramel apple scented candles you loved still lingered in the air.

After a few moments of standing in place awkwardly, he hesitantly walked towards the chimney to further inspect a picture that had caught his attention. It was a photo of you and him back when you still attended UA, the very same photo he’d kept in his wallet all these years. Hesitantly picking up the picture frame, he felt himself relax a bit as he reminisced all the good memories he shared with you.

“Miss those days?”

Your voice spooked him enough to clumsily place the picture frame back to where it belonged. Unsure what to say, Bakugou remained silent though his eyes spoke for him. God, he missed those times dearly.

“Yeah,” you sighed before walking into the living room, “I do too. Everything was a lot less confusing back then.”

Still, at a loss for words, Bakugou followed you like a lost puppy to the couch before tentatively sitting down. He felt like an idiot for not being able to use his words and get this over with, but it was your presence that turned him into a speechless fool.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? Or are you going to finally tell me what the fuck is going on?” You rolled your eyes at him from the opposite end of the sofa.

“Uh, yeah I just- I don’t know what to say.” He admitted bashfully.

“You’re joking, right? You don’t know what to say? Why are you even here?”

“No- that’s not what I meant. Obviously, I came here to get some things off my chest. I’m just not very good at this sort of thing and...” his voice trailed off into nothing but silence.

“Spit it out already, for fucks sake. I’m tired of waiting, Bakugou.” Your harshness stung but he knew he deserved it.

“Listen, I came to say that… I’m sorry. Okay? I know that I’ve been an asshole and probably caused you a few headaches,” he noticed your scoff before continuing, “I was dealing with some personal issues and took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“What personal issues were you dealing with that could’ve warranted you treating me like shit? What could’ve been so bad that you shoved aside all our years of friendship and pretended like I didn’t even fucking exist, huh?”

Up until this point, you’d done a decent job at keeping your feelings bottled up. Years of doubt, pain, and confusion were all kept under wraps until now.

“Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost staying up wondering what I did wrong and why you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore? Do you have any clue how much it hurt when I realized that my supposed best friend didn’t want to talk to me anymore?”

There was a certain rawness behind your words, a glimpse at your emotions that showed how hurt you truly were. Bakugou could tell that you were upset, and rightfully so. He knew he needed to hurry up and get his point across before it was too late, and yet he remained frozen in place. Mind racing at a million miles per hour, heart seemingly beating accordingly. At one point, your words had stopped registering in his head, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat.

“Oh, my god! Are you even listening?” You exclaimed exasperatedly.

Bakugou blinked a few times before replying, “yes! I’m listening, I just- there’s a lot on my mind and it’s- it’s a lot.”

You stared at him expectantly, waiting for a response to the rant you’d just dumped on him. It was hard to look at him for longer than a few seconds, and if you looked for a moment longer, you feared that you’d give in and forgive him. But you needed to stay strong and stand your ground, you couldn’t keep putting up with his shit forever and pretend like it was okay. You deserved better.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he sighed.

“Well, you did.”

His eyes flashed a look of guilt before he averted his gaze to his lap, “I know I did, and I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for things to get this bad, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Okay… but I still want an explanation as to why you suddenly decided to change your attitude towards me.”

“I know! I’m getting there, damn it. This isn’t easy for me, you know. I’m trying my best so just… be patient with me.” He frowned.

“Can I… can I try something? Do you trust me?” Your expression softened, body turning towards him.

“Tch. I guess so.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Then I want you to come here and rest your head on my lap, like the old days. Remember?” You offered him a slight smile as you patted your thighs.

A confused expression fell upon Bakugou’s face as he stared back at you. It took him a moment before he slowly let his guard down just enough to do as you said, hesitantly resting his head on your lap. You smiled down at him before gently rubbing circles on his temples, something you did back in UA whenever he strained himself too much during training. A noticeable silence filled the room as he felt himself melting into your embrace, something he had missed dearly.

“Now, go ahead and talk to me. I’m listening.”

Bakugou nodded before taking a deep breath, “you’re too kind for your own good, you know. I don’t deserve this, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you, not after everything I’ve done.”

“Ssh, just keep talking.”

“But it’s the truth…” he sighed, “you want to know why I’ve been so distant?”

You hummed.

The blonde shut his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts, “it’s ‘cause I was doing you a favor— or at least I thought I was. I thought that by leaving you in the past, with my memories of UA, that I’d be able to make things easier on the both of us. Apparently, that wasn’t the case because here we are, three years later back to square one.”

“Why would you think that would be such a good idea?”

“Because… all my life I’ve been this selfish bastard who destroyed everything in his path to get to the top. I’ve done fucked up shit that caused so much pain, so much destruction and if I could take it all back then trust me, I would. Eventually, I got tired of being the bad guy, so I decided that it would be best if I just left you alone.”

Your hands ceased momentarily, “So let me get this straight. You thought that you’d be doing me a favor by ghosting me with no warning? Didn’t you ever stop to consider just how hard it would be for me to lose my best friend?”

“You think it’s been any easier on me?” He scoffed.

“I feel like there’s still more you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah… I guess there’s no more avoiding it now, is there?”

“Nope.”

A sigh slipped past the blonde’s lips, “Figured. Listen here dumbass ‘cause I’m only saying this once. I didn’t exactly plan on falling for my best friend, but I did. It scared the hell out of me at first, just ask Shitty Hair. It still scares me if I’m completely honest.”

“How long? Since you realized that you had feelings for me?” You questioned.

“Far too long.”

Truthfully, Bakugou couldn’t have given you an accurate response even if he wanted to. He had no idea when these feelings had started to develop, all he knew was that one day you smiled at him and he felt his heart race like never before.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Be happy that I even told you because I was already set on taking these feelings with me to the grave.”

“Is it really so bad that you like me?” You frowned.

Part of you knew that Bakugou was never the best at putting things nicely and usually it didn’t bother you. Not after years of growing accustomed to his blunt honesty. But that didn’t mean that his words didn’t sting just a tiny bit. Sure, you were happy that you’d gotten your answer but perhaps you’d be happier if he didn’t seem so bothered by the fact that he had feelings for you.

“You need to stop doing that. Stop talking about yourself like you’re just another damn extra. All my life, I’ve looked down on others. Never thought anyone would ever be as great as me. Yet, here you are and now I realize that I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you.”

Bakugou let out a frustrated sigh before sitting up and distancing himself from you, “So maybe it is bad that I like you as much as I do. ‘Cause, you deserve to be with someone perfect for you and I am far from that… Except, I don’t want to let you go. I’m fuckin’ selfish and I want to keep you all to myself. It’s fucked up, I know, but it’s the truth.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, too busy processing all the information that had been dumped on you. It was a lot, but not necessarily in a bad way. There’d always been a glimmer of hope in the back of your mind that he felt the same way but you never expected him to ever admit it. Now that everything was out in the open, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. Katsuki Bakugou, your best friend whom you’d been secretly harboring feelings for had finally admitted that those feelings were mutual.

“I’m the idiot that fell in love with their best friend...” the blonde mumbled, low enough that you’d nearly missed it.

If he had said anything else before that sentence then you hadn’t heard it, you found it hard to focus on his words when all you could think about was kissing him. Ignoring the nerves racing through your body, you took a leap of faith and gently shoved him down onto the sofa, leaning in for a kiss. Bakugou’s face heated up almost instantly with the blush spread across his face as evidence, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head.

You smiled against his lips, “Well, then I guess that makes two of us.”

masterlist // taglist open // requests open

@combat-wombatus @sunflowersuki @blacpiink

[ficforce]

Pushing It

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader

SFW

No set timeline

Established relationship

Benimaru was known to look mostly uninterested and a little annoyed the majority of the time. The people of Asakusa tended to ignore the mood he seemed to be in as they were fully aware it was just the way his face rested; they knew he was harmless unless provoked and they knew he was soft on his town.

Sometimes though, his face reflected his mood, it was a subtle difference but people who knew him could read it - especially when the temperature around him was higher and his body language said ‘stay away’. As the young man passed by the daifuku stall the owner didn’t dare give him her usual gift, the owner of the stall beside hers watched her sigh, “What’s gotten Beni-chan so upset?”

“He got into a fight with Y/N first thing.” The other replied as he picked up a treat and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully and then swallowing, “They were sparring and he sent her into a wall. Then they exchanged some words and she ran off after kneeing him in the gut.”

“They’re both so stubborn!” She tutted, “They’ll make up by tonight… they always do.”

A small crowd of sellers met in the middle and they all began to gossip about the couple, laying down bets and laughing at other fights the two had had in the past. It was harmless banter for them, not one person there wishing for Benimaru and Y/N to fight but they did enjoy reminiscing over young love.

By the lunchtime rush, it was old news.

Benimaru spent the majority the time sulking on the gentan of the guardhouse, waiting for Y/N to come back so that she could forgive him without him having to apologise. He glared at everyone who entered and asked them where Y/N was. She had her own duties as a Hikeshi, half the jobs he had given her himself; yet it still frustrated him she was out.

Konro stepped inside, a small smile crossing his lips as he saw the glowering Captain, and he held out a box of dango, “Y/N is out of town, remember?” Benimaru took the food without taking his eyes off of the entrance, “Waka.”

“Yeah, yeah she’s out.”

Konro sat beside him and started removing his boots, “Are you feeling guilty?” It was sometimes hard to get Benimaru to admit what he was feeling without getting him angry, “You were a little rough with her…” receiving no reply her took a piece of dango and ate it slowly, letting his words permeate for a second, “She was hurting, Waka.”

He clicked his tongue and mismatched eyes shifted to his second in command, “You think one of those White Clad bastards are gonna go easy on her?” His hand carded through his hair with a frustrated huff, “If she can’t put the work in-”

His eyes widened a little as his collar was snatched and Konro pulled him up slightly, “Oi, She’s working hard, Beni.” Benimaru resisted rolling his eyes, Konro’s lowered tone and slip of the Captain’s name told him he’d be in for a lecture if he answered back; though the disappointed look was enough to make him regret complaining. “She hasn’t been fighting as long as you, she’s not as physically strong but she still gives you a reason to be on your guard. You keep complaining at her and telling her to do better.”

“I’m trying to protect her.” Konro let go of Benimaru’s collar and the younger man grumbled as he fixed his clothing, “Tell her the truth. Tell her she’s doing well and that you’re impressed.”

Benimaru shoved the food in his mouth so that he didn’t have to answer right away, “She can’t take a compliment, she’ll try to stab me with her chopsticks again…”

“She gets embarrassed - what did you say to her last night the had you two running through the Guardhouse?” He had heard them chasing each other and giggling like kids.

A ghost of a smirk appeared and disappeared just as quickly, “I told her she looked pretty and she hit me with her pillow.”

Konro smiled fondly - they had always been a playful couple, even before they got together. Their little back and forth was cute… until one of them pushed it too far and they fought. “Just remember how hard you used to try and how mad you got when the Master told you to do better. Carrot and stick; it’s time to spare the stick.”

“…Your advice is always cryptic as fuck!”

x - -

Y/N was greeted at the gate by Hikage and Hinata, the girls excited to see her and chatting the entire way to the bathhouse located a short distance from the Guardhouse. She adored the girls and her heart warmed to know they had waited for her to get back, even if it was just a quick catch up before sending them home.

It had been a hard day, the argument with Benimaru, the visit to the doctor and then the errands she had to run in the city to keep certain supplies coming into Asakusa. Y/N unwrapped the bandage around her ribs so that she could shower and enjoy a long soak in the bath. It was hours after dinner, which meant the baths were empty and the owner trusted her to lock up after she was done.

The woman sunk into the water with a soft groan.

Since the attack on Asakusa a few months before and the appearance of a demon Benimaru had been on her. He trained her longer and hit her harder - over and over until she was barely able to stand.

Pushing and pushing.

It was for her own good. It was so that she could protect herself better but sometimes she felt like he forgot she was his girlfriend. She had thought she had him that morning, her strategy giving her the advantage until he snuck in with a hard palm strike that sent her flying and fractured her rib. It had been painful but she hadn’t wanted him to see because he would be disappointed, he would have thought she was weak and all her hard work would go to waste.

He kept telling her to try harder.

The steam from the bath made her face damp, making it easy to ignore the frustrated tears that escaped her eyes. She was trying so hard…

“Shut up.”

“What did I tell you about bathing alone?”

Hearing his voice she let out an annoyed sound, “In case creeps sneak into the women’s baths? Get lost, Waka.”

“Waka…” She was upset at him, wasn’t she. He didn’t have a scrap of clothing on as he walked brazenly toward the bath and entered the water opposite her, “You can handle a creep who sneaks in, fainting from the heat and exhaustion then drowning is trickier on your own.” Benimaru sat down on the inner ledge, the water lapping at his upper chest, “How’s your side?”

Y/N frowned at him, “You fractured my rib.” She blinked in surprise as his gaze lifted sharply and he moved across the bath to her side, his hands held her shoulder and waist to make her stand. The bruise on her skin was obvious to him, it was much darker now that the water had drawn it out.

“I thought you could handle it… we’ve been more evenly matched lately.” He heard her scoff and looked at her face; reaching up to brush the tear tracks on her cheeks. “You’re going to kick my ass one of these days.”

Y/N murmured for him to shut up as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his hips and pressing her cheek to his shoulder when he returned her hold. “You’re lying.”

“I thought you wanted more carrots…” Her head moved and he glanced down to see her eyebrows drawn together in confusion, “Konro said… I don’t know what he meant”

He’d spoken to Konro?

“It’s an old saying; Carrot and stick… a donkey will be more willing to work if you offer it a carrot rather than hit it with a stick.” It was sweet that he had spoken to Konro before coming to apologise but sometimes he really was a clueless idiot, “Are you saying I’m a donkey?”

“Just take the damn compliment, Y/N.”

“Being a donkey isn’t a compliment.” Warm water hit her face when he splashed her.

He stepped out of her reach when she tried to splash him back, “Just believe me when I say I’m proud of you,” Benimaru clicked his tongue, “You’re so difficult.”

“See.”

Y/N wasn’t great at taking praise, she didn’t like people seeing her get flustered, she didn’t like the smug look on his face when he saw how happy something he had said made her. They fought a lot, they argued and didn’t seem to get along to strangers but they fit well together. The truth was that they loved each other and they hated to be apart. “I keep pushing you because I love you and I need to know you can handle yourself. I need to know I can fight my fights and you’ll be there when the smoke clears… that you’re no gonna get hurt by some cult freak.” He let her back into his arms once he was sure she would behave, “Be mad at me, hate me if you want but don’t you ever die.”

She could never hate him, “As if I would leave your useless ass all alone.”

[trentaafcsblog]

Writing Challenge - Angst

“Please say something” - Leon Goretzka

Thank you to the beautiful @penguintransporter for this one 🤍

The corridor of the familiar Gründerzeit residential building seemed to be darker than it used to be; longer and wider, and yet, it was the same as when she had left it, thinking that it would be the last time that she was walking the black-and-white, tiled floor.

There was still the same dried out monstera plant in the corner, the same advertisements on the cork-board, same basket for the wet umbrellas that no one really used, and the same line-up of the vintage lamps mounted on the wall – illuminating the darkness which seemed to be present even in the middle of the sunniest days.

Emelie had to take a deep breath, exhaling softly.

To say that it didn’t feel strange to be there again, after seven months, would be a lie, and as she made her way towards the winding stairway that would take her to the fourth floor, she felt a wave of melancholy wash over her. Everything was the same, and yet it felt so different – walking down the corridor without stopping to check their mailbox, holding onto the railing, yet feeling detached from it as if she wasn’t really present; seeing only his name written on a silver plate on the doors.

She didn’t belong there any more.

Her hand was shaking as she knocked on the doors, and taking an insecure step back, she breathed out a slight and nervous breath she was holding in. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to Leon since she had moved out, wheeling the last bits of her belongings in a small suitcase while he was still at the training, proudly keeping her tears away – a flower pot with devil’s ivy pressed against her chest.

Seven months of denial, fake smiles, and crying when no one could see her.

Seven months of telling herself that she will be okay, that she needed to accept that he wasn’t part of her life any more, and that she had to move on and try to forget.

As if that was an easy thing to do.

Emelie’s heartbeat quickened when she heard the familiar sound of the locks being twisted, and when he finally opened the doors, she felt as if there was no air left in her lungs—just painful scratches while she tried to stay composed.

“Hi, Emelie,” he greeted her, giving her a small tight-lipped smile, and she waved shyly, as if they were just some random strangers, and not two people who have spent more than five years sharing the ups and downs, laughter and tears, sorrow and happiness.

“How have you been?” Emelie asked, trying to keep her voice steady, but under Leon’s gaze, she felt like she was about to crumble any second. “Sorry, I am a bit late, you know – the traffic…as usual,” she trailed off nervously as if she needed to explain herself for being late.

“Don’t worry,” Leon nodded before leaning against the door frame casually, sticking both of his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’ve been good. Yourself?”

“Same,” she smiled weakly, but his face expression didn’t change, as if he knew she was lying; as if he didn’t care. “I’ve been good, too.”

She wasn’t.

Emelie missed him, more than she dared to admit out loud, and no amount of overcrowded clubs every other weekend, new haircuts, and listening to her friends and family badmouth him—none of it helped. If anything it made her only feel miserable, lonely and reminiscent of what she once had with Leon.

They were each other’s worlds, centers of gravity – pulling one another, reading each other’s mind, and Emelie knew that what she had with him will stick to her for as long as she's breathing. Impossible to erase — a part of her body; a vital organ that kept her alive.

“Do you want to come in? We don’t have to talk at the doors,” Leon suddenly asked, pushing himself away from the door frame with ease, “it’s a bit weird, no?”

Emelie didn’t know what to say, so she only shrugged in response. She knew that it was a bad idea to follow him, and yet, when he stepped aside, her legs carried her inside as if she had no power over them, and before she knew it, Leon was closing the doors behind her, trapping her in the hallway of the place she once used to call home.

It still smelled the same - airy and clean. The walls were still white, and the side-table was still littered with envelopes, magazines, and random leaflets of his favourite take-away restaurants. His raincoat still hung where it used to, and his sports bag was on the ground, haphazardly discarded, as many times before.

The only thing that was missing was a framed photograph that used to hang on the wall – the two of them on their first hiking trip together all those years ago – all smiles and slightly sunburnt under the Pyrenees’ sun. Emelie felt her eyes brimming with tears as she stared at the discoloured spot on the wall – a simple square of shadow, silently narrating their story – a story of something that used to be, but it's not anymore.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, looking away from the wall – words rolling off of her tongue on their own accord—unstructured and unplanned. 

“For what?” he asked, picking up the box that was on the floor behind him. “For the package? It’s okay. I don’t blame your aunt for sending you a present to this address. It was probably a force of a habit. Stuff like this happens.”

Emelie forced herself to nod – her emotions boiling inside of her. 

She wasn’t sorry for the present that was delivered nto the wrong address – far from it. Emelie was sorry for everything she had done, had said, and how she acted in the past; all the times she was overprotective, jealous and overbearing. She was sorry for all the matches she had missed because she was selfishly needing time for herself, she was sorry for letting go of what they had; for not fighting harder.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she finally managed to say, taking the box out of his hands before holding it to her chest, and hooking her finger around the cord that held it together.

There was a brief moment of silence as Leon looked down at his watch before glancing at her. “Well…,” he started, running a hand through his hair, and Emelie could remember how his locks felt under her own fingertips—soft like a feather; comforting.

“Leon—,” she started before stopping to take a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

Now or never.

“I will probably regret this later, but I’m—I feel like I need to…” Emelie began, surprising herself with her own courage as she hugged the box tighter. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but in that moment, it weighed like a tonne. “I lied when I said that I am feeling good, because I am not,” she stopped for a second, sucking in a deep breath—her chest feeling like if it was on fire, “—I’m aware that the last year of our relationship wasn't something to be proud of, we misunderstood each other, and we said some really awful things we never should have said, but, Leon…” Emelie felt the tears prickling her eyes yet again as she glanced back at the square shadow on the wall, “Leon, I miss you. I miss what—“

“—Emelie,” he interrupted her, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he took a step back, but she couldn’t think straight. 

Her brain was racing, her heart was breaking all over again, and she needed to get rid of the heaviness that was pressing on her chest.

“Please…,” she whispered, glancing down at her shoes – the uneven wrinkles on the sides of her red Vans greeting her, “—do you think we can give it another try? We fought before and we always...”

Emelie bit down at her lip, not able to continue her thoughts. 

“Emmie,” he finally whispered, still avoiding to look at her, and her heart soared at the sound of the nickname he had for her. No one else called her Emmie. No one, but him. “Don’t ask me that…why are you doing this?”

“I think if we only sat down—talked the things through, no?” Her words were leaving her mouth quickly and desperately – running free after being trapped for too long. “I'm doing this because I still love you.”

There it goes. Four little words to break her all over again.

“Emelie,” Leon sighed quietly - both of his hands cradling his face.

They stood in silence, and below the surface of the pain she felt, Emelie was falling deeper and deeper into abyss of regret. Each second felt like an eternity; each intake of a breath unnerving and more painful than the previous one. She was watching him – his jaw clenching as he looked everywhere but her.

“Please, can you just say something?" Emelie asked in a small and timid voice, "Leon, it’s me, please—”

“—What do you want me to say, Emelie? I didn’t expect any of this—” His voice was louder than before, and it made her take a step back, and not because she was scared, but because she realised what she had done. “I miss us too sometimes, but I—,” he looked down at his own sock-clad feet. “I’ve been moving on Emelie. It's been seven months.”

“Oh—,”

“—I am seeing someone else.”

Emelie didn’t say anything, fighting back the tears as she took another small step backwards – her hands feeling sweaty as she brought the box closer to the chest. Leon was watching her – his face full of concern and a mixture of realisation, but she just smiled at him – brave as big girls do before turning around, putting her hand around the door handle; lingering for a second.

“I am happy for you,” she whispered, "I'm happy you're able to move on."

“I’m sorry, Emmie."

“Don’t be.”

Emelie felt nothing, and yet she felt thousands different emotions as she made her way downstairs. Like a ghost, she floated in the sea of the memories – tears trapped on the surface of her eyes. Pushing the heavy doors open, she exited in the sunny afternoon before looking up at the big window on the fourth floor, only to find him watching her – arms resting against the window sill.

With a small wave, she smiled up at him – one of the smiles that only a heartbroken people knew how to paint on their faces, and crossing the road, she turned her back to the past she once thought was her future.

“You wear your heartbreak like your body is a world at war; and every time a soldier dies within it he whispers one last word, and always, it is your name.” - N.G

This imagine is in collaboration with CoppaFeel! 💗 please feel free to follow the link if you would like to donate, but as always, there is no obligation 🦋 if you have the time, then please have a little look at their website and check out the amazing work that they do 🤍 they also have a free text reminder service where you can receive a monthly reminder to check your boobs, as this is something that is often forgotten about 🍒 a lot of celebrities are also ambassadors for CoppaFeel! - Perrie Edwards, Giovanna Fletcher, Frankie Bridge - so keep your eyes peeled on their social media accounts for any campaigns or fundraising events that may be coming up (they trekked through the Himalayas in 2019 and raised over £1 million!) x

[notnctu]

to jaehyun, my first love ♡

To All The J’s I’ve Loved Before Series by notnctu ♡ jung jaehyun x fem!reader ♡ genre - fluff, slight angst ♡ wc - 2.1k ♡ warnings - explicit language ♡ synopsis - in which Mark accidentally sets you up on a date with your first love and ex-boyfriend, Jung Jaehyun ♡ taglist - @colpen​ ; @cestmoncoeur​ ; @hyucksberry​ ♡ a/n - i had to repost bc tumblr keeps randomly deleting our shit omggg pls ;-; let us know if you want to be on the taglist for the next ones!

Jaehyun,

I’ve never done this before, but the feelings you give me are too intense to not write it out. You’re like every dream come to life. A fairytale that came alive from the books. You remind me of a noble, quiet prince riding on his high horse. It’s not subtle, but not too grand to be overwhelming.

I think I love you. You’d be rolling your eyes at that word. It’s high school, what could I possibly know about love, right? And no, it’s not about you being my first boyfriend and my first kiss. It’s much more than those mundane things.

It’s the skipping of my heart when I’m the reason behind the dimples appearing. Or the butterflies I feel knowing that you, Jung Jaehyun, likes me back. I’m truly still in shock that you’re dating me. There are about two hundred people in this entire school and I’m the one who you send goodmorning and goodnight texts to.

My favorite day is still the day you asked me to be your’s. Cliche, whatever. But I’m not the only one who gushed at the sight of you holding the bouquet of my favorite flowers. Or the way you nervously couldn’t look me in the eye. You are the sweetest boy that has graced my life. I don’t know how I managed to get so lucky.

It’s a lie for me to not admit that I do feel insecure at times about our relationship. You’re not one to express your emotions or thoughts, you tell me it’s your actions. As your slow, yet improving partner, I am currently mindful of every action, like when you brush my hair out of my face because you want to get a good look at me. To see the real me. I like that the most.

Do guys feel these same strange intense feelings? Like my heart bursts thinking about your shy glances and your fingers tangled with mine. Whenever you hug me, I feel like I’m holding the very thing that makes me feel alive. I’m experiencing excitement, joy, and a weird burning sensation that spreads across my chest. It’s like we’re living a movie, but it’s better because it’s real life.

You’re the one, Jaehyun. It’s hard to explain and I’m absolutely being dramatic. But it’s not too far fetched. We’re still young, but I can see a future with you and how you want to chase your dreams with someone by your side. Don’t act like you don’t look directly at me when you say that.

Don’t feel pressured, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage just yet. I just have an inexplicable feeling that you’re someone that I’m going to love forever.

In this fairytale, do you believe in forever?

-from your hopeless romantic girlfriend, y/n

If anyone were to be blamed for this very awkward encounter between you and your ex-boyfriend, it would be Mark Lee. He went on for ages, boasting about some hot guy he wanted to set you up with since you had been single for quite a time. He only meant good intentions, so you could stop holding yourself in your apartment alone during the weekends.

And there was no possible way for Mark to know that his Jung Jaehyun was the same Jung Jaehyun you dated back in high school. Though, if Mark had been specific by telling you the mystery boy’s name, you wouldn’t have to be standing in front of Jaehyun in a stiff atmosphere intended for a harmonious date.

“I didn’t expect to run into you.” Stupid and you knew, you weren’t the only one who thought so. Jaehyun practically scoffed so loud that it physically pained you. Arms crossed, weight barred on his left leg, eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head. He was definitely expecting someone else who didn’t make a fool out of themselves.

“(Y/N), don’t act like we didn’t apply and commit to the same college. We were bound to see each other in some way.”

“Fine, you’re right. I guess, I didn’t expect it to be like this.” Your eyes diverted shyly to the ground as you played with the ends of your sweet dress. At this point, your bed and pj’s seemed much better than a rekindle of the mess you made.

Jaehyun cursed at Mark underneath his breath before running his hands through his brown locks. There was too much you wished to stare at. Jaehyun still managed to make your heart stop with his attractiveness. Time benefited him more than anyone else you’ve met from your past. Through his changes, there were the similarities you loved: the depth of his dimples, the softness of his skin, the charm with a simple look, the fluffiness of his hair.

He dug his hands into his jean pockets and pursed his lips together before saying, “look, I don’t want to date you again and truthfully, Mark never told me your name when he talked about you, so I don’t know what twisted setup you two planned for this to be.”

Your facial expression reacted before you could collect your thoughts at the harsh rejection, which was a complete spin from when he had first accepted your heart. You were really regretting the pitiful letter sitting in your childhood room at the moment and the fact that he was the first letter.  

“Listen, Mark didn’t mention your name either when he talked about the ‘hot, sweet boy’, so you can kiss my ass if you really think that I purposefully set this up to get back together with you.” Jaehyun’s eyebrow rose and his jaw tightened at your response.

“I’m supposed to believe that this was a mere coincidence or a sickly twisted fate that we ended up together again?”

It was your turn to scoff, roll your eyes, and cross your arms. “Like how I’m supposed to believe you’re the same guy that Mark raves about. You’re far from a kindhearted, wholesome person who volunteers at the dog rescue center and to think, I ever fell for someone who had the potential to be this arrogant!”

A quick spin on your heels sent you dramatically walking off to your car. Though, the sounds of heavy footsteps caught up to you and a hand closed your car door shut before you could step in. “I’m sorry. I haven’t completely forgiven myself and you for the breakup.”

“It happened a long, long time ago.”

“You’re right, but I still beat myself up to this day that our relationship could have been saved if we both didn’t give up.”

Sighing, you held his cheek gently and he faced you with hurt reflecting in his eyes. “We were young and stubborn. We gave up because we didn’t have the emotional capacity to fix it, Jae.”

He lit up at the sound of his nickname and how much he missed hearing it roll off your tongue. It was like a switch flipped on. “Haven’t heard you say my name in a while. I almost forgot how much I loved it.”

The appearance of his dimples and brightening smile caused a disruption of butterflies to swarm in your stomach. This feeling could only be produced by him and no one else. The true holder of your heart has returned and left you a bit unsettled.

If he hasn’t already charmed your pants enough, his cool lean against your car definitely sealed the deal. “Are you flirting with me, Jung Jaehyun?” Your narrowed eyes zoned in on the unmistakable smirk that plastered his face.

His lips rolled together, emphasizing the crescents in his cheeks more. “We can’t let poor Mark down. How about we try going on this date?” He paused to gauge your reaction, “so we don’t have to lie when we report back to him.”

“Fine, for the sake of Mark and because I’ll admit, I did miss your presence.” Every detail reminded him of the most amazing times he spent with you. It was like he was watching one of his favorite films or listening to a forgotten playlist that triggered all kinds of emotions he had felt before.

He jumped off the vehicle with the biggest gleam that was not present earlier. This was the Jaehyun you remember. He couldn’t contain his excitement and oftentimes, only being able to express his emotions through his actions.

“Well, you’re not one who’s hard to miss. I don’t think I can get your smile out of my head for the next few days.” You quietly pondered the thought of how easy this all was for him.

Hours flew by, endlessly chatting away to catch up with each other’s lives and reminiscing the good parts of your relationship. The restaurant had grown empty and quiet, to the point of being kicked out of the establishment. Before either of you could process the mutual feeling of happiness, there was a brief moment of wondering what the next steps of this was. He cleared his throat when you two arrived at your car.

“I had a great time today, Jaehyun.” The sadness in your voice was not unnoticed by him.

“Can I ask why Mark was so persistent in setting us up?” Jaehyun inquired as he took off his jacket to wrap around your shaking, exposed shoulders. His thin shirt blew wildly in the breeze, but he’d rather have you warm and him frozen by the night.

The tiny thanks escaped as a whisper and you hugged his scent tighter. “He just wants me to stop being alone on the weekends because that’s when he goes back home with his family.”

Jaehyun nodded knowingly, “I can still change that for you.”

“Don’t give up your weekends at the shelter for me and it sounds like you already have a lot on your plate.”

He chuckled delightfully and there was hope to hear it again. “I can sacrifice a few hours at the shelter to be with a friend. Plus, you’re important to me and like I said many years before, I want you by my side as I chased my dreams. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner. I take the responsibility of being bitter over something in the past and tonight really made me realize what all the anger stole from me.”

Jaehyun pulled you into an overdue hug. His cologne engulfed you like old times. “Just to avoid confusion, we aren’t getting back together.. ever.” His chest muffled your words, but he heard you loud and clear.

“There’s not a sliver of hope?” It wasn’t hurt that laced his question, but something light and playful. Jaehyun’s strong arms pulled away, but his hands dropped to hold yours. A small smile rested on his face, his lips looked as tempting as you remembered them to be.

“No, there’s not.” The mood shifted to a more serious atmosphere, but it was finally time to address the elephant in the empty parking lot. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m always going to love you. People don’t call it a first love for nothing. Back when we were still together, and I told you I believed in forever, I meant it. But that doesn’t mean my heart wants you back, I want you to be happy with someone else.”

Jaehyun’s eyes sparkled underneath the dark night sky, but he broke the gaze when he grew shy at how the conversation had turned. A warmth spread across his chest and suffocated him tenderly. “Nice to know that I’m not the only one that still holds you in a special place in my heart. You’re right, my first love is unforgettable. You are unforgettable.”

Warm cheeks and shy, averting eyes wrapped up the date nicely. And all of which was thanks to Mark, who cluelessly set you up with your first love. You coughed to fill the tense air, noticing the goosebumps that rose on his arms. “We should get going, it’s too cold to be standing out here.”

“Right, I don’t want you catching a cold. You know how needy you get when your nose starts dripping uncontrollably.” His laughter mixed with yours as you handed his jacket back to him.

Rolling your eyes, Jaehyun helped you open your car door. “Anyways, are you up for a movie night this weekend?”

“No horror movies unless you want to end up in my arms.” He winked and you punched his arm playfully at his flirty banter.

“Don’t push it, Jae!” You giggled, entering your car to shield from the bitterness that was abandoned to linger in the air.

“Okay, princess. I’ll see you at your castle real soon.” With that, he closed your door and waved a small goodbye. Watching his figure disappear into his own vehicle, you realized the thought that Jaehyun was always the reason you started to love. Even in this reality, he was the reason you believed in a forever.

[undergrounddweller89]

Pen pals

Killian's in prison, one that belongs to the agency but it's more of a place to help people reform, but that's not the main part of the story , this is just Killian going though the moments he and Walter interacted , thinking about what he'd like to do with him and gets a surprise request later that day.

This is a one shot, so if you want to know what happens next well that's up to your imagination to decide <3

Killian likes to think of Walter...alot.

and I'm just hoping you enjoy this.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Everything followed order, up by seven, breakfast by eight, therapy by ten, lunch by one so on, so forth…

Killian was tired though, he was plagued by nightmares of the past, thankfully not every night, there was respite on the nights he dreamed of one Walter Beckett, his therapist had called these dreams and his emotions a form of rescue romance.

It was yes a reasonable conclusion but at the same time, he was willing to indulge his fantasies for the peace they brought him.

To have been faced with someone so kind, someone willing to save him, he found he could not turn away from the idea of that light after so many years in darkness.

He had to be strapped down when he slept, with the screaming and thrashing they’d said it was for his own good, after the first few times he’d hurt himself and other staff members.

Killian could tell, none of them wanted to admit it, he made them uneasy, he’d nearly destroyed their way of life, he would have succeeded if not for one man he’d greatly underestimated.

Kindness, a better way?

These ideals, ideas had once been a joke to him and yet they were exactly what brought him down and the reason he was alive.

Yes a better way.

Leaning on the cafeteria table, elbow on the surface, chin in palm as he played with the plastic fork, how easily he could crush it between his fingers, turn it into tooth picks between steel claw tips.

It was thanks to Walter Beckett he was here; thanks to him he still had his robotic arm with controlled strength so he couldn’t crush anyone’s skull with it…sadly.

They couldn’t exactly rip out his eye… but then again considering the history of the agency, Killian would not have put it past them, all they would have to do was put him under and have it removed and if they felt kind enough replace it with something plain.

Yes he’d heard about it, agents had even mocked him saying he had a fan in that little nerd, they called Beckett a weirdo for standing up for him, his devices had been disabled so they only functioned as eye and arm, again, that was because of Beckett.

A fascinating creature, unusual…what would it be like if he could sit down and talk with him, properly.

Man to man.

He took a bite of the mashed potatoes on his tray, lip curling, bland as anything.

Oh one more thing Walter had written and appealed to let him have his face mask, his argument had been closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

He did hate seeing it, that ugly reminder of what Lance had done to him, on bad days he couldn’t bare to look at it, the scars felt fresh as the memories would come crashing back…it wasn’t always like that but to have to see them constantly may have caused a genuine decline in his mentality.

Killian did miss having decent hair product and his own hair brush, of course, something he wasn’t allowed, you could easily shove the handle down someone’s throat, gouge an eye out, find a way to whittle the handle and make your own shiv.

You know just the small personal things.

Killian stared at the food; of course it was hard adjusting to what limitations he had but did the food have to be so plain.

Would it kill for a little seasoning, though Killian was sure if he filed a complaint it’d be put through the shredder, it wasn’t as if he was a favoured prisoner after all, his crimes he was sure made the guards act less than favourable, oh nothing that would get them in trouble, just looks, only going to points A and B, no conversation unless it was to get answers or be given orders.

He was grateful to be alive all the same, it meant he could still enjoy the ocean view, to see such vast waters that could lap gently one moment into great thundering storms...some people did not know just how privileged they were to see such things, he’d grown up in a land locked country with next to no time to travel, spending time with those he’d cared about and lost.

Poking at the tasteless food with a sigh, he thought of Beckett’s eyes, some type of god had poured the ocean into them...replaying visuals like a little black box, ones he could only see, he’d often look at Walter and how the light caught them, they were beautiful...his hair fire and copper, pale skin dusted lightly with freckles he wondered if they were also on his shoulders or the back of his neck, the idea of pressing his lips there tenderly was certainly a warming fantasy.

Killian smiled just a little, a fond one, you might just think he was planning revenge and enjoyed the thoughts, he knew others assumed all he was doing was cursing him, thinking up violent ways to tear him apart.

No, he was doing anything but that.

Killian’s days here had been spent reminiscing, going over each moment, ohhh having bionics that could record and store whatever he wanted was truly a wonderful thing.

Of course there was that first moment, where he’d stepped on him, being able to go back over the moments, he could think about how the dirt on his face made his eyes all the bluer, how brave he’d been, to face him, he’d only mildly fascinated him when he’d flipped him over onto his back with his foot, moving his shoe from his pretty face down to his chest.

A fleeting thought of what was someone like him do running around trying to stop him, he should be in someone’s bed surely...perhaps his had it been another time another place.

Walter had been surprisingly calm, but still trying to tell him there was a better way but the moment he’d heard Lance’s name, such pleas were falling on deaf ears, at that moment Killian would do anything, anything to hurt Sterling and a pair of pretty ocean eyes were not going to deter him from his mission.

So simple and yet genius to have escaped using a handful of breadcrumbs, the agency would have sooner murdered him, heh darling sweet Beckett perhaps a little too innocent for this world despite his age, no doubt reality had at least begun to set in even just a little ehhh probably.

Reaching for the salt and pepper in an attempt to bring some flavour to this god awful meal, brow furrowed in thought, recalling the battle, when he’d almost shot Walter when the M9 drones gun had been knocked from his hand, the laser fire just missing him and knocking down the wooden planks hiding his location at the time.

Until that point he’d believed he was dead...because he believed he had killed him in that moment when he’d sent the M9 drones to blow up his submarine, just to get back at Sterling ...well at least he’d tried to make that death quick, he could have taken him in and tortured Beckett right there in front of Lance.

There had been a moment of satisfaction in Lance’s pain, but it was fleeting, after he’d left Sterling to mourn he himself had needed some privacy a stiff drink...a moment to mourn the young life, the ocean had reclaimed that strange creature once more.

Killing was easy, but...that one, Beckett, hadn’t even screamed, kicked, cursed, scratched at him, didn’t even try to dig his fingers into flesh as he was pinned down, he continued to tell him there was a better way right up until the moment where he’d nearly mangled his face, anything he could do to hurt the agent who’d ruined him, he’d been willing to do.

Yes, when he’d seen Walter was alive there was a sense of relief and guilt lifted for that death...after Sterling through the effects of the truth serum exposed Walters plan, he’d briefly thought about incapacitating Walter, but no, he had a chance to let him live this time, instead he’d called a drone to run, Beckett was not a part of his vendetta, something about him was different than the others and despite his rage and pain when he looked at Walter he saw innocence, something similar to how he’d once been before Kyrgyzstan and the events that’d occurred there.

Killian felt a twist in his stomach at the thought of someone killing Walter, guilt at his own attempted, scrubbing a hand down his face; unable to eat he pushed his tray away.

Hearing the guard clear their throat and glance at the tray, Killian rolled his eyes, picking it up he disposed of its contents, he’d lost his appetite anyway and decided he’d feel more at peace in the recreational green house and headed off there.

They’d been given a choice of small jobs here and he’d chosen to work on the maintenance of plants, after all if he ever managed to leave this dammed place, a pleasant little flower store on the corner of Beckett’s Street might be a rather good way to live out his days even to just make sure he was safe.

But there was another reason he’d chosen the greenhouse besides that, entering through the steel and glass door, outside of the windows framed iron, with wooden paneling and seating beside them, you could see you were high up, oh but that view, the ocean vast and wide as if it never ended, all manner of colours during the summer days from blues to emeralds scattered in gold, grey and destructive during storms and rain would hit like mini stones over the glass...beautiful.

He touched over the soft velvet petals of white roses and irises, they were his favourites, stars in the night or perhaps as he looked them over, there was another reason he favoured the contrast, light and darkness could not truly co exist without the other, you could not appreciate much unless you had the opposite to see the difference.

Pulling on a glove for his human hand, he took up the pruning sheers on the table where the tools were set, if he so much as tried to leave the room with these an alarm would go off, they were all tagged and would cause problems for anyone trying to smuggle them out of their correct location.

Tending to the plants, making precise slow cuts, searching for any little weed, the soil was rich and soft, rolling small pieces between gloved finger tips, there was a peace to be found in tending to such beautiful fragile things...he’d tend to Walter if he could.

It had all meant to end in bloodshed.

He thought to himself.

Justice for what happened to the people who’d been innocent, the ones who’d sooner have died themselves than spilt a single drop of blood purposefully.

Killian honestly didn’t give a shit about any of the people he was surrounded by now, he had no ties no reason to, the spies the people of the agency, oh he still hated them, he would gladly see them die and-

He stilled a rose head falling against the dark earth...his bionic eye went from red to blue again, staring down at the flower, a wasted life that had done nothing but simply exist...

Placing the shears down, clearly it wasn’t a good idea for him to he holding sharp instruments right now, instead he picked up the white flower and cupped it in his palm, long metal fingers gently prying off each petal and placing them on the dirt one by one...looking up he knew exactly why white roses....

Beckett’s pale skin and the ocean waves that paled in comparison of his eyes...why did Walter of all beings bring him the same peace of a sunset shore highlighted in warm tones fading into the calming tones of dusty pink as the night sky began to settle in.

Hands empty now he stepped closer to the window, looking up out into the spread of clouds highlighted in the afternoon sun, only now beginning to show signs of the evening.

Killian had depended on that one moment when he’d brought Walter face to face to him, he could have head butted him, he knew exactly how to do that and carried him off, dropped him even, but that moment of fear that showed in his eyes, his first thought was perhaps he could reason with him.

“If you shut them down now you’ll kill us both.”

That look as Walter had turned his head to see just how high they were, he could have used the drone right there at his disposal to shoot him, destroy the device on his wrist, something anything, but the idea of seeing the light gone from those eyes, empty and cold...no he’d had to hope he could change his mind...but then again negotiations had never been his strong point.

“And you’re no killer.”

That was it.

That was all he could think off to say to him!

He could have said

‘I’ll stop the attack if you come with me, I’ll leave, drop this mission if you come with me! ‘

Instead he’d just assumed that Walter wouldn’t dare cause them both to die, with his talk of doing things differently...that moment when he’d said

“No I’m a hugger.”

It had baffled Killian entirely and then...that device separated them, Mcford had tried to reach out, he couldn’t believe it, despite their difference, his naive view on the world, Walter chose to save him.

Seeing him fall, time itself had slowed, he knew what was going to happen to Walter, his despairing gaze only turning when the drone had been deactivated and realized he too was heading back to earth.

Now the question was...would Walter have done the same...if he’d not had the inflatable hug? Indeed that was something to ponder on.

Something told him though his choice would have been the same...but at the price of both their lives, he could settle for losing his own but it grated him, the idea of such wonderful potential almost lost because of his own rage, the idea of Walter being...

Killian glanced over at the scattered white petals...yes just like that.

It was strange...

Killian sat on the window seat, the cushions were thin and in need of a change for new ones, however this was a prison not a five star resort, shoulder pressed to the glass and looking down where the docks were, empty at present, no new arrivals, visitors usually came by helicopter.

How peculiar that a man he barely knew had wormed his way under his skin, into his heart, was it infatuation?

Scratching at his cheek lightly, disrupting his hologram, metal softly grinding on metal.

The thought of Walter being dead, cold, buried in darkness unsettled him, something more like a glass coffin would be more suitable, he should be displayed like a pretty china doll, yes the idea of him being dead that alone could smother out the sun itself.

Killian would never forget that moment he was sitting inside that inflatable ball, defeated, arm inactive, at first stewing in his defeat, the fact that glitter and bubbles had practically put an end to his plans to get the justice he’d for the last ten years had been seeking, that irritating squeak as the waves caused it to gently bounce against the rocks, he remembered feeling exhausted, knowing it had all come to an end and not the one he’d wanted, how his victory had been stolen, he was supposed to die getting that revenge , end all that anger, to have his pain silenced.

Oh it still hurt to think back on the past but as he heard Eye’s voice, that amazement and awe.

“He saved him.”

It soothed something in him, his rage dissipating as he placed a hand on the interior of his plastic prison and asked, even though he knew it was impossible his first response, his first question had been a small yet hopeful thing

“Is he alive?”

Killian had expected the worst but to hear he’d survived, he didn’t care how, Walter was alive and that was all that mattered, his choked sob of relief had left the onlookers baffled but he didn’t care, their opinions didn’t matter to him just Walters.

In a world where violence was met with more violence, death, endless and continuous…his angel had taken the hands that had intended harm and smiled, offering his life for his, not literally of course but the metaphorical substance was there, Beckett could have saved himself and the agency, but those eyes looked up at him and without a word said

'You are worth saving.'

How could he ever thank Walter for that chance to live and start over, Killian didn’t think he could ever repay the mercy he’d been given.

No one had ever done something so selfless, at least not for him, the best he could do was to try to think more like him, even if to show he valued Walters ideals and respected him, he’d been reminded that violence was not the only solution, but learning to forgive, to try and move on was a start, it would be a long and arduous that much was clear, especially with Lance in the mix, that definitely soured things but maybe there was more to Kyrgyzstan, metal claws flexed instinctively, he’d locked in one thought , a play over again and again of what happened until he was no longer a man but a monster, now that life had been breathed into him…what did that make him now?

Sighing, Killian rested his forehead on the window, everything was so complicated now, if he could time jump, reverse it, he’d slip back into that moment when he and Walter where being carried away, he would make a bargain, a trade of shutting down all of the M9 assassins from their course, all but the one that held them above the surface of the world in their own private little paradise, all Walter would have to do was agree to come with him, be with him forever and ever, after all that wasn’t really so long at all was it, not if it was happy and full of wonder.

A small smirk formed on Killian’s lips, knowing already what the answer would be, after all Beckett was so eager to save people wasn’t he, but he, Killian would actually show his genuine appreciation for it, he wondered what his darling sparrow was up to now, had the agency thrown him in a corner, commemorated him for his astounding work, one could never be quite sure especially with how they continued to allow Lance to carry on after what happened in Kyrgyzstan.

Killian had, had his little daydreams though, like waking up and finding him sleeping on his chest as the morning sun caressed over them, exposing those subtle freckles that dusted over Walter’s cheeks highlighting auburn hair, which would be a mess after a night of love making, fingers stroking through it and down his spine, Killian couldn’t help but wonder if Walter’s skin was soft.

Thinking of his own scars, Tristian was also curious to know if Beckett had any of his own from science projects gone wrong, in places he’d never see but long to kiss if only to show him he found each and every part of his body beautiful.

He wanted to know how he looked when laughing, the sound of his laughter, to see how his look of want would be beneath or above him, back arching and flushed.

How sweet would he sound at tender kisses to his neck, being held and softly whimpering, maybe the fantasy was better than the reality, but with his current situation he would never have the chance to find out and well…it was highly unlikely that Walter would ever see him in such a way right?

Killain smiled at the thought of getting to talk to him in a situation as simple as having a coffee at some quiet little corner shop, asking about his day, even if there was no chance for romance…the man who’d helped Sterling still had to be interesting to say the least.

Someone who could hack into his bionic arm had to be highly intelligent, no one else had even thought of it…himself included, obviously or he would have put in more precautions to make sure that couldn’t happen, Killian knew he was lucky in that circumstance that Walter was kind that he believed in a better way or he could have very well turned his own robotic arm against himself, what an irony that would have been.

He flexed his metal claws, of course it had the right firewalls and software now after Walter put in the safety measures himself.

Looking up as the greenhouse door was opened, was it another inmate? As much as he wished the place was just his he was not the only one who enjoyed a little therapeutic time with the plants, it turned out to be a guard holding an envelope, looking less than pleased.

Sitting up Killian eyed the paper with suspicion, usually guards didn’t hand deliver letters unless it was from someone higher up, had something been overturned, given the death sentence behind Beckett’s back…no if that was the case no doubt the guard would be looking pleased with themselves, either way it’d been opened and the vetting team hadn’t even tried to hide it…maybe it was the guards and they had come to tell him something, after all who was even left to send him mail, who’d want to.

“Seems that weirdo, wants to write to you.”

The guard laughed extending their arm as they handed Killian the letter.

Frowning at them, he purposely took it with his claws, finding satisfaction at how they flinched when they snapped sharply together.

“I think you’ll find that weirdo has more intelligence in his little finger than you do your whole body…are you jealous that he’s not writing you, after all I hear you constantly bragging that you think if some nobody can become boss of his own division why can’t you, he’s not a no body unlike you he’s a genius you troglodyte.”

Smirking as their expression soured, the guards fingers flexed, they were someone who thought themselves above the rules but Killian unsettled them enough that they didn’t mess with him, it wasn’t worth the fear of looking over their shoulder and with Killian's model behavior since arrival they wouldn’t be able to say that it was in Mcford’s character, it would look alike they’d provoked him…of course there were also cameras in the corners of the green house to.

“Whatever.”

They grumbled and left.

Killian pulled off the gardening glove he’d been wearing and set it down before pulling the paper from the torn envelope , Walter’s stationary had pigeons on it at first he wondered if it was some in joke about their first meeting in Venice, though as he read through the five pages the young man had sent him he understood and somehow Beckett was now ten times more endearing to him, it was easy to imagine him being excitable as he told him about his day of course keeping out top secret information he wouldn’t be privy to but still.

The numerous facts on pigeons, talking about the little things that went on through the day, asking if he was alright, hoping he was being treated well, that one day he’d like to come visit him.

Beckett couldn’t be real, no one was this nice and genuine, he had to be in a hospital bed in Kyrgyzstan in a coma and dealing with death and Walter was just waiting for him in a heaven he was welcomed in, that had to be it.

The hand writing a mix between messy and curly, written in Walter’s own hand, it made it all the more personal than some printed out thing that was signed at the bottom, finger tips tracing over the paper, this was something Walter had touched, it was for him.

These words were written for him, even if the security had checked it over, it made it no less important or special to him.

He would of course have to write Beckett back, it would be a terrible thing to leave him hanging like that.

Reaching the final words on the last page he stilled and had to read it again…and then again…and again to process what he’d been asked by the younger man.

Pen Pals?

He wanted to be

Pen Pals?

Well now wasn’t that interesting.

‘Would you like to be Pen pals and see what the future can bring?

Sincerest wishes for your better future

Walter Beckett

P.s

I sent a picture of myself if you want to throw darts at it in case you hate me, but if not use it as a book mark or something.’

Killian looked at the picture he realized was still in the envelope which surprised him, his heart nearly exploded from how adorable he looked, smiling at the camera with a white and brown pigeon nesting in his hair, oh that must be the Lovey he’d mentioned in the letter, how cute, he smiled fondly, well he’d be doing more than just using it as a book mark, it’d help him get through lonely nights to, not that Walter needed to know that.

The gesture was wonderful, if he could hold him he would have, resting his back against the window he held the letter and picture to his chest, the giddiness that swelled inside him was like being in love for the first time all over again.

In a soft tone he whispered a thank you, eye closing as the other went dim.

Could they be pen pals?

Of course the answer was yes.

He’d love to.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 3/6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: None

Notes: I was actually going to post this yesterday but apparently a post limit is a thing, oops. I think that constitutes as me winning the liveblogging. /j

Also, yes I changed Willie’s pronouns because I’ve developed an attachment to he/they Willie :)))

Anyway! Here’s chapter 3, I hope you like it :)))

---

Alex doesn’t quite know when it happened, but the coffee… not-dates, have become a thing. Willie seems to have a sort of sixth sense that just knows when Alex needs coffee and a breath of fresh air. It’s odd, the way they’ve sunk into a routine in just a month and a half. Alex has Willie’s schedule memorized, he knows that Willie likes skating to his classes and that he only has caffeine on Saturdays and that he has a favorite tree he likes to study under. He refuses to admit to himself that Willie seems to know him just as well, from buying him more bandaids when he knows the ones in his fannypack are running low, to calling him and making sure he doesn’t stay up too late studying that one night when Willie was at Caleb’s for the weekend.

Alex has a tendency to stay up late studying, because he has this ridiculous, innate desire to get everything perfect. He supposes it comes from the fact that at one point, he was sure he wouldn’t even be in college, so now that he is, he feels like he has to succeed or his entire everything will come crashing down. So despite the fact that he’s gone over his notes a million times and the only noise is the clock ticking past 2am, he remains glued to the couch, eyes straining to read the page in his history textbook.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been staring at that page for 30 minutes.” Willie’s standing in the entrance to the living room, smiling, their hair pulled into a loose braid that makes them look soft around the edges. He’s holding a cup of tea in one hand and Alex’s favorite blanket in the other.

Alex looks up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Hm? Thought you were asleep,” he says, stifling a yawn. He feels a pang of guilt at the thought that he woke Willie up. Willie has a hard enough time falling asleep as it is.

Willie shrugs and moves to sit beside him on the couch, offering him the steaming mug. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and saw the light was still on. Drink the tea, it’s peppermint.”

“Peppermint makes me tired.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Alex eyes the tea suspiciously, but he’s weak for peppermint tea, and Willie knows it. He gives in, sipping it and sighing contentedly. His eyes threaten to flutter shut, and the prospect seems so tempting. “You should go to sleep,” he murmurs.

Willie shakes their head. “Not until you do.” They reach over and shut Alex’s textbook, ignoring his protesting. “You have a 9am class, you need to sleep, hotdog.” Willie’s voice is gentle in the way that makes Alex’s stomach do flips. He tosses the blanket over Alex’s lap, making sure it covers his feet, which are always cold, because anxiety sucks like that.

“I will,” Alex replies indignantly. “I just- I just gotta finish this one thing-” He cuts himself off with a loud yawn and Willie shakes his head knowingly.

“It’s 2am dude, you’re incapable of getting anything done past 1 and we both know it.”

“Not true.”

Willie raises an eyebrow. “Really? C’mon man, all that studying is gonna go to waste if you’re too tired to even take the test. Sleep, now.”

Alex hums in response, too tired to get out another coherent sentence. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes. “Five minutes,” he mumbles. “Then you wake me up.”

“Of course, hotdog,” Willie whispers. His hand hovers just over Alex’s, hesitant. He pulls back before Alex can overthink it, but there’s something hanging heavy in the air.

Alex pulls the blanket up to his chin and half asleep, offers Willie one corner. Willie swallows thickly before carefully taking the blanket and wrapping it around himself, drawing them closer together. If he’d been fully awake, Alex never would’ve done what he did next, letting his head drop unceremoniously onto Willie’s shoulder before drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of Willie’s heartbeat. It’s reminiscent of his drums and the way they soothe his anxiety, a steady, warm beat that feels like home. He’s sure that he’s dreaming when he feels Willie’s hand card through his hair, but oh what a lovely dream it is.

Alex wakes up to muffled cursing and the sun shining in his eyes. He blinks the sleep away, noting that the light is coming from the wrong angle and his neck is incredibly sore. The events of the night before come flooding back and he considers holing up in his room and never looking Willie in the eyes again. And yet, despite the mortification of falling asleep on Willie’s shoulder and the cramp in his neck, he feels more rested than he has in weeks.

A sudden crash from the kitchen snaps Alex out of his daydreaming  It takes him a good couple minutes to register that Willie is practically hopping around the kitchen, narrowly avoiding dropping more things on the floor, and he almost smiles at the sight before remembering that Willie has admitted to being a terrible cook and Alex should probably intervene before something gets set on fire.

Alex trudges up to the counter, eyes still heavy with sleep. “What’re you doing?”

Willie looks up and Alex breaks down, laughing so hard his stomach hurts. There’s flour smeared all across Willie’s cheeks and what looks to be milk dripping from their hair and their eyes are wild with panic and laughter. Willie reaches over and pokes Alex’s chest. “Stop it,” they whine, biting their lip to keep from laughing. “I’m trying to make waffles but…” he looks around at the mess in the kitchen and sighs in resignation. “This was a bad idea. The dining hall waffles taste like cardboard, and I would just make pancakes since those are easier, but I know you like waffles better since they have little compartments for the syrup. So I thought y’know, it can’t be that hard, I just need a recipe and a waffle maker. But did you know there are a lot of rules to cooking that are not stated like anywhere? And waffle makers? Not very easy to use. A pain to clean too.”

“Where did you even get a waffle maker?” Alex questions, glancing over at the contraption cautiously.

“That girl from my art history class owed me a favor.”

“The one you gave skateboarding lessons so she could impress her crush? She just has a waffle maker lying around?”

Willie nods. “Yup.”

“And you went all the way over to the girls dorms at-” Alex glances at the clock and subtracts an hour from the current time. “- 7am. So you could borrow her waffle maker?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Willie runs his hands over his face, laughing. “It’s stupid. But uh… I got you coffee?”

“It’s not stupid,” Alex says. “I uh, I think it’s sweet. Really. Just, please don’t try it again, I don’t want the dorm burnt down.” He chuckles lightly and begins toying with his hoodie strings, cheeks slightly pink. “Coffee?”

Willie reaches into the fridge and pulls out a coldbrew. “I didn’t want it to get warm and I didn’t know when you’d wake up, but uh, here.”

Alex takes the coffee and something in his heart bursts just a little bit. “You remembered my coffee order.”

“I mean yea it’s… it’s what you get every time.” Willie scratches the back of their neck, rocking back and forth on his heels anxiously.

“Your memory sucks, dude.” Alex continues to stare at the cup like it’s something from an alien planet. “I- thank you.”

“Yea, yea of course.” Willie smiles softly, sitting next to Alex and nudging his shoulder. “It’s what friends are for.”

“I’m not helping you clean the kitchen.”

“Rude, I hate you.”

---

Alex is fairly sure he didn’t fail his history test, and his professor for his last class of the day had to cancel, so he’s let off early. All in all, satisfactory for a Monday.

It’s a fairly warm day, but chilly enough for him to be wearing a denim jacket. LA doesn’t really see actual fall until well into November, but having lived there his whole life, Alex needs a jacket as soon as it hits 65 degrees. There’s a bounce in his step as he walks across campus, a grin tugging at the ends of his lips. He’d agreed to meet Willie at the skatepark, and it sounds stupid that he’s so excited to see them, considering they live together, but this feels different. It isn’t a date, he reminds himself that he couldn’t be that lucky, but it’s nice. It’s nice to be able to spend time together as friends instead of just roommates.

Alex swings his rollerblades over his shoulder, bringing his other hand up to his face in order to block the sun, hoping to make it easier to find Willie. It isn’t hard to spot him, Willie stands out, and Alex wonders if that’s because of Willie himself or… something else. They’re like a light, the center of Alex’s messy, muddled universe. Willie’s perched on the back of a wooden bench, feet planted on the actual seat and looking off at the sky, they drum theiir feet to the beat of whatever song is playing in their headphones and mouths the lyrics quietly. Alex has always has a habit of noticing things. It stems from his anxiety, but it isn’t so bad when the things he notices is the golden haze around Willie’s head from the way the sun is positioned, or the way the light breeze snakes through his hair. Willie is very pretty, it’s a simple fact, one that Alex had never failed to take notice of; but watching him so… at peace, lost in his thoughts, it hits Alex like a truck.

Alex sidles up to the bench, standing over Willie’s shoulder. “Whatchya listening to?”

Willie yelps and leaps slightly in the air, clutching at his chest. “Christ Alex, you’re like a ghost! How’re you so quiet?”

“Hmm, I think you’re just oblivious.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” Alex hops over the back of the bench to sit beside Willie. “What’re you thinking about? You had your daydream face on.”

“I don’t have a daydream face.”

“You totally do!” Alex snickers. “It’s like…” He gives a poor rendition of Willie’s so called daydream face, sending the other boy into a fit of giggles.

“I sure hope that isn’t my face,” Willie breathes, clutching onto Alex’s shoulder for balance. Alex begs his heart to please beat a bit slower. When Willie finally calms down, his hand lingers on Alex for a few moments, like he doesn’t quite know how to move it. When they do, Alex’s shoulder feels cold, and he thinks that Willie holding onto him was helping to balance them both, in a way. He shakes that thought from his mind, forcing himself to focus on the present, not the possibilities. Willie is swinging their feet, occasionally brushing Alex’s knees or his calves. His hair is let down and slightly tangled from his helmet, which is resting on the bench beside his skateboard. Alex lets out a gentle breath. Focus on the present. God, he sounds like a therapist.

“Are we gonna skate?” Alex asks, gesturing at his rollerblades and Willie’s skateboard.

Willie seems to think about it for a moment before shaking their head. “Two more songs,” they decide. “I’ll feel incomplete if I don’t finish the playlist.”

Alex peeks over his shoulder at his phone, where Spotify is open. “What’re you listening to?”

Willie scoots closer and Alex is painfully aware of how close they are, their knees knocking together. He offers Alex his other earbud and his voice is soft when he asks if Alex wants to listen with him. It’s like he’s holding a piece of himself in his hands, Alex recalls a time where Luke said that showing someone your music is like showing them your soul. Alex thought he was being dramatic, but now he thinks that he wouldn’t mind having a part of Willie’s soul to keep. He takes the earbud, and they have to move their heads closer to avoid any accidents with the wire. Their foreheads are inches apart, Alex can see the reflection in Willies eyes, soft and earthy, like the bark on his favorite tree that he used to climb until he felt like he could fly.

“Hmm, Green Day’s good,” Alex says, softly lip-syncing the ending of American Idiot. Willie nods in agreement, the movement causing a few loose strands of hair to brush across Alex’s face. Alex has to close his eyes for a few seconds, breath catching in the back of his throat.

A beat of silence passes between songs; Alex can hear Willie’s even breathing and he’s sure Willie can hear his sporadic heartbeat. It’s like they’re trapped in their own little bubble, where the sun never sets and they’re always wrapped in gold. And then it’s over and another song begins.

“Avril Lavigne?” Alex means it to come out as teasing, but his voice is far more tender than he intended.

“Don’t make fun of me!” Willie giggles, bumping Alex’s shoulder. “Shhh, let me listen to the song.”

Alex is so focused on his proximity to Willie that he isn’t paying too much attention to the lyrics that everyone’s heard a million times. “I like ballet,” he mutters absentmindedly in response to the song, not really clocking the way Willie’s face flushes crimson. He quirks a curious eyebrow when Willie shoots up, shoving their phone and earbuds into their pocket. “We didn’t finish the-”

“Lets skate!” Willie cuts in, plastering on a false smile. “I just REALLY wanna skate, so lets do that! Yup! Okay!” They hop on their skateboard, bouncing in anticipation and Alex can’t even admire the way that their hair dances in the wind because he’s just so confused. He’s sure he didn’t do anything wrong. He just said that he likes ballet and-oh. Alex buries his face in his hands at the realization, internally cursing himself. Well that’s one way to accidentally admit to your blossoming crush. Lovely.

Alex opens his mouth to get out an apology, but it’s stuck in the back of his throat. He fumbles with his blades, straps too small and agile beneath his shaking hands. Whatever. It’s fine. If he doesn’t mention it, it didn’t happen right? Willie doesn’t seem to be making any moves to talk about it, so he doesn’t either. Willie still has one foot on his board, looking ready to flee any moment, his eyes glued to the pavement.

“So, you dance?” Willie asks casually, but Alex can hear the tension behind the question.

“Uh yea, since I was little. Another way I disappointed my parents, they always told me dancing was girly and it’d turn me gay.” He laughs ruefully. “We all know how that worked out.” Willie nods distantly. “I danced in high school, mostly jazz, I was never great at ballet.”

“Jazz?!” Alex gasps in mock offense.

“Stupid egotistical ballerina,” Willie teases. The tension seeps from Alex’s shoulders when Willie finally makes eye contact and there isn’t anything hidden behind his gaze. Alex lets a tentative smile creep onto his face, but there’s still something unspoken dangling precariously in the air above them.

---

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

Notes: ok so this chapter was originally like 1,000 words longer but I cut out the last scene FOR GOOD REASON I PROMISE! 

I hope you liked it :)))

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Atfǫr (Ivar’s PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Atfǫr: method, execution (law), attack (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Ivar’s perspective of what’s happening on Strepshire. Stretches over chapter 33 till 35-ish (chapter 35 picks up a lil bit after the end of this one)

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of death, war, and wounds.

A/N: Friendly reminder, so that you’re not caught off guard later, that in this universe Sigurd is alive, living in Bamburgh (Northumbria) married to Blaeja.

Long before Ragnar took him to England and Alfred taught Ivar to play chess, Ivar learned to play hnefa-tafl with Floki.

Ivar remembers, as if it were yesterday that he was spending time with him and not years since Floki had left them; how with the laugh that was uniquely his Floki would taunt him about his wrong moves, and when Ivar would get angry and refuse to play anymore, the boatbuilder would still set the pieces back on the board.

Sometimes it took days, sometimes it took hours, but Ivar always dragged himself back to that chair and called for Floki to join him for another match. Without fail, he was there, sitting across from him with that glint in his eye and taunting him to make his next move.

He remembers those days, and Helga’s quiet laugh as she passed by Floki, her hand over his back and her kohl-lined eyes on the board. And he remembers the first time he won was because of Helga.

It was some years before his father returned, and Ivar remembers the bubbling anger inside him at how Floki had managed to outsmart him for days on end when playing hnefa-tafl. He remembers Helga kneeling next to him so she could be on level with the table, and he remembers her hand over one of the pieces.

“Floki always gives up half of his defenders in the beginning,” She told him, a smile that, like all her smiles were, had a sadness to it. “Even he is predictable, Ivar. Everyone is.”

And she was right. Floki’s moves were predictable in hnefa-tafl, and Alfred’s moves were predictable in chess. And Stithulf’s moves are predictable in war.

And it is easy, at least for him, to see pieces on a board, even now.

It feels strangely reminiscent of the time they faced Aethelwulf, taunting the Saxons with only the presence of the army. It certainly feels the same to Ubbe, it seems, who by the third time they almost taunt Stithulf into attacking grunts a breath and tells him it is easy to do this all day when you’re sitting on a chariot, brother.

Still, they make enough time to let the few men they send inside settle and prepare the tunnels to wait for Stithulf, and when tomorrow comes they will make him face them while pretending not to know of the tunnels he will send his best through.

There’s familiarity in the way Ivar and Ubbe lay on the grass near the camp and overlook the city just like they did before York, only this time Hvitserk isn’t with them, only this time so many things have changed that it is almost as if they aren’t the same men.

“Hvitserk did good in finding about those tunnels.” Ubbe comments, and all Ivar offers in response is a grunt.

“They won’t be able to ambush us, but we still need to try to keep the Arabs inside that city,” He tells him, “Fighting them in open fields gives them a victory.”

“That is not something you’d have learned in Dublin.” His brother intones, and Ivar rolls his eyes, turning to lay on his back on the grass.

After a breath, Ubbe does the same, and they lay side by side looking up at the darkening skies.

“Of course I listen to her. Unlike you, I intend to keep my wife with me.”

He ignores the jab at him, only sighs.

After a few breaths of silence, his brother asks, “How is she, by the way? I haven’t seen her in…months?”

“Weeks.”

“Still.”

“She’s…” Ivar shrugs, and at the lack of words offers, “She threatened me to keep me from reaching Valhalla for as long as she has breath if I don’t return.”

Ubbe laughs, but still asks, “Do you think she can do that?”

“I don’t intend to find out.” He sentences, before sitting up and grabbing his bound legs to move them behind him and crawl back to camp.

At his back, Ubbe clears his throat.

“I am happy for you. Proud of you,” His brother tells him. Ivar stays silent, he doesn’t really know what to say to that. Ubbe chuckles, “You…you chose well, Ivar.”

“Better than you, certainly.” He taunts, but his smile is something less cutting than it should be, less mocking than he intended, as he returns to camp.

Late that night, when the few men they sent ahead have already set up within Strepshire, when the tunnels Hvitserk learned about are already theirs and await the Saxons’ ambush through them; Ivar lingers by the map of the city and its surroundings that his brother managed to find before he was to leave Kattegat.

He hears the steps he knows by memory now, and doesn’t turn to acknowledge Ubbe as he walks in. The older man takes a seat nearby, a horn of mead in his hand.

“There’s enough of an opening by now. We can send our men in during the night, wait within the walls.” Ubbe offers, but Ivar doesn’t hesitate to shake his head.

“You have to be careful, Ivar,” Floki tells him, holding the piece he took like a trophy between them. He narrows his eyes, but the man continues, “The fort will hurt you -and me- once the game starts. You can easily be trapped and cornered inside the walls.”

“No, we fight on open fields. The Arabs are going to be in those tunnels, we can take care of the Saxons outside the walls.” He orders, and for once Ubbe doesn’t argue.

“If those mercenaries join him outside the walls…”

“We will know. They stick out.” Ivar tells him, the conversation so similar to how they planned to defend Dublin from those foreigners of strange weapons and stranger tactics.

“I will take the flank. They will count on them to unbalance us, right? Well, I have fought them before, I can lead my men against them.”

Ivar doesn’t take his eyes off the map, but he does betray a mocking smile,

“Look at you, brother, taking advice from a Greek witch.”

Ubbe lets out a huff of laughter, and it is in that small moment of quiet, in that small and private moment past all the pride and the jealousy, that Ivar admits, only to himself of course, that he has missed his brother, missed what he thought lost when he almost killed Sigurd.

____

Ubbe pushed his men to cover the opening in the city’s walls, keeping the Arab mercenaries trapped inside and at the mercy of the long and thin streets, easily ambushed with each wave they send in.

And on the open fields outside Strepshire, the Saxon army takes heavy losses, and Ivar watches raptly as the armies clash. Pieces on a board, but so much more entertaining to watch.

He sees the commander call for retreat across half a battlefield.

Alfred’s eyes lift to meet his for barely a moment, and he retreats his hand from hovering over the knight and grabs his King, moving him away and closer to the Queen. And Ivar doesn’t know much of this game the Saxons play yet, but he knows when the most important piece retreats, he has won. It is only a matter of time now.

Ivar knows it is Stithulf. He would recognize the man anywhere. Both his death and his life haunt Ivar more than he would ever admit.

It is the man that threatened his kingdom, the man that tried killing him and his brothers, the man that his wife vowed revenge against. More than almost anything, he wants him dead.

Yet he is also the man that, just by breathing, keeps you with him.

The Saxon lives in a state between dead and alive as much as you do, as much as Ivar does, it seems.

“I want that one,” He tells his men, eyes on the Christian that at the sound of his voice turns to meet his eyes. Ivar smiles, his voice a hoarse yell when he orders, “And I want him alive!”

And something familiar shines in the Saxon’s eyes. Fear.

And Ivar wonders who it is Stithulf fears, truly. If it is him, or you.

And it fills Ivar with a strange sort of thrill, to imagine that his wife, the woman that looks at him -and only him- with softness and warmth and what he could fool himself into believing is love, is the woman that across a sea, with nothing but the implication of her wrath, manages to make a man like Stithulf fear.

You’re smiling down at him, a smile that reminds him of that first time he saw you, of blood dripping down your lips and the war cry of a Valkyrie, “What a pair we make, then. The Viking King and the Greek witch.”

They don’t need Stithulf to retreat, and he signals his men to let them go and cower. They will strike again soon, and even if they can get far enough, they will meet again.

Now settled comfortable inside the city, Ivar walks the narrow streets, still littered with injured or dead men, towards the dilapidated building where he was told they kept Stithulf, trying to ignore the building pain in his legs at forcing himself to wear the braces for too long now.

They keep Stithulf in a darkened room, hands and legs bound with rope and arms tied to a wooden pillar at his back. Ivar takes a seat in front of him, toying with the crutch as he observes the older man.

He hadn’t noticed, though he realizes now he should have guessed, that Stithulf was not only scarred by his last encounter with you, but blinded. His eye is white and unseeing, surrounded by still-pink scar tissue.

Ivar leans closer to the Saxon, who keeps a defiant eye on his.

“That plan of yours, how is it going?”

“I’m not Bishop Heahmund, I won’t entertain your ramblings, heathen.”

That does make him smile. The fool thinks he gives nothing away by offering resistance, when he actually shows his hand more than he ever could with an open stance.

Ivar leans back with a downward curve of his mouth, “I am willing to entertain yours. So, tell me, why do all this?” He motions with his free hand all around him, “You had to know you’d lose.”

“Why did you and your brothers gather your Great Army and marched on England? Why did your wife vow to take my soul with her to her Hell?”

“Revenge? Not very Christian of you.”

“The seat of power of my home is occupied by Vikings, the last of my King’s blood was abducted by a son of Ragnar,” Stithulf’s eyes hold a certainty, a fire, that almost surprises Ivar. “Revenge is all I have left.”

“Bamburgh is not occupied, it is legally my brother’s. And your princess’ marriage to Sigurd was the work of Ecbert, no…abduction.”

The Christian laughs bitterly, mocking, “Ah, and your wife is willingly staying by your side? Tell yourself all the lies you wish, heathen, we both know the tale is other.”

“And what is this tale?”

“That none of you beasts, you…sons of Ragnar, can hold on to anything. Not land, not love, not each other.”

But you do not care to be called a beast, a monster, do you? One such as you knows better than to expect love, I suppose.

The anger starts in his chest, an old blend of too many things that it is easier to name wrath, and Ivar feels his nose furrow in a snarl, his teeth gritting together.

With the anger comes the restlessness, the need to make the pain and the anger take form, the desire to hurt back.

And he gathers, out of all the things you’ve forgiven, you could certainly forgive him for killing Stithulf instead of bringing him to you alive, couldn’t you?

For a few moments he lingers on it, he lets himself be lulled by the siren song of silencing the iron-willed Saxon once and for all. To silence his voice and all the others that agree with him.

But your voice is clear in his head as if it were being spoken by you again, as if you were sitting across from him and looking into his eyes and whispering, while he still lives, I have reasons to stay here.

And he stays frozen, lingering on the realization that bound and helpless lies the man that he promised you as a gift, that the one thing keeping you in Kattegat could be dead soon, that the promise could be fulfilled and you could be gone before winter is over. And so Ivar stays there, frozen for too long trying to think of all the possible outcomes, as if this were but yet another battle, but finding himself unable to think of anything other than a life without you in it.

Gone is the woman that had an axe to her neck and still asked if she should be impressed, and pleading eyes search his, “You cannot do this, you cannot expect me to-…don’t put chains on me.”

The answer was always there, wasn’t it? Even if you say you can’t choose, the choice has already been made.

You turn to face him, steeled resolve shining in your gaze, arrogance in your posture, “You won’t be the first man to try to chain me. My very blood makes me belong to them. Athens, and Sparta, Greece; it’ll summon me to return sooner or later.”

It was never even a choice, was it? You were always going to belong to them, you were always going to love and need and choose them.

A deep breath, and you meet your gaze, a resigned sort of strength making you give him your answer, that is as unwavering as your voice, “I would leave.”

He stays frozen, for so long it seems, that even Stithulf grows bored of the silence.

“I assume you’ll be taking me with you to your home?”

“It won’t do you any good to assume anything.” Ivar tells him, curving his mouth downwards in a nonchalant grimace, trying to dispel the thoughts from his head, trying to focus on the present.

The older man only keeps his eyes on the nothingness ahead, as if he can see a ghost in his mind’s eye.

A ghost that with a knife in her hand and his neck within reach chose to scar him, a ghost that with a smile talked in a foreign tongue and promised him suffering and death.

“She made you promise her my head, didn’t she? And you agreed,” Stithulf chuckles, and he almost sounds proud, “Too smart for her own good, that witch. And too beautiful for ours.”

Ivar doesn’t bother hiding his disgust, toys with the idea of blinding Stithulf’s remaining eye. What was that story you told him? Walk the Underworld blind, deaf, and dumb, so that all the dead know…

Instead, he mocks, “Are you going to sit there and talk about my wife?”

“Well, I am sitting here with nowhere to go, and you aren’t talking about anything.”

“I thought you weren’t to entertain my ramblings.”

Stithulf only shrugs as well as he can with bound arms, keeping his one good eye on Ivar.

“Plans change.”

“Ah, like your plans involving your Bishop. You sent him to die to Kattegat’s border.” Ivar tells him, eyeing him from the corner of his eye as he pours himself a drink.

“Leofric? It was his choice, a choice he made once he was no longer needed. He is-…” Stithulf stops himself, considering his choice of words, and looks at Ivar inquisitively. All he offers in response is a small smile and the lift of his eyebrows over the rim of his cup. The Saxon amends, “…was a man of God, he lived by Christian teachings, he died for the Lord and so he shall be-…”

Ivar decides to ignore the rest of his words, rolling his eyes and letting his head follow the movement. For a man that claims to not be anything like Heahmund, Stithulf seems to love the sound of his own voice as much as the other man did.

But there were things Leofric said before dying that Ivar still needs answers to.

“Your Bishop, he said something about dead men breathing.” Ivar interrupts, eyeing Stithulf carefully, looking for any give in his expression.

The Saxon only stares at him, impassively, “Are you one to fear ghosts, heathen?”

He looks into his eyes, both blinded and piercing, and he doesn’t see a man. But he doesn’t see a piece on a board.

He sees a dying fire, he sees a choked flame, he sees an ending. He sees the last flickering light that’s keeping Ivar from the darkness.

And he cannot let it go out, not yet.

Even though Ivar will deny it until Valhalla calls to him, it is infuriatingly easy for you to get him to grant you whatever you wish.

You need only look at him and offer a soft and secret smile, or a touch of your hand on his arm, or a whisper of his name, and he is pathetically gone, ready to grant you whatever it will be that could keep you happy, safe.

You asked him without words to know where the place you were in was located on a map, long before he knew your name, in some old hut in Aneridge. And as if the Gods themselves moved his hand, he pointed to the location of the small town, growing a little warm at the sight of the softness in grateful eyes that looked up at him.

You ask silently for his attention with your chin resting on his shoulder, with your fingers skimming over his arm, with your hand on his. And, lovesick fool he is, he answers each of those summonses without thinking twice about it; turning to you and meeting your gaze.

And he likes to think -no, no, he knows, because he knows you, because…he knows- that in the last kiss you shared while it was still just the two of you, before the people set watchful eyes on you and the titles laid heavy on your heads; you asked him for the same thing he asks the Gods: for more time.

And so he leans forward, holding onto a knife, one of a set of five of which one still is kept safe by you.

Ivar’s eyes look into Stithulf’s grey one, and he watches the Christian squirm and groan as he retraces with the knife the scar you gave him, drawing blood and pain.

As he restarts the count, he breathes life to the dying embers.

“Run,” He tells him, the next movement of the bloodied knife cutting the rope that binds Stithulf’s legs, but not the one on his wrists. “We will meet again.”

And when the sun rises and the men wake up, they will hear him demand to know where the Christian has gone to, maybe they will even see him punish some undeserving fool.

And he will ignore Ubbe’s knowing stare, and he will set sail home and lie through his teeth, and live in this borrowed time a while longer.

Just this winter. Just one winter with you, and he’ll readily face spring and whatever it brings then.

____

Ivar never really saw love. Or experienced it. He doesn’t really know what it is like to love, or be loved, other than his mother, and Floki, maybe.

But he never witnessed it either, and that’s what he dwells on as the ships approach the docks. For a lifetime of watching, of being witness to how other men achieved the things he once believed he never could achieve himself; Ivar never really saw love.

His father was never there, and even when he was, it wasn’t love what kept him and Aslaug married. It was a quiet respect, a strange rivalry kept at bay by something other than themselves.

He hasn’t seen Sigurd in years, but even before it all fell apart, Ivar knew it wasn’t love what he and Blaeja had. It was companionship, a blend of resignation and relief at how out of all the possible outcomes, they happened to be bound to one another.

Floki did love Helga, he knows that, and he knows Helga loved him. But it was so drowned by the quiet sorrow, the way Helga would look at Floki, and it was so jarringly painful, the way Floki would look at his wife.

And Ivar still remembers the edge in that Greek’s voice as he called your name, he still remembers the look in your face as he died in your arms. But in quiet nights you’ve told him that was never love, that was illusion and guilt.

So, he doesn’t really know what love looks like, or what it is.

He doesn’t really know if the way your eyes have a strange shine to them and you smile despite yourself as you meet his gaze from the docks is love.

But he wants it to be.

And he understands the poor fool that believed every lie you told him, including that you loved him. Because you do not need speak a word other than his name, and Ivar is willing to close his eyes and pretend what you said were words of love.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, and grow angry at himself for still craving useless things, like softness, like love.

You are standing in front of him, wide smile and the faint shine of tears in your eyes, and he realizes in the quiet that you bring that he has had this small voice whispering that it would all turn out to be a mirage all this time.

Because this is real, because this is his; Ivar’s hand is certain on the back of your head, and he brings you to him and claims your mouth.

There’s a soft sound against his lips that sends a thrill of warmth down his spine, and your hands are warm against him as your mouth moves against his own, as you surrender to his kiss.

In the warmth you bring he realizes there truly was a part of him that believed that when he returned everything that had changed before he left would turn out to be nothing but a dream.

Your hands are on his chest, and your eyes focus on them for a few moments before you lift your gaze up to him.

“I missed you, Ivar.” You tell him, quietly, easily. You say it in a breath, as if it is simple. And it is simple, he gathers, though it doesn’t feel like simple in the way his chest pulls tight at the words.

He leans down and kisses you again, seals those words against his own lips, finds a way to make the promise they whisper more than words. And he kisses you -or you kiss him, he doesn’t think he minds the difference- until your lips are bearing the mark of him, and your breaths are labored.

You blink, dazedly, as if awakening from a dream, and it feels Ivar with pride to be able to disarm you, at least partly.

“How many…how many injured?” You ask, for the first time looking around you, “Your brother, is he…?”

“He’s well,” He tells you, and searches your eyes before adding, “Stithulf still lives.”

And Ivar may not know what love looks like, but he does know what relief looks like. And that surely shines in your eyes at his words.

____ ____ ____

Hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!!

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[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: none really but the reader is a tsundere, and there’s some vague awful knowledge on how horse ranches operate. 

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The next two weeks were about as awkward as one would expect them to be. Even without their already tense history with each other, it wouldn’t exactly be a situation that would be any easier to adjust to. For god's sake, he was hiding out in Texas and was wanted for treason against his former organisation. What about that was supposed to be easy for him?

The two of you had largely avoided each other during this time, sometimes even barely seeing each other during the day. For the first couple of days, Jack had spent most of his time upstairs at your insistence, in order to properly let his wounds heal. No matter how much he protested against you, you weren’t having a single second of his nonsense and told him rather firmly that it was for his own good to stay up there. Those were the days where he’d found himself utterly bored out of his brain - there were only so many books that were kept in that little guest bedroom, and even though the thought had crossed his mind a few times he’d already swore to you he wouldn’t go poking through the closets for anything.

When you’d finally deemed him in good enough shape to help around the ranch, then things had gotten better. Or at least, they’d gotten less boring. No matter what a part of his mind instinctually lingered on Statesman, whether that be on how so many years of loyalty to the organisation ended in a crashing blaze or how long he would have before they were able to track him down. He didn’t give himself much time on the run - a few months maximum if he was lucky before they inevitably caught onto him one way or another. Sometimes he wondered what the point of running even was if he believed so thoroughly that Statesman would catch up to him. The only answer he could ever give for himself to that was four simple words: I have to try. It may be a longshot, he may spend the rest of his life evading his former agency at every turn but goddamn he had to at least try to get away from it all. The things he’d done in Cambodia, the threat of death ever looming over him. He’d gotten lucky once escaping with his life, so who’s to say that couldn’t happen again? 

Stealing a brief glance over to where you were only metres away from him, cleaning out one of the older horses stalls, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. There was no doubt in his mind that you loathed him for what he did, and rightfully so he had to admit. The few words you had exchanged with each other during this time were terse and brief, and were mainly condensed to matters with looking after the animals or mundane things like asking where the keys were. Even from the start your demeanour hadn’t been remarkably bright, which in a way struck him as odd. You certainly weren’t the same girl he remembered dating years ago. Jack never expected you to be happy at his return into your life but there was something more too - even when you weren’t around him, when you were putting on a happy face for the different guests and customers something was missing still. When Jack had first met you, you were still only in college, and while on the surface you had that same snark that he found himself loving more and more about you with every time you’d spoken, there was also a sense of innocence there. He remembered how your moral code was always focused on doing the right thing, how you wanted to believe that deep down everyone had some good in them. It was something he’d admired about you - even back then he was jaded by the world, having witnessed so much wickedness firsthand both through his position at Statesman and from his own life before that. Some would call you naive for having that much faith in humanity, but he’d found it endlessly endearing. 

He wasn’t inclined to say that you no longer believed in doing what’s right - you had taken him in when there was nowhere else to turn. But that brightness in your eyes, the unwavering trust you’d always been willing to give. That was what was gone, extinguished like it was never even there to begin with. He had to wonder if he was largely responsible for this change, if the reason you’d become so passingly apathetic and distrustful was because of his actions. Most likely that was the case, and from what you’d said a couple of weeks back about your parents passing away it was no wonder you were no longer that spunky wide-eyed girl from Texas, that you had become so sullen and moody. A lot had clearly happened in those seven years of silence, and for that he felt truly remorseful for how he’d hurt you.

You hadn’t mentioned that night so far, so a part of Jack felt willing to leave things as is and only focus on being as little of a hassle to you as possible during this time. If you mention the breakup you run the risk of making things worse, he reasoned with himself. As much as he wanted to apologise, explain himself a little bit, he knew that you were never going to believe a word he said. You believed him to be nothing more than a lying son of a bitch who was only interested in the thrill of the chase and not ever after anything truly committed. He could still hear those cutting remarks slip from your lips as if it were only yesterday. “You know what you are? You’re a fucking liar, Jack Daniels. What happened to forever and always? Or did you forget that?”. 

“Hey, Jack, there should be a new delivery of fresh hay coming through for the horses in the next couple of minutes. Do me a favour and go greet them for me, will ya?” he heard your voice ring out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. “Sure thing, darlin’” he nodded, setting aside the bag of grain he’d been giving each of the horses and stepping aside over towards the stables entrances, only just missing the hasty look you shot him out the corner of his eye.

___

You didn’t know what had come over you. All morning you had been distracted by him, your eyes wandering over to where he was feeding the horses, running his hand across their manes and giving them a gentle pet. Jack had always been great with animals, something the both of you had in common. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you continued to direct your focus on raking out all manner of gunk and mess from the stalls, somewhat annoyed to even be reminiscing on such long forgotten things. Normally you were level headed and focused but ever since Jack had appeared back in your life out of the blue things had gotten a tad stranger for you. It didn’t surprise you in the least that his presence in your house ignited old memories, coaxing out both the bitter and bright from their place dormant at the back of your mind. The two of you had barely said a word to each other in those two weeks and yet here you were, being plagued by ghosts of the past. You wondered if Jack felt the same way, if he could also feel the awkward tension ripe between you. In your opinion, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice.

It didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought you’d long since moved on from the pain he’d caused you, focusing on maintaining a steady rhythm and pace in your own life and being far too busy with the ranch to even let your thoughts wander to your ex-boyfriend. With him around though, it was bringing everything back, almost as if none of it had ever left in the first place. Safe to say, all of it made you more than a bit agitated

But you couldn’t have just left him out there to fend for himself. No, you weren’t heartless, and taking him in was the right thing to do. You could handle the irritating flashbacks and echoes as long as it meant he was safe and alive. And besides, this was only temporary. He’d no doubt find somewhere else to jet off to in a matter of weeks and leave you to return back to your normal routine. It was odd having someone else in the house anyway, after spending so many years alone. Suddenly you had to be considerate for someone else, integrating them into your own routine, your way of life.

And, truth be told, a small part of you didn’t mind the company one bit. Not that you’d ever say that outloud of course. No, you’d rather kill yourself before admitting to anyone, lest Jack himself, that you actually liked having someone else around. Even if words exchanged were few and far between, there was an element of comfort to having someone stay with you. Though you largely chalked this small feeling up to spending too long in solitude. 

Another thing that had taken you by surprise was Jack’s behaviour. You’d fully expected to have to once again deal with his antics, the annoying and frustratingly devilish charm he exuded in every quick witted remark, that smirk of his you’d come to know so well that once upon a time was enough to make you bend to him, and you’d prepared yourself the best you could to combat him back. You were determined to not let him get under your skin and not be taken in by his charm: you knew better now. Strange as it was though, none of that ever ended up coming to pass. In the few interactions you did have with each other a day, Jack was being mostly polite and keeping to himself. Sure, there were a few banter-like comments sprinkled here and there, this was Jack Daniels after all, but they were few and far between. He still hadn’t told you the finer details of what had happened between him and those other agents but it must have been enough to knock him down a few pegs in the ego department judging by his demeanour. That, or he felt the stifling awkwardness between you two and felt it best to dial himself back a bit. Maybe it was a mix of both. You really couldn’t say for sure though. 

Shaking your head, you shifted focus back on to the list of tasks you needed to get through that day before the ranch opened for business. It was around seven in the morning, and opening hours were from eight-thirty to six, and it was a Wednesday so business was moderate. You had a couple of kids booked for riding lessons later on as well as some people coming to rent out specific horses for rides, plus a doctor coming to look at one of the pregnant mares for a checkup. Not exactly what you would call a hectic day but still not a walk in the park either. You also had a couple of deliveries coming in that day, speaking of which, you remembered, one was scheduled to arrive in only a few moments.

You shouted out for Jack to go meet with the delivery guy, and you watched him as he sauntered out of the stables in search of the van, your eyes catching a glimpse of that ridiculous oversized belt buckle of his as it glinted in the early morning light. There were some things about that man you just never understood, his affinity for that tacky buckle being one of them. 

You turned your attention back to your current task of cleaning out the horses stalls. Years ago when you were a young kid you’d turned up your nose at the idea of having to shove around manure and urine soaked hay twice a day, though years passed and you barely even noticed or cared about the grossness of the stench. Shoving the last bits of hay into a large plastic garbage bag, you turned back over to where the old mare was standing in the corner, looking disinterested as usual and blew on a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “Looks like I’m all done here, Jack should be back with the hay for you in a moment” you mused, to which the animal in question lightly grunted back at you, as if it could understand exactly what you’d just said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know old girl. Just sit tight, ok?” you replied, stepping out of the stall and dragging the gate behind you, clearing the latch click just as Jack walked back in with an armful of hay bales. “I got the guy unloading the rest from his van, this should last ya a little over two weeks” he informed you, eliciting a general nod in his direction as a reply. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Just put it over by the door and I’ll sort it out in a bit” you instructed, looking down at your wristwatch for the time. 7:40 am - perfectly on schedule. The rest of your employees would be arriving soon, so tasks would be able to be knocked out faster too. 

The low sound of a yawn pulled you from your thoughts as you looked up over to where Jack was stacking the bales of hay, lightly rubbing a hand over his face. “Tired are we, Jack?” you commented, raising your brow slightly at him. 

“A little” he admitted. “Forgot to make myself a coffee this mornin’, and truth be told I didn’t get the best sleep last night”. 

“Is everything alright up there? I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable” you said, a little bit of sarcasm working its way into your tone. You just couldn’t help it, and in your mind, he well deserved every little lick of ire you could throw his way. 

“Everythings perfect, darlin’, I’m just...my mind tends to wander late at night. Things to do with Statesman and such, nothin’ for you to really be concerned about” he dismissed, shifting on his heel towards where the delivery man was bringing in the last of the stock he’d brought over. You didn’t move a single step, instead watching him thank the man and take the supplies off him, a small feeling of sympathy sparking that you quickly shrugged off like it was nothing. People dealt with insomnia all the time, you reasoned. And he said himself that it was nothing to worry about so that was that.

Neither of you said a word for the next couple of minutes, yet some part of the conversation was still at the back of your mind. You didn’t understand why - it was a pretty mundane exchange of words overall however you couldn’t help but still feel you needed to say something more.

“Sometimes I find it hard to sleep too. Usually that’s when I get up and go get a book or something. Anything that works as a distraction to whatever's on my mind” you found yourself saying out of nowhere. You could feel Jack glance over at you but you didn’t meet his gaze, keeping your own eyes trained down on the floor that you were sweeping. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then” you heard him say in response, to which you acknowledged him with a small nod and a slight side glance. In an instant afterwards, you minorly chastised yourself for saying something so stupid and random to him. Great, now you’ve made it even more awkward. You should have just kept your mouth shut. Even still, it was hard to miss that sweet look in Jack’s eyes when he’d replied back, when your eyes had met briefly for that small moment.

___

The loud sound of incessant beeping awoke you from your deep slumber, the noise becoming more and more grating with each second that passed. Mumbling under your breath you reached your hand out from underneath the sheets to flick the alarm off, your eyes only just beginning to adjust to the room around you as the last remnants of your dream melted away into nothing, being replaced by the stark wooden panelling of the walls and the feeling of textured quilt on the edge of your feet. There was barely any light in the room as the sun hadn’t come up yet, and wouldn’t rise for another fifteen minutes or so, leaving your vision time to adjust to the world around you as you rose up in bed and sighed.

Every morning it seemed you told yourself that you needed a vacation, a couple of days off to get away from it all and kick back a little. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself in the thought - taking a plane off to somewhere and not coming back for a couple of weeks. You never actually did it though, not due to a lack of finances but moreso that you didn’t even know what you’d do with yourself with all that time. As much as ranch work dragged on some days, the methodical nature of it kept you grounded and focused. What the hell were you supposed to do without it?

Shuffling off to the edge of the bed, you fumbled around for a pair of socks in your bedside drawer and slipped them onto your feet, your mind starting to wander off to that ever present list of tasks and chores you kept for yourself. The harder you thought on it, the more muddled your brain seemed to get. Leave the to-do list for after you’ve had coffee.

Your body was practically on autopilot as you moved out into the hallway and down the stairs, wanting to hurry to get that invigorating rush that caffeine gave you. The actual taste of the drink you were never totally partial to, truth be told: drinking it had more to do with the fact it woke you up and made you feel less like wanting to die every early morning. No matter how many years passed or long you kept doing this for, you just never became a morning person.

You didn’t notice it at first when you’d reached for two mugs instead of one out of the cupboard, only really caring about attempting to make yourself a coffee as fast as possible that hopefully wasn’t totally shitty in quality. You didn’t notice when you loaded up the espresso machine that you put enough coffee in for two instead of one, or when you put in extra milk in the frother. Really, it only had come to your attention that you’d done any of those things when you suddenly stared back at the kitchen counter and noticed two full mugs of coffee instead of one.

Staring back and forth between the two, you felt your brow crease while you moved your hand up to your neck, lightly rubbing on the back. Huh. Guess I must be really spaced this morning if I made two. As if on cue, you started to hear the sounds of Jack stirring upstairs, and without a second thought you grabbed both mugs in your hand and glided over towards the kitchen table, setting them both down and taking a seat in one of the well worn chairs.

“Hey. I made two by accident. You can have the other one I guess” you announced while watching him transcend down the stairs, gesturing vaguely over towards the other mug. You saw Jack glance up at you, his mussed hair and semi-dazed expression showing that he was probably half asleep still. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself yet, wearing the tight fitting white t-shirt you’d managed to fish out from a back cupboard somewhere and a pair of equally plain pajama pants. He looked...good, somehow, though you weren’t about to say that outloud. You could only imagine the smug self-satisfied smirk that type of remark would garner. 

He slowly walked up towards the table and gently scooped up the mug in his hand, running his thumb over the edge lightly. “Accident, huh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were starting to warm up to me a little” he teased. You rolled your eyes back at him and took another sip of coffee. “Oh, shut up”.

[chaotic-txt]

Easier to stay, easier to go

Soobin x Reader | Drabble | Angst

Warning/s: None.

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It was about time that you finally got back.

You were back again at your same old, worn out apartment where the lights are dim and flickering every moment, where the ceilings are full of dust and cracks, walls with paint flaking out of the surface and a fairly clean space.

The place isn’t exactly what you could call home, but you figured that it’ll do as a roof above your head. It has never been one anyway, constant fights and heated arguments occured every now and then, words being thrown at each other were much like gun firing bullets, piercing deep within flesh. Either it ends badly—with the neighbors banging against your thin walls because of the noise—or, one would leave the place and then come back after some time.

In this case, it was you who left with a heavy heart, clouded mind and a tear-stained face. Coming back at that same place felt like it was years since you have stayed there that standing inside seemed that a wash of nostalgia suddenly hit you, and it was not the good kind.

Your reminiscence with the rest of the previous events before you walked out of the apartment was broken by lazy footsteps that trudged upon the floor. The owner of those feet was met by your figure right by the doorstep, standing meekly and not knowing what to do. Usually, when one comes back after the fight, the other would come towards them with guilt written on their face and arms spread wide to engulf them in a tight hug. They’d be worried sick and would inspect thoroughly to check the other isn’t hurt, before coming for another embrace that would melt their worries away.

But there was none of that right now.

After Soobin saw your form and seemed to only spare just a glance at you, he went back to the kitchen right where he have been for the past few hours. There were no signs of recognition, no hugs, no whispers of apologies and sweet, hushed phrases to make up for the dispute that had broken out between the two of you. He just left you there like your presence was not much of a big deal for him, like your presence was not there at all and that you haven’t been gone for almost a week or two prior.

And somewhere within your heart hurt like it was squeezed to death. This was the first time he had done something like that; feigned ignorance and just simply moving on to continue on his dull and gloomy day. This was not the Soobin you knew, and the fight was yet to be over and done with.

As you approached the kitchen, sounds of cluttering dishes and utensils were heard along with the sound of the running tap water by the sink. Soobin’s back was facing you as he washed used plates and empty glasses in absolute silence. Empty soju bottles were beside him, maybe 5 to 7 bottles that were drank on different days considering that he doesn’t have such high alcohol tolerance to down them in just one go.

The mere thought have made you uneasy. Soobin was never a drinker. You know him too well to tell that he would rather discuss the problem than resorting to drinking and downing shots after shots, drowning his bladder with the alcoholic substance. However, as the months went by, he was pushed to a point where he had to raise his voice and so were you, until it became words that you never thought would ever leave your own mouth or his. Time changed you both, from two people who cherished each other to mere and total strangers who couldn’t care less with who was bound to get hurt. And you knew that from the recent fight that happened, it was your fault. Anger was what blinded and fueled you to say such things that hurt Soobin deeply.

As a way of showing how terribly sorry you were for leaving him that night, you made your way towards the tall male and slowly brought your arms to wrap around his torso from behind him.

He paused. You felt as though he was not finding any comfort from your affection no matter how you tried to convey your unspoken words of apology and regret, and that didn’t make things hurt less. It was blatantly wrong to always brush off the problems and you were silently admitting to yourself that things have gone way too overboard. It was that or there was something more that you have to be sorry for that you couldn’t just get off your chest. At the back of your mind, you knew you owe him a big apology.

The moment the last plate was placed aside to dry off, Soobin detached your arms from him. You stood there watching him go around the room, grabbing his own jacket and ruffling his hair as if to slightly disarrange it. You panicked. It was at that point that you reached out to him, finding yourself bolting towards the door to block his way and stop him from leaving.

“Soobin, I want to talk with you, please.”

He gave you a look, one that was quite unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. How he managed to stare at you for a little longer than he would have liked was a question he could not find an answer to. He was supposed to be mad at you, he was supposed to resent you as if your entire being chokes him to the point that he would want to leave immediately. Instead, he did not feel such emotions towards you as your eyes pleaded him to stay.

With that, his gaze gradually softened, in which he tried to hide under his dark fringes that were slightly covering his vision. He didn’t want for you to see him hesitating, he didn’t want you to know that you and your dewy eyes had that effect on him. It was enough to make him stay easily just as how it was easy for you to leave him once and every time that you two fight.

How did the both of you reach this point?

“Soobin...I, I know you’re mad at me for leaving– for all of the things that I've said that night. I didn’t—I didn’t mean any of those, Soobin, please believe me,” you muttered, forcing to swallow down the sobs that lodged itself inside your throat. Your heart were shaken by the tremors, fearing that your words had fallen upon deaf ears.

“Just let me leave, Y/N—”

“No, no please,” a whimper escaped your lips as you desperately attached yourself to Soobin, clinging onto him for your dear life with tears soaking right through his shirt, “Let’s not do this anymore, let’s fix this...”

“This is beyond repair, Y/N,” his eyes locked on to yours, holding your shoulders back, “this isn’t something that you could just mend and patch up so easily.

Not when you’ve already involved someone else when it's supposed to be just you and me.”

With his words, your eyes reflected confusion. Soobin mistook it for something else, that perhaps you were acting dumb in front of him, acting as if what he said wasn’t true, or if you were truly and genuinely confused just as a tiny part of him was—he honestly didn't know, because how could he still trust you after what happened? How will he believe you without any doubt creeping and lurking at the back of his mind?

“The night you left—the night when I was insisting for us to just sit down and talk things like rational alduts because I was so tired of arguing, the night when you were so full of your pent-up anger and I was ready to apologize even though you’ve hurt me with the things you said—I dashed out to find you. I didn’t stop searching, I didn’t waste a second in hopes that if I looked hard enough, I’ll soon find you.”

A wry laugh escaped his mouth, a poor attempt of masking how he was slowly breaking in front of you. Tears were brimming at his eyelids, pain flashing within his pool of dark irises. Remembering what he saw that time was a stab through his heart, a gut-wrenching pain as he tried his hardest to suppress his surging emotions—he has had enough. A whole week or two was enough for him to dwell deeper on it.

“But then—” he choked on a sob, “—I saw you with someone else. I saw you with him, Y/N.”

Memories of that moment came rushing inside your head. You were taken back to that Thursday night with Taehyun, sitting upon the stool of some small stand right by the street, leaning in slowly close to you. With one last look through your eyes—soft and gentle, a thing you were uncertain if it was because of his tipsy state or if it was true and genuine—he closed the gap, allowing both of your lips to touch each other's as your eyes then fluttered shut.

You stood there dazed as it played over and over again, staring blankly at the male that has now allowed his tears to cascade down his cheeks. Your grip tightened desperately, knowing what was going on inside Soobin’s head. You tried to formulate something, anything, but alas, your words got caught up in your throat and your mind went completely blank. Now, he knew your secret that’s been haunting you ever since it happened, a reason why you never came back for days straight while Soobin was left alone to worry over you. To contemplate about things, to decide that it’s finally time to leave, and how things would be much easier for him to stop dealing with what’s hurting him.

In just a blink of an eye, you’re about to lose something good that has happened in your life.

Seconds were now dragging into minutes and as silence still remained, Soobin was already tugging at your hands to pry them off of his jacket. It was hard to commit such action as he finally had you within his reach, yet he still chose to push you away despite his heart telling him to pull you close. It was a hard thing to do, but with the given circumstance, it was either he stay just like the fool that he is, or he goes.

And he chose the latter, something that you’re finding very hard to believe, something that you’re not allowing for it to happen. So you went with what your mind commanded you to do, as fast as you could, not long after the male had taken a few feet away from you. You kissed him, tiptoeing just so you could reach for his lips, molding them together as you cupped his cheeks eagerly. Your movements were a bit rushed, but there was the pressure to it, afraid that if you were to let a distance slip in, he would pull away so quickly out from your grasp.

Soobin, on the other hand, was left there standing idly. A warm tug at his chest presented itself as he felt your lips on his own, bringing back memories of the days where nothing went wrong, where it’s just only bliss and contentment, smiles and laughters. He missed it, basking in the feeling of having you close like this, pressed on to him without the need to let go; just the warm, fuzzy jitters as he gets lost by the fervent gliding of your lips.

His mind then began begging—screaming for him to push you away, to stop what you were doing to him as to also stop himself from letting you in again, to stop being frail and weak with just a mere kiss. But his heart, it never forgets. It only wants more, longing and yearning for more than what he have hoped and wished for and it was this moment. The day he has you in his arms once again, just as where you should be.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his hands have already pushed you by the wall and he responded with such passion that he could not hold back. Soobin moved his lips along with yours, catching up with the pace and rhythm of it. It all came back to him, the memories he thought that he have already forgotten—how soft the texture your lips felt on his and how you tasted like peach and vanilla on a hot Summer day, something that he could never resist. You tasted like the sweet first love that has struck him, you tasted like the fresh first drink of water that had replenished his parched throat...and yet somewhere in between, it changes.

What started as sweet, blooming love morphed into a bittersweet reality. And then he remembers, these were the pair of lips that touched another, and that you tasted like infidelity.

With a parting sob after he disconnects his lips from your own, Soobin leaned his forehead on yours. With this proximity, you could finally see the details on his face better than before—his thick, well-accentuated brows knitted together, his long and damped lashes, his porcelain soft cheeks, his lower lip that was jutting out and quivers so slightly. The image broke you—a visage etched with pain and misery this relationship has put him through—a reminder that this was what you have caused him.

You’ve hurt him severely, a deep cut that would surely leave a scar, uncertain if it will ever heal and stop from bleeding.

Why does it have to come to this?

“I’m sorry...I’m really sorry, Soobin...I’m so, so sorry...”

And just then, Soobin asked himself: why is it still easy for him to stay?