#i need someone 2 drag me kicking and screaming into a new media until i start getting invested

[clembian]

i fear i will never stop being abnormal about dsmp

[dreamescapeswriting]

Couples Retreat ~ KSJ [M] [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 6.1K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluff, smut (fluffy smut) mentions of cheating Namjoon, fluff, a TINY angst

↬↬↬Pairing: Seokjin x reader

↬↬↬A/n: Okay I had a lot of fun with this one and I normally don’t say that about fluff, I’ve been trying to work on my writing style so let me know what you think and I hope this is okay for you love

The small car that you were travelling in pulled into the snow-filled driveway and you were in 'awe' already of the small log cabin in front of you it was gorgeous and looked like something from a Christmas movie. It was pitch black outside since you'd come out in the dead of night but there were fairy lights lining the triangle roofing that was shining through despite being covered by snow you were sure that if it was snowing right now the scene would be something straight out of a snowglobe. 

"I'll get the bags, go inside," Jin said as he handed you a small silver key, by the bags he meant your bags because this was going to be a peaceful weekend alone for you. The bags were also filled with mostly his clothes and parts of yours he'd found around the dorms back home, you couldn't go back to get your own. Not after how you'd found the house. You were never going to go back there for as long as you lived, too many images and too many bad memories.

"Thanks again Jin this is- this is whoa." You whispered struggling to think of words on how to thank him for everything he was doing and everything he'd been doing since finding out the news about you and Namjoon or rather what Namjoon had done. 

"I told you it's what friends are for." You sighed, he'd been saying that the entire drive up but it didn't make any of it easier. You wanted to thank him properly for this it was supposed to be your weekend away with Namjoon but after what you walked in on him doing you doubted that there would ever be and you and Namjoon again. You flicked on the light switch inside the cabin and it lit everything up, the lounge and kitchen were joint together while the two bedrooms were split between a giant fireplace in the middle each with their own en-suite inside. It was like the perfect little getaway place. 

You'd had one of the worst days at work that you could have had, your boss had done nothing but hound you about some report that was due but it wasn't within your jurisdiction to write it. Instead, it was down to the intern that he was fucking to do but she was too busy getting her rocks off to even bother with it so it was passed down to you. All you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed beside Namjoon and sleep away until you could leave on your romantic getaway the next day, 

"What the-" The front door was locked which was odd because Namjoon only locked the door when he was going to the studio and he'd told you he wasn't going there today. That he was going to spend the day packing up your bags for the weekend away at Jin's family winter cabin. The keys in the door jingled with all of the keychains that you had on them and you frowned seeing Namjoon's coat and shoes by the front door so he was obviously home. You took your keys from the door and bent down to pick up the post as you shut the door behind you, 

"Namjoon? Are you home?" You called out to an empty apartment, you were about to head into the living room when you heard something bang upstairs from the bedroom. You dropped the keys into the bowl at the bottom of the stairs and kicked off your shoes as you flicked through the letters you had in your hand. 

"Namjoon I was thinking we could head up to Jin's early? I'm feeling really deflated from work." You laughed it off as you stared at all of the letters while opening the door. You hadn't even noticed at first until you heard a scream, you looked up to see him naked with another woman. 

"N-Namjoon?" Your voice broke and the letters dropped onto the floor as you came to the realisation of what they were doing in the bed together, you stumbled backwards into the door and tried to make a quick retreat out of the house. 

"Y/n wait!" Namjoon called trying to get out of the tangled sheets and come after you but you were already out into the street as he reached the front door. 

"Y/n!"

"Don't! Don't Namjoon," You turned around to see him standing there in nothing but a sheet, all you could see when you looked at him was him in the bed with her. In your bed where you should have been,

"Y/n please don't walk away from me," You scoffed at how he was acting, as if he was the hurt one in this situation. You opened up your car door right as the blonde he'd been with came to the door and shouted Namjoon to come back to her, you stared at him as if daring him to go back to her. You wanted to know what he was going to do, throw 5 years of a relationship away for some hookup or try to make it even remotely okay with you? His back slowly turning towards the door gave you the answer you'd been dreading and you got into the car. 

Tears filled your eyes as you pulled into Jin's driveway, you had no idea if he would even be home or if he'd be alone you just had to get out of the house and away from Namjoon. 

"Jin?!" You called out as you frantically banged on the door waiting for an answer but there was nothing. 

"Jin?" Your voice trembled as you finally succumbed to the tears that had been threatening to spill since the moment you left your driveway that night. Everything about seeing him with her kept rushing back to your head when you tried to close your eyes, you just wanted to get the image out of there. But the way she called out his name when she stood at the door...as if she owned the place.

"Fuck," You sobbed rolling down the door and bringing your knees into your chest as your lip began to tremble you finally let out a shaky breath as you cried into your knees. 

"Y/n?" You heard Jin's voice call out, he'd heard you whimpering when he got out of his car and he found you curled up in a ball on his doorstep. 

"What are you doing here? Where's Nam-" He stood himself from asking that last question when he saw your tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. 

"Can...Can I come in?" He nodded and helped you up from the floor, walking behind you with his hand on the small of your back. You hadn't told him anything but he could tell whatever it was wasn't good. 

"There are fresh towels in the bathroom for you, and I think I had someone stock up the fridges and cupboards so you'll be okay for food," Jin said as the grand tour of the log cabin came to an end. Your arms were wrapped around you tightly, you were standing in one of his hoodies and some sweatpants of Jimin's. All of the clothes you were going to bring were back at the house and you'd begged Jin not to take you back there. Instead, he took you to the dorms to grab clothes from there and then drove you straight up into the mountains promising you it would help get your mind off things. If Namjoon had been the one to bring you up here - like he was supposed to - Jin wouldn't have needed to come but you'd never been and so he wanted to make sure you knew your way around. You knew it was going to mostly get away from the media that was going to be spread soon enough, there was no doubt in your mind that whoever it was that had been with Namjoon was going to tell everyone she knew that she'd been with him. 

"I feel bad if I send you home tonight Jin, it's late." You whispered to him as you noticed him getting his car keys from his pocket. It was 2 am and the roads were going to start getting icy, you didn't want to risk him getting hurt just because you needed the getaway. 

"I'll stay the night and then I'll leave you to it, I have to go and have words with him." You knew how Jin was feeling, he'd voiced his opinion the moment you told him what Namjoon was doing or rather who he was doing. He didn't want to leave you there alone though, he didn't want you to think that you had to go through all of this alone. He wanted you to be able to talk to him about anything without worrying about him going back to Namjoon and talking about you because he wouldn't do that.

"You should get some sleep, it's been a long day for you." He told you as he nodded over to the main room of the house, you'd already been inside when he gave you the tour. 

The room was huge and in the middle was a four-poster bed with red silk sheets on the top, 

"I put some of Yoongi's basketball shorts in for you to sleep in," Jin explained pointing at the suitcase that was by the end of the bed, you thanked him once again before saying goodnight to him, he shut the door on you and went to the other room to get some sleep.

You laid there awake for what felt like hours until you finally sat up, the sun was just starting to peek through all of the trees that were surrounding the house which meant it was probably around 6:30 in the morning and you hadn't slept a wink all night. You couldn't though, every time you closed your eyes it was like you were back in that room with them but it seemed to drag on forever in your mind. Every blink made you think of the way he looked at her, it was the way he used to look at you. You didn't think he was unhappy, as far as you knew everything was perfect between you and Namjoon until now then your mind wandered to how long this had been going on for behind your back, how long he and her had been laughing about everything you did. It was too much and you had to stop thinking about it. 

Sliding out from under the silk sheets you grabbed some shorts from the suitcase and another one of Jin's oversized hoodies and made a beeline for the en-suite, you'd been dying to use that shower with the jets since the moment you walked into the en-suite and saw them all sitting there.

The door to Jin's room opened and he grumbled something as he came out, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to wake himself up. 

"Morning, I made coffee. Do you want some breakfast?" He was shocked to hear you so cheerful this morning, he was sure he was going to come out and find you crying on the floor but you seemed to be putting on a good face. 

"I'll take a coffee for the road," You made an 'urm' sound as you tried to think of a way to tell him that he wouldn't go going anywhere anytime soon when he heard the radio talking in the background, 

''That's right folks if you're up there in the mountains expect to be snowed in for the weekend as there's a snowstorm coming this way. Keep your winter socks on and get settled in front of the fireplace as it's going to be a cold one." You turned back to look at Jin who nodded, he was used to being snowed in up here so it was no big deal to him. 

"Looks like I'm hijacking your weekend, I'm sorry." You shook your head at him promising him that it was fine. In a way, you were relieved not to have to go through this weekend alone and spend every waking moment wondering about Namjoon back home, you and Jin got along great so it would be just like hanging out with a friend. 

"I'll take breakfast, what are we having?" You softly smiled at him and shrugged your shoulders.

"What do you fancy?" You opened up the fridge, he wasn't kidding when he said someone had stopped by to stock it up. The only time you'd ever seen a fridge so full of food was whenever you went grocery shopping with Namjoon. 

"Whenever we had snow days as kids my mum would make pancakes." You grabbed milk and eggs from the fridge and went hunting for flour in the cupboards. 

"Why was I cursed with such tiny limbs?!" You cried out upon seeing the flour on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, Jin chuckled from behind you as he watched you struggling to climb onto the countertop and get the flour. 

"Want a hand?"

"I've got it, I've got it." You didn't have it, in fact, you were never going to have it because you couldn't even manage to get one leg onto the counter. Jin's presence was only let known when he stood really close to you and reached up to get it for you. 

"Thanks." You whispered turning around in his arms and taking the bag of flour from him, he smiled down at you just now noticing how your eyes seemed to highlight your face very well. 

"Anytime," His voice sounded like it could make the angels sing, it was a lot like his singing voice but you'd never noticed until you were this close to one another. You cleared your throat and went on to continue making the pancakes that he'd asked for. 

After the kitchen encounter, Jin tried to stay away from being that close to you again. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable with him being there but he wasn't going to lie to himself and say that having you right there wasn't nice. He kept imagining himself bending down to kiss you, pushing some of the hair from your face and holding you there while you made breakfast together, he shook his head trying to get the image out of his brain. You'd just broken up with Namjoon and he was supposed to be there for moral support instead of trying to kiss you.

"Jin!" He sat up from the sofa in a panic and dropped the book he was holding, you sounded scared and he was panicking thinking something had happened to you. He burst through the bedroom door to see you clinging onto one of the bedposts while pointing at the floor. 

"Spider!" He screamed jumping onto the bed beside you and holding onto the same bedpost, 

"What are you doing?! Get the spider!" You whined looking at it as it crawled along the floor towards the en-suite, you'd come in to get changed when you saw it chilling right next to your suitcase. 

"What if we just give it the log cabin as a sign of gratitude for not eating us!?" It didn't help that both of you were deathly afraid of all creepy bugs and that thing shouldn't even be classified as one, it was far too large to be classified as a bug. Might as well call it a pet.

"Could put a saddle on it and ride it down the mountain." A shiver ran up your spine as you spoke watching it walk into the en-suite, Jin watched as you carefully got down from the bed and shakily took a class from the bedside table, 

"What..What are you doing?" He stuttered out joining you back on the floor as you crept over to the bathroom door, 

"Saving us from burning the entire log cabin down." You whispered as if the spider could hear you both and somehow catch on to what you were about to do. 

"Deep breath," You whispered to yourself but Jin did one for you, 

"Not you stupid," You grumbled quickly pouncing onto the floor and placing the cup on top of the spider, 

"JIN PAPER QUICK!" You squealed watching as the poor guy tried to get out of the glass in your hand, Jin rushed around the room looking for something to use when he found some. 

"Thanks," He pushed himself against the wall as you carefully picked up the spider, cup and paper combo and walked out of the bedroom in the direction of the front door. You knew spiders couldn't survive in snow so you headed straight to the trees and place the combination of items onto it before running away and slamming the door shut behind you. 

"I didn't want to kill him...he could have had a family." Jin stared at the back of your head as you felt empathy for a spider, his facial expression softened as he watched you watching the cup for a couple of minutes before going back to your own room to do something else. He couldn't help but think about how cute you were when you did all of that, especially when he knew you were just afraid of all bugs like him. 

"What are you doing?" You questioned later in the night when you heard Jin clattering around in the kitchen, you turned away from the book you were holding to see him pan in his hand as well as trying to carry other ingredients. 

"Hot chocolate, come help." You closed the book you were reading and walked over to him to see what needed to be done, 

"Get me a gallon of milk from the fridge and then the cinnamon from the spice rack." You gave him a sarcastic salute before walking away to get the ingredients he'd asked you for. 

"Carefully pour the milk in here." He tapped the pot and watched you pour the huge bottle of milk right into the pan while he began weighing out everything else you needed, 

"Can you get the cocoa powder-" He stopped talking when he saw you staring at him blankly, 

"You're taller you get it." He smirked knowing you were still annoyed that everything you needed was on the higher shelves of the cabin, it was the same with the book you'd picked out to read. It had been on the tallest shelf and you couldn't get it down resulting in you waking Jin up from a nap to get it for you. 

"If we're making hot chocolate can we bake as well?" You questioned looking over his shoulder at the stocked cupboards, there was enough in there to make an entire army a bunch of cookies, cakes and still have room left over. 

"Sure, find a recipe online." You took out your phone and the smile from your face fell off. You had calls from Namjoon sitting there, texts and even alerts on twitter to tell you the latest news story updates. It was out in the world that you and Namjoon broke up, photos of him dressed in nothing but a sheet were splashed around the internet and while you felt bad that they were out there in a way he deserved it for what he'd done for you. 

"What is it- Oh." Jin's voice fell flat, he'd forgotten that the rest of the world even existed outside of the cabin with you and it was all coming back to him that you were one of his friend's ex-girlfriends and he was cosying up to you. 

"It's fine. I'm okay," And you were, spending time with Jin was starting to take your mind off of it all, you never thought it would like this but if this was what was helping to keep you distracted you would keep on at it. 

"Let's bake okay?" He told you poking your cheek with a spoon as he awaited more instructions on what you needed from the cupboard in order to make the best cookies he was ever going to have in his entire life.

"Nothing can beat my mum's cookies." He exclaimed as he began stirring the pot of milk to bring it to a boil, you scoffed at him. 

"You haven't tried mine yet."

You slapped his hand away as he reached for a cookie before the movie even started, 

"Kim Seokjin I will break that hand." You giggled at him as he tried to go for another cookie. Once the opening credits began on the Christmas film you'd selected - yes a Christmas film in November - you handed him one cookie staring at his face while you waited for him to bite into it. He looked at you in the corner of his eye, 

"Is this the part of the trip where you poison me?" You nodded dramatically and he bit into the cookie chewing on it. The outside was the perfect crunch but yet the inside had that classic chewy centre that had his mouthwatering and begging for more. You could already tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying them, 

"Told you mine were better." You teased giving him another cookie and directing your attention to the movie.

Jin's eyes kept dancing over to you whenever he heard you quoting the movie under your breath, it made him chuckle to hear you recite the lines back to the TV. 

"Merry Christmas ya filthy animal." You made the gun noises, 

"And a happy new year." He started chuckling and you looked at him to see what he was finding so funny when you came nose to nose with him, 

"S-Sorry, I know how annoying it is I'll stop-"

"No, don't, It's cute." You felt a warm feeling spread up the back of your neck and into your ears as he indirectly called you cute, you bit down on your lip eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes while the movie ran in the background.

"C-Cute?" You whispered and he nodded slowly at you as he leant in towards you, you leant up. Neither of you were thinking about anything and once your lips touched the rest of the world melted away. The movie faded into silence, Namjoon was out of your mind you were just there with Jin. His hands came up to cup your cheeks while yours worked their way onto the back of his neck moving closer to him until the plate that had been holding the cookies slipped from his lap and smashed onto the floor. You sprung apart from one another and he looked at the plate. 

"I'll clean it up," You nodded frantically trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart from the Earth-shattering kiss that had just happened between you both. 

"I'm...I'm going to go and er...I'm going to go and shower," You said nervously before leaving the living room and going straight into the en-suite within your room. You stared at yourself in the mirror, you'd just made out with Jin on the sofa. Jin who was your ex-boyfriend's best friend. Your ex-boyfriend who had cheated on you. You bent down splashing cold water onto your face as you tried not to think about the kiss but it was hard not to. It was one of the most amazing kisses you'd ever experienced in your life, you could still feel his touch on you as you stood up and stared at yourself once again. What were you thinking? He was Namjoon's best friend, you couldn't kiss him again...even though you really wanted to. Everyone would have something to say about it if they found out. 

The next day it was as if nothing had happened between you and Jin, you almost thought that maybe it was some kind of hyper-realistic dream that you'd had until you found the broken plate in the bin. You and Jin hadn't spoken all day, when he was in the living room you were hiding out in the bedroom and when he was in his room you were in the kitchen trying to eat before he came out. You didn't know how to act around someone you had just kissed you who you weren't supposed to kiss even if it did feel right to you both.

"What are you doing?" Jin asked when he watched you walk in from the snow and walk over to the fridge, you looked over at him. 

"Building a snowman." You held up the carrot in your hand and he stood up from the sofa, you'd thought he was still hiding out in his room which is why you'd come in from outside. 

"You didn't invite me," He pouted slipping on a coat and following you out into the front part of the cabin, sitting there next to his car were two snowmen that were wrapped in one of Jimin's scarfs and one of Jungkook's hat's that he'd brought along for you.

"He's handsome, is it me?" He joked following you over as you placed a carrot on each of the snowmen faces,

"Nah, not big-headed enough." You deadpanned and he faked a gasp bending down to retrieve some snow from the floor before balling it up and throwing it at you. 

"Oh no, you didn't!" You screamed bending down to grab some and launching it at him, 

"Snowball fight!" He yelled you darted behind his car and skidded along the floor as you tried to make as many snowballs as fast as you could. 

"You're going down Kim!" You cried out as you came out from the car and threw as many as fast as you could before kneeling back down to reload.  

"Oh yeah!? Going down am I?!" You squealed as he came over with snowballs hitting you in the legs before knocking you down onto the floor on your back, he was straddling your lap as you looked up at him giggling as he tickled your sides through the thick coat you were wearing.

"I yield!" You yelled and he finally stopped tickling you laughing as you stared up at him covered in snowflakes as he began snowing around you both. It really was something out of a snowglobe scene, 

"Come on, before we get sick." He chuckled helping you onto your feet and walking you towards the cabin, 

"Go and have a shower, I'll make food and put the fire on." He told you as he stripped you from the coat and went to hang it up somewhere to dry, you looked at him as he did all of it. You wanted to kiss him again and again and again. The whole time he had you pinned down to the floor you wanted him to kiss you like they did in the movies but life wasn't like the movies.

After eating together you were sat in front of the fire trying to warm up, maybe a snowball fight wasn't the best idea when the only thing to keep you warm was a fireplace. The cabin hadn't been kitted out with radiators just yet so you were left to try and warm up here. 

"Go and get the covers from your room and the pillows," Jin whispered when he noticed how tired you were getting. Your eyes were struggling to stay open but you nodded and sleepily made your way into your room to drag the giant cover from the bed along with the pillows. Coming back into the living room you saw Jin was laying his down on the floor in front of the fireplace, 

"Pillows," You threw the pillows to him and he laid them down so you would be at one end while he was at the other. It didn't appeal to you though, you wanted to snuggle up next to him in front of the fire but you understood that it would probably make him uncomfortable since you were Namjoon's ex. 

"You're shivering." He mumbled an hour later, you'd both been trying to sleep but you couldn't drift off because of how cold you were. 

"Here," He moved over and patted the space in front of him, you shifted around to him and laid down so he was right behind you. 

"I'll be able to warm you up quicker." His breath was right on your neck and it send shivers down your spine to have him this close, you could feel his heart racing as you tried to relax against him but it was hard.

"Your heart is beating a thousand times a second," You whispered turning around to look up at him, he swallowed nervously and looked down into your eyes, you somehow looked more beautiful by firelight than ever before and he couldn't help but reach out and run his hand over your cheek, you leant your face into his hand to let him know that you wanted him to do it again. Without thinking he kissed you again, your hands were on the back of his neck pulling him closer to you, you both smiled into the kiss as he pulled you closer by your waist. The sudden closeness made everything around you feel warm, the fire having nothing to do with it. Jin swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you parted your lips for him allowing him to snake his tongue against yours. You whined as you felt him grow larger next to you and ground himself into you. He broke the kiss as he pulled back to make sure you were okay with this, 

"I'm okay," You whispered and he chuckled picking you up so you were straddling his lap. You could feel the tension building between you both so you leant forward to kiss him once again, it was soft and slow as his hands ran up your thighs and onto your waist where they stayed. You let out a giggle as he dug his thumb into you and he chuckled as you did so, 

"Cute," He whispered before kissing you once again, he turned you over so you were back on the floor again and he began kissing down your neck, softly leaving small love bites on the way. None that would leave too much of a mark. You both knew where this was going but he looked at you to make sure you were still okay with everything going on and you nodded at him. His hands slowly tugged down the shorts you were wearing making the heat between your legs grow. He returned to kissing on your neck, sucking on the skin before soothing it over with his tongue sighing in content as you let out a whine of his name, 

"That's so hot." He breathed out and you smiled at him before kissing him and hooking your arms around the back of his neck. His hands slowly traced the inside of your thighs and you whimpered him as you felt your wetness only grow for him. 

"Jin," He smirked up at you know what you wanted so he placed a small kiss on your lips before it turned into a loving make out session on the floor.

"Please Jin," You begged as his fingers ran along your folds soaking them in your arousal, you were dripping for him and desperate for him to just touch you. 

"I want to taste you," You nervously nodded at him and he shuffled down the floor lifting your right leg over his shoulder as he looked up at you. He blew cold air onto your clit and you whimpered legs shaking and he hadn't even touched you yet. 

"You sure?" He questioned and you nodded at him, you'd never been so sure about something else in your life. His mouth attached to your core and you let out a gasp gripping onto the sheets as you felt his tongue begin to flick against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hand went into his hair pulling at the strands to silently tell him to keep going, 

"F-Fuck!!" You cried out letting go of his hair as he continued to suck and pull on your clit, he pushed two of his fingers into you and you whimpered, you were already close from his mouth and this was pushing you over the edge. 

"I'm close." You mumbled as you looked down at him, he hummed at your core and the vibrations pushed you further to your edge. 

"Jin!" You whimpered as the warm sensation took over your body, your vision began to have black dots in it as your orgasm washed over you. Jin continued to eat you out through your orgasm but the sensitivity was too much and you jutted away from him. He chuckled at you as you took a couple of seconds to get your breathing back to normal, 

"You okay?" Your breathing was still harsh but you nodded as you panted to him, 

"Fine just a little intense." He chuckled and that was when you spotted the tent in his sweatpants, you were instantly filled with energy and you went to sit up, 

"Do you need a minute-"

"Need you." You whispered and he chuckled at your desperation laying you back down on the floor, then the realisation hit you both, 

"I don't have any-"

"Me neither but I've got an IUD," You told him and he nodded at you, he knew you were clean. He kicked off his sweatpants and lined himself up at your entrance. Rubbing himself up and down in your folds to coat himself up, 

"Jin please," You begged and he kissed you as he slowly slipped into you, you moaned into the kiss at the feeling of him stretching you out around him sending a feeling of intense ecstasy through your body.

"Shit you feel so good," He grunted holding himself in place and placing his head in the crook of your neck to stop himself from ravishing you. 

"Y-You can move." You whimpered wanting to feel him move, he hooked your leg over his shoulder once again and he began to roll his hips into you, kissing you as he fucked into you. 

"Jin," You moaned out encouraging him to go a little faster. His hips continued thrusting into you and you could feel his tip hitting that one part of you that had your legs shaking and your eyes rolling back. Jin could tell by the look on your face that you were close yet again and he loved it. 

"You're so tight, fuck you have no idea how amazing you feel." He moaned out as his hand held onto your waist so he could keep you in place. you tightened around at him at his words and he picked up the pace a little more, angling himself so he could reach deeper into you. 

"Shit right there!" You cried out back arching off the floor as he hit you in just the right spot that turned your version blurry. His free hand travelled down to your core where he began rubbing your clit in fast circles making you whimper and cry out his name over and over again. Pleasure ripping through you as you felt your second orgasm hitting you of the night, 

"Jin!" You cried out riding out your high as he released into you grunting out your name heavily as he held himself in place. 

The next morning you woke up tangled in Jin's arms and you smiled looking up at him, the sun was shining through the window directly on him and he looked like an angel sent from above. 

"Cute," You whispered kissing his cheek getting up to go and have a quick shower before he woke up, you had no idea what was going to happen the moment you left the cabin but right here and now you didn't care. All you cared about was the magical night that you and Jin had spent together, come to think of it the whole weekend had been amazing considering it was supposed to be. A weekend away with Namjoon, turned into a weekend away alone turned to a weekend away with your ex-boyfriend's best friend who you'd just slept with. There was one thing for sure in your mind, you didn't regret sleeping with him at all and you didn't think you were ever going to. Being with Jin felt right and you didn't care if it was wrong in anyone else's eyes. 

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Too Late 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.

And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking. 

You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure. 

You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.

You were old. Accept it.

You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants. 

You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.

You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.

You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.

Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.

When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.

👟

Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.

Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent. 

You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.

You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.

Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.

You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.

“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms. 

“You.” You echoed dully. 

“Small world,” He chuckled.

“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”

“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”

“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”

“New?” He raised a brow.

“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled. 

“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”

“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness. 

“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.

“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”

“I’m not very fast.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”

“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”

You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.

“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”

“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”

“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”

You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.

“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”

“How’s work?” He asked.

You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.

“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”

“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”

“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”

“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”

You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.

“Friends?” You repeated darkly.

“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”

“Steve.” You uttered.

“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”

You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure. 

“You sure?” You asked.

“What time do you usually run?”

“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”

“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”

“You really don’t--”

“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned. 

You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.

👟

Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.

You slowed as he greeted you.

“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”

“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”

“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”

“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.

“Are you asking for my number?”

“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.

“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”

“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”

“Right,” You nodded slowly.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”

“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”

“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”

You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.

“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”

“Steve--”

“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”

You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.

“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”

You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell. 

“It’s… a lot.” You said. 

“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”

You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.

“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”

“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”

“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”

He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.

“Well, should we get going?” He asked.

“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”

[mlovesstories]

His Thoughts on Therapy 2

Masterlist of Masterlists 

Warnings: cussing, violence, hurt, emotions, therapy, homelessness, VERY hurt characters. 

Words: 2400

Thanks as always to my boo @cherryblossomflowers​ for the help.  Hope you like this, girlie! 

AN- Enjoy! Maybe grab tissues? 

“So what’s up your butt, Winchester?” YN sat on the steps of the office building. Dean stopped when she acknowledged him. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. I am just going through some stuff, and I was about to explode.” He towered over her as he came closer. 

“Ah.” She kicked her feet in the air off the side of the staircase. 

“What’s on your mind, T?” Dean knew her session was right after his. “Don’t you have session now?” 

“Don’t want to.” YN didn’t dare look at him. 

“That’s what I said this morning to my brother. But he made me come anyway.” Dean grinned. “You should go in. Sky will make you feel better. I’m sure you know it too.” He extended his hand to help her up. 

“I got it, thanks.” YN maneuvered herself to a standing position and limped up the remaining stairs. 

“YN!” She turned. “What happened?” 

“I’m fine, Dean.” Now it was her turn to walk away from him without explanation. 

Dean texted YN the next day to check on her. 

YN

I’m fine, Winchester. 

Dean

I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me. 

YN 

Go away.

Dean

We’re texting, where would I go? ;] 

YN

You know what I mean. 

She didn’t text back after that. When he saw her at therapy, she was withdrawn and quiet. 

“Did something happen?” He slowly sat next to her on the steps. 

“Tires were punctured this morning. I hate it here.” 

“Wow. Seriously bad luck.” 

“Can you stay for my session today? After yours?” 

Dean’s jaw dropped but he didn’t want to show his astonishment. 

“Uh, sure. I am done for the day at work.” 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Dr. Sky smiled as the two walked into her office. “Dean, we just finished…?” 

“YN asked me to stay for her session. We met outside a few months ago and I’ve seen her around. YN was acting weird today and asked if I would stay for her session.” 

The doctor looked from Dean to the girl. 

“Is this right?” 

“Yeah.” YN nodded. 

“Alright then.” 

They participated in small talk for the first few minutes. 

“So, why is Dean here, YN? Is there something you felt you needed extra support for?” 

“No, not really. I just wanted him here for my session. And to thank him. Thank you, Dean, for being so kind to me. I know I’m an ass sometimes, but you still decided to be my friend.” 

“Sure. We both have helped each other, T.” 

“I think I may know why YN wanted you here, Dean.”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Do you mind if I give Dean some insight, YN?” 

“Sure,” the girl shrugged. 

“YN doesn’t trust a lot of people, especially males. Males older than her. From getting to know her, I would hypothesize that you did something very nice for her, and now she trusts you. Would that be accurate, YN?” 

YN nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Winchester. This was stupid,” YN thought she was stupid for even thinking of being so open with Dean. 

“T, it’s fine, come on. Relax.” 

“Fine. I don’t go to KU, okay?” 

Dean cocked his head to the side. 

“What?” Dean gasped. 

“I ran away from home. Let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy situation. And then I find an ass of a guy who actually asked how I was doing.” She rolled her eyes.

“Can I punch someone for you?” Dean gritted his teeth. 

“Stand down, Mister Winchester.” Dr. Sky put a hand up.

“You remind me of my older brother.  I think that’s why you don’t scare me. He was fifteen years older than me.  You kinda look like him too.” 

“Was?” 

“I haven’t seen him in a long time.  Mom and Dad said he couldn’t see me anymore because he was trying to get me out of that house.  They threatened to get him arrested for something stupid.  So… he left.” 

“Damn.  So, you have no idea where he is? Why don’t you go see him?” 

“No, no clue.”  YN wiped away a tear.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I didn’t mean to make you involved in this.  I’m sorry, Doctor Sky.  This was stupid.” She stood and started to exit.  Knowing that he had to get her attention, he shouted.  

“Tissues!” 

She jumped and turned. 

“Sit down.” 

They finished their session, but both Doctor Sky and Dean noticed how closed off she became.  

“Let’s go,” Dean practically dragged YN to his car.  

“What?” She tripped over her own feet as he pulled her along.  

“Get in.” 

“What?” YN jerked her arm out of his grasp.  

“Get in, we need to have a conversation.” Dean growled, frustrated. 

YN slowly sat in the car. 

“Why didn’t you say you weren’t safe? Someone you know could have slashed your tires.  It may not be a random thing, don’t you get that?” 

“It WAS random! My family has no idea where I am.” She crossed her arms. 

“Fine.  What do you need?” 

“Huh?” 

“Job, food…?” 

“Both?” She sighed. 

“I got an opening at the shop.  You know how to sweep floors?” 

“Yeah…” She eyed him curiously.  

“Great.  You start tomorrow at 7am.  I’ll text you the address.” He pulled out his phone. “Now, get out of my car, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dean winked at her. She rolled her eyes.  

“Bye, Dean.” 

The next morning, she hopped off the bus across the street from Winchester Auto.  

“You’re late,” Dean walked past her as she entered.  

“It is 6:55am.” 

“If you’re not early, you’re late.” He gathered up random nuts and bolts on a counter and handed them to YN.  “Sort these.  The breakroom is down the hall.  You can put your stuff in there.” 

Okay…” she huffed.  “Good morning to you too, Winchester.” 

“I’m treating you like anyone else around here.  Hurry up,” he walked her to the breakroom and watched her drop her things.  

“How long is my shift?” 

“Til five.” 

“I don’t have a lunch…” 

“I brought you some.  Lunch is at twelve.” Dean walked to the fridge, opened it and took out the milk.  In a cabinet, he reached for some cereal.  “This is why I said you were late.  Come in early and you can eat before you start your shift.  I get here at six every morning.” 

“Wow.” She smiled.  “Thank you, Dean.” YN whispered. 

“You’re welcome.  Ten minutes, then it’s time to work.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“This is YN, she is our new rover.  We all know how to be gentlemen in here, so let’s keep it that way.  Any ogling eyes will have their pay cut, you understand me?” He glared at all of the men in the room.  

“Yes, boss,” they all responded.  

YN stayed quiet the whole day, doing what Dean asked her to.  

“You want a ride home, kid? I saw you took the bus this morning.” 

“No, it’s okay.  Thanks, Winchester.” 

“What’s going on?  You’re not telling me something,” he read the uncertainty and lie on her face. 

“I don’t have anywhere to go…” she looked away.  “I lied about having an apartment.  It wasn’t mine…” 

“You’re homeless?  And now you don’t have tires?  Where is your car?”  

“Guy bought it.  I needed the money.” 

“Let’s go,” he took her elbow and practically shoved her in the car.  “Where is your stuff?” 

“In my backpack.” 

“Damn, T.” 

“You don’t have to feel bad for me, ya know.  No one has ever cared anyway!” YN screamed. 

“Well, you should!  This is what it is for someone to care, okay!  Having empathy is caring.  I don’t feel bad for you, just for the record.  I’m angry that you didn’t have somewhere to stay, and you felt like you had to hide it from me.  You had no reason to.” 

“I’m sorry I lied.” YN sighed and looked out the window.  Dean started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

They pulled into the driveway at Sam’s house.  Dean saw that he was already home.  

“Inside, now.” 

“Grumpy old man,” YN whispered to herself. 

“SAM! GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!” Dean’s voice bellowed throughout the house.  

“WHY?” Dean heard him yell back from the kitchen.  

“I need you! Hurry up!” 

Sam rolled his eyes.  He carried his water bottle with him to the entry way.  

“Oh, hi, YN.  What’s going on?” 

“YN needs to crash until further notice.  Can she take the guest bedroom?  She’ll be on her best behavior, yes?” Dean glared at her.  

YN nodded and bit her lip.  

“Is everything okay?” Sam looked from her to Dean and then back to YN.  

“Yes.  I just need a bed for a few days.  I won’t cause a problem, I promise.” 

“Okay.” 

“You’ll be here at least a month.” 

“DEAN!” She stomped her foot.

“You barely have any money and no belongings.  How are you going to get a roof over your head in a few days?  Two paychecks and then you can go, you hear me?” 

“Ugh.” 

“Excuse me?” Dean stepped closer to her. 

“Fine.” 

Two days later, Dean came into the kitchen to find YN wiping down the counters. 

“You know, you don’t have to clean all the time.” 

“I’m a guest living in your house for free.  I should still contribute something, and right now, all I can do is clean.” 

“Will you sit down and be still for two seconds?” He yanked the sponge away from her.  “Sit.” She harrumphed and plopped herself down at the kitchen table. 

“What, Dean? I’m trying to make sure I do my part. And stop bossing me around, would you? I’m not a kid!” She crossed her arms. 

“Why should I trust anything you say? You cried in therapy and then drop a bomb on me about how your life is not as you presented it. Now, I get that you’re running away-“

“WATCH IT, DEAN WINCHESTER!” 

“You came to a new town to start over. So start over. Don’t run from what’s going on in front of you.”  

“Hmph.”

“You don’t get to tell me about how to deal with you when you lie.”

YN shook her head, rolling her eyes. 

A FEW YEARS LATER

“DEE?” YN ran into the house. “Sam?” 

“What, T?” They walked into the living room from the kitchen.

“I -“ she sniffled. “I found my brother.”

“What?” 

“Found him on social media. He… he died though. I saw someone tagged him in his obituary.” Her face was red and puffy. 

“Wait, what?” His mouth opened. She ran into his arms. “Oh, T.” He sighed. 

After many minutes of crying, she quieted and wiped her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Dee.” 

“It’s okay.” 

They sat down on the couch and he pulled her into his side, even though she resisted. 

“I know you’re not a hugger, but you need one. Relax,” Dean whispered. He felt her muscle tension release. “Good job.” They sat silently for a while before he looked down and saw her asleep next to him. “Oh, kid. I’m so sorry.” Dean said in his head. Not being able to move because of YN leaning into him, he fell asleep. 

When he woke up, YN sniffled and wiped her eyes again. 

“YN?” He looked down at her. 

“I need some alone time.” YN stood up and walked out the door.

“Don’t go home,” he chased after her. “Stay here. I want to keep an eye on you.” 

She turned around. 

“I want my blankets, and I want my stuffed animals. I don’t have that here. I moved out, remember?” 

“Fine. Go upstairs, hide under the covers. Sam will go get some of your things on his way home.” 

“No, I’m fine-“ 

“NOW.” Dean said from his throat. 

She swallowed hard. YN respected him enough to know he was serious even though she didn’t understand why he wanted her to stay. YN hung her head and walked back into the house.

“Come on.” She followed Dean to his room. He pulled out a pair of sweats and a shirt. When he offered them to her, she slowly accepted them. “You can go hide now,” Dean winked. 

Later that evening, Dean woke up to sounds in his room. 

“YN?” He rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m going to hurt you for stealing my girl,” a woman hissed. 

Dean tried to get up and defend himself, but his body was under his blankets, rendering him unable to fight back. Something hit his head. 

“Ah!” 

He fought his way out of his sheets, but he didn’t have time to stand up. When Dean put his arms up to protect himself, she slashed him with something, cutting his arms and his cheek. 

YN woke up hearing screaming. She raced to Dean’a bedroom where the noise was coming from. He was on his back with his hands behind him. A very prim and proper-looking lady stood over him with something shiny and skinny going toward his eye. Dean saw YN and indicated to his right. Looking to her left, she saw a lamp. The lady heard YN and tried to stab Dean’s eye with the object. Dean screamed in pain. YN saw the uninvited guest push it onto his eye. He screamed. YN kicked the back of her knee, knocking her off balance. They fought until YN missed a beat. Her opponent pulled out a knife and stabbed Dean in the chest. 

YN ripped the lamp cord out of the wall and chucked the object at the lady’s head. Splintering after it hit her, some of the pieces sprayed all over Dean. He whined. The lady lay incapacitated on the ground. YN pushed Dean to roll over and untie the bandana around his wrists. Crying from his injured eye, YN took her flannel off and put it up to his face. . 

“It hurts!” He made incoherent noises in too much pain to say anything else. 

“I got you.” 

YN called for Sam when she heard the door slam. He barreled up the stairs. Seeing the scene before him, he pulled YN away from Dean and the lady below her. 

“No!” She yelled. 

“Call 911!” Sam shoved his phone into her chest. “Dean,” he reached his older brother, and he took his hand. “Oh, Dean.” 

After Sam started screaming, realizing Dean was so hurt, YN was on the phone with 911, she looked down at the woman bleeding out on the ground. 

“Mom?”

________

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl  @super100012  

 @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@seality​​​​​ @jaycc7983​​​ @luci-in-trenchcoats​​​ 

@cherryblossomflowers​​ @because-you-never-know-when​ 

@sleepylunarwolf​ @choosemyname​ 

@internationalmusicteacher​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ 

@encounterthepast​  @torn-and-frayed​ 

@giggles1026​ @xiumin-girl99​ 

@mangueweaschester​

@idksupernatural​  @silverstripe101a​

@thevelvetseries​ @jennawinchester152a​ * @samsgirl93​   @supernatural3002​ *

* @breereadsthings​ * 

@a-magey​ @vicmc624​ @hookedinto-fictionalworlds​   @beatifuldisaster018​

@miraclesoflove​ @myopiamystical​ @fallen-wolf22​

@waywardnewcomer​  

@marvelouslysherlockedhunter @miss-nerd95​ 

@akshi8278​

[fairymadnessyeah]

Visiting Time

Shigadabi week day 4

AO3 Link

Summary: EXTRA! EXTRA! The villain Dabi has been captured! Affiliations with Hawks and Endeavour, the Number one hero!

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

Captured / Mystery / Trust

"You want to what!?" Shigaraki shouts in disbelief at his second-in-command.

"Go to Tartarous," his idiotic partner repeats. "You said you are planning a prison-break, right? That you need someone you trust on the inside? Well, I'm that person, I'm volunteering," he is crazy, Tomura is sure.

"Why?" he scans him from head to toe.

"What? Don't you trust me? You think I'll double-cross you?" the raven mocks with a grin.

"No, but you usually have other intentions whenever you follow my plans," he tells him, but the other just shrugs. He doesn't say anything else, so Tomura knows he is going to have to drag it out of him. After a year together, he had learned to a lot about Dabi, especially what made him tick. "Whatever, I'm not sending you either way..." he shrugs and turns around, giving his back to him.

"Why the fuck not!?" Dabi argues.

"First and most important, the mission is a very physical one," he starts explaining. "It needs to look as if you put up a fight before you get caught, and then you have to survive prison. In your burnt ass state, you wouldn't last a day," Dabi smirks.

"But you are going to fix that," he reminds him. "With all the notes from the Doctor we recovered and that nice lab you got for Skeptic, you can fix my weak constitution. I know Toga is getting tested to go through the process, I just need to go before her, and I'll be ready in time," Tomura hates that he makes a good argument.

"I still wouldn't send you," he tells him again. "Even if you stop being a burnt corpse, you still are my second-in-command. Heroes know that, and so does the public. If you get caught, it would seem like the heroes are getting closer to stopping us, which is not the message we want to send," he explains and believes it's the end of the discussion, but Dabi's grin only widens.

"Oh, babe, if you send me, the hate for heroes is only going to grow," he comments and gets a confused look from his boss. Dabi, then leans closer and whispers his answer in the boss' ear.

Shigaraki can't help but gasp at the revelation. The last puzzle-piece, the truth about Dabi. It's so simple and so glaringly evident, he is a little ashamed he didn't notice it earlier. It makes so much sense. How could he have thought the fire wielder was mysterious at any point? It's so obvious. "Is that why you want to go?" Tomura asks the man once he leans away.

"Yeah, it's time for people to know the truth," the raven says, and his grin widens until the staples on his face are taut and tight.

Dabi is a match, Tomura realizes, and it's bound time to light it up and set everything ablaze.

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

They are all together, watching the news when Dabi gets caught. Tomura, Toga, Spinner and Compress are all worrying. Even if this is a plan, it's a risky one. Many things can go wrong, and they might never see Dabi again. But Tomura weirdly trusts him. Dabi knows what he is doing, and from the first mission, he has brought him nothing but great results. He knew he had chosen well when he picked him as a second-in-command.

The league or what was left of it along with the leaders of the liberation army, were all in Skeptic's new lab to see it. The attack started simple. A blue fire, going off in a building near Endeavour's agency to make a threat and make sure they knew it was Dabi the one behind the attack. The building they choose was a communication centre and could be a possible target. Once the fire started, people began to get evacuated while Dabi made his way to the top of the building, Endeavour hot on his trail.

The whole thing was being televised with a helicopter, so they all got to see the moment Dabi was in the roof with his new hooded jacket and the moment Endeavour froze mid-attack when he took it off. There wasn't a lot of build-up to it. But the commentary from the reporter on the sky was serving their case amazingly.

"That- That is Dabi, right? The villain?" the man said as the camera focused on the new unscarred face of the villain. "Why does he look so much like Endeavour? That's not possible..."

The man narrating wasn't wrong though, Dabi was almost a carbon copy of his dad. Red hair, turquoise eyes, cold gaze, steady shoulders. After his surgery, it had been quite a fright, especially since Dabi lost his shit after seeing himself in the mirror. It had taken Spinner, Compress and him to knock him out while he was burning himself. The incident had postponed the mission for a few days, but it had been worth it. The look of Endeavour's face at seeing the son he tortured back had made it worth it.

"Can we get closer? The villain is saying something," the reporter says, and they can see them get close enough to catch what Dabi was saying.

"- you are not going to fight me? Or can you only do that when I was a weak fucking kid!?" Dabi is heard screaming, and then he lets out a giant torrent of blue, blazing fire. That seems to snap the hero out of his trance, and he defends himself, meeting Dabi's fire with his own. But it isn't enough. The surgery had made Dabi stronger, and soon enough, the hero is on his knees as his son towers over him. The villain, when he is close enough, kick the hero in the face, making him fall down. "Aren't you proud now!? I surpassed the number 1 hero! Isn't that what you wanted!?" Dabi keeps screaming at his father as he steps on him, the heat rising with every word.

Suddenly, Dabi's eyes widen, and he turns towards his back, releasing another torrent of fire. The camera follows his attack and then focuses on another hero who just entered the scene. Hawks, with two feathers out as swords, dodges the attack and tries to find an opening to save the older hero. Dabi keeps his foot atop his father as he also keeps an eye on the flying pest. "Well, isn't this a little reunion? The two highest-ranking heroes came to try to stop me! Don't I feel special?" the villain keeps monologuing, Dabi loved hearing himself talk. "How's it been Keigo? Did you kill anyone else? Who would think that the two most trusted individuals in the country are the two of you? A monster and murderer are the pillars of society, the saviours of tomorrow, the heroes everyone is looking up to!"

BANG!

The door to the roof is kicked open. But as Dabi is about to attack the newcomer, he stops.

In the entrance, is a panting teenager with split hair of two different colours. Him and Dabi lock eyes for a minute, before the teen speaks softly. "Please, nii-san..." the baby hero begs his brother. Dabi stares silently for a second, and for a while, they think he is going to attack. But he only sighs and raises his arms in surrender, stepping away from his father. Then, in an action that makes them stand up from their seat and hold their breath, Hawks attacks. He is going for the kill, and he would have gone through with it if it wasn't for Dabi baby brother. The hero-rookie, notices his intentions, steps in the way, creating a wall of ice in an instance. The league sighs in relief as they see their teammate get handcuffed and the tv programme go to a commercial break.

Part one of the mission had been successful. Now phase two started.

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

A month after his arrest, Shigaraki contacted him again.

Once he was cuffed, Shoto took him back to the ground and inside a prisoner moving van. The entire way Hawks had been by his side, ready to leap at any moment, and his brother never left his side, not trusting Hawks for a second. The moment they were out of the building, cameras and flashes surrounded them. Every reporter from every piece of media was there, and they all wanted an answer. The police tried to keep them at bay, but the masses were unrelentless and only left a tiny hallway for the heroes to take him to the van.

He didn't say a word. It wasn't time yet.

Once he was in his cell in Tartarous, the questioning began. The detective Tomura warned him about, the lie detector one, questioned him for two weeks before giving up. Dabi made sure to only speaks in half-truths. Things like 'This is my plan, not the Leagues...', 'I have wanted revenge for years, is why I still stuck with the League, they are a means to end...' and 'He is my brother, you think I'm going to hurt him like my father did? I'm not a monster...' did the trick well enough.

After the interrogations, came the interviews. The fight with his father and Hawks, and the revelations it had brought had been the only thing people talked about. Investigations, debates, conspiracy theories were all focused on him and what he preached. The public was getting anxious for an answer and, to calm things down, an interview of half an hour was allowed. The commission must have believed the people would see him as just another psychopath and would go back to praising the heroes, but Dabi was smarter than that. He knew how to keep people interested, to be enigmatic and draw attention to himself. If he got the leader of the league captivated, he could do it with a bunch of nobodies.

The entire interview, he flirted and teased the reporter and gave nothing but half-answers. But for the last question, he dropped a bomb to make them want more. "You think I ran away from home? No, sweetheart, I died in my home. My father watched me burn and then left me for dead. I left to heal and returned to a family in mourning," he tells her from behind the glass.

"But- but Endeavour is the number one hero...?" she asks, trying to get the results the HPSC wanted.

"All heroes are full of crap, Sweetheart," Dabi winks at her. "Look at your so-called number 2, if you think I'm biased,"

"What do you mean? Hawks is a good person-" the reporter tries to argue back in favour of the winged hero.

"Don't you get tired of lying to yourself?" he mocks her. "Hawks tried to kill me when I surrendered. He killed Twice, someone who never killed anyone before, and an innocent man to prove himself to the league..."

"What- what do you mean prove himself to the League?" she stutters, clearly afraid of the answer.

"He was a double-agent," he tells her. "Keigo joined us and then stabbed us in the back, like all heroes end doing sooner or later,"

"Keigo, huh? It sounds like you were close..." she tries to lead the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"You don't call somebody by their family name when you have sex with them, Sweetheart," he grins as the time runs out and she is escorted out of the cell.

The interview caused riots of massive proportions. The two top heroes integrity were being questioned, and it lead to all heroes to be doubted. People didn't want to be saved by them anymore, UA had to cancel their Sports Festival, and hero agencies were being vandalized. With slurs and insults getting graffitied on their wall and sometimes, people even through rock at their windows. It was beautiful, and with every interview, Dabi made the heat go up. The pressure to find the rest of the PLF had never been more, but he had proved to be useless on that front.

He didn't regret any of it. And when the interviews stopped, he was left alone to rot in his cell. Maybe they were waiting for him to crack when he was left in solitude. He wouldn't and he was a little offended his jailers thought that. That was the moment Shigaraki made contact with him again, and phase three started.

With a mind-communication quirk, Tomura told him that soon they would let him out to the shared space on the prison. He was supposed to start scouting and riot the convicts so that they became loyal to them. The two talked all night, and when he left him, his boss promised a repeat of their last time together if he did a good job.

That made left him reeling and eager to give what his leader wanted and more.

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

All the league had said their goodbyes before he went on the mission. He spent an entire day with Toga, letting the crazy girl do all she wanted with him on a self-care day. He never had been able to before, not fully at least. Since his scars wouldn't agree with all the creams the bloodthirsty girl used. She made him promise to return in one piece. He shared a night of drinking with Compress, where the masked man stripped him of a pocket knife and some piercings. He then said he would hold on to them and give them back to him when he came from his mission safe and sound. He trained with Spinner all evening. The lizard asking him to talk nice about him if he saw Stain and to not get himself killed like a fool. He knew they were all worried about him, not only because of the danger of the mission but also about his psyche.

He hated how similar he looked to his dad. He would do anything to stop seeing him every time he looked in the mirror. Tomura helped him.

On his last night with the league, Tomura called him into his room, and he didn't come out till morning. The two spent hours together, softly killing the last moments before he had to leave for a long time. Between whispers and bedsheets, Tomura made Dabi felt thing he thought he had forgotten how to. It was different from his other experiences. It was slow and tender, each caress meant something, and he felt his heart would give out at any moment. Tomura, who could now touch things without the imminent threat of dusting it, pieced him back together tenderly, in a way the surgery couldn't. That night had been heaven on earth, a sanctuary in his everyday inferno. In those quiet moments, between skin and silk, Dabi didn't need anything else. And he had a feeling Tomura thought the same.

After that night, he woke up with a clear objective. They were fighting for a world where they could live in, a world where Magne and Twice could have lived in, and if Dabi needed to burn the one they were in first, then he would gladly light up and do it.

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

Two months after the first contact, he heard from Shigaraki again.

He gave him an update on his mission, and his leader kept him up with the outside world. Not many news made it into Tartarous, they had an hour of Tv time when they ate and sometimes heard gossip between the guards, but nothing more.

His mission had been going well. He had found Muscular on the first day, who had a small gang of followers, and he quickly earned their respect. He guessed Shigaraki had also communicated with him, since the blonde man followed him from day one. On his first day out of solitude, he learned how the hierarchy of the place worked, and on the second, he made sure everybody knew he meant business.

The prison had three top dogs, one was Muscular, another one was Dorobo, and the third one was Chisaki. He went after the Yakuza first. The only thing that made him dangerous was his lapdogs, since other than that he was a quirkless armless germ freak. Luckily the Yakuza didn't change much, and the moment he underestimated him, Dabi humiliated him in front of the whole patio of convicts. Some of his lapdogs even changed sides, coming to him after finally seeing Chisaki was a lost cause. The Dorobo part was more tricky, but he was slowly making the small gang respect him.

"Do you trust those Yakuzas?" Shigaraki's voice echoed in his mind.

"Not entirely, Setsuno and Hoyo are more likely to betray us, but Rappa, Rikija and Tabe are desperate to get out of here," he thinks, talking to Tomura.

"Anything else I should be aware of?" Shigaraki asks.

"Kurogiri, Stain, the Doctor and your Sensei are in constant lockdown. I can't reach them and not get caught," he informs him.

"I see. I'll deal with Kurogiri and Stain, the Doctor and Sensei can wait," he tells him.

"You sure?"

"If he wanted to, Sensei could get out of there with a flick of his finger. He is making his own plan. And we don't need the Doctor, for now. We can get him out after we free Kurogiri," he hears Tomura explain.

"Mmm, I miss you," he tells him, not having much of filter inside his head.

"Me too," Tomura breathlessly responds.

"Is there anything you want from this place?" he asks, confusing the leader. "I can't go back empty-handed, I want to give you a gift," he tells him.

"Just come back safely, and I will be satisfied," Tomura admits.

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

It took seven months for the mission to reach its final point.

One morning, in a peaceful part of town, they released some second-rate Noumus and made them run through the woods. Heroes went on a wild goose chase after them, and while they were busy, the prison break began.

They first cut communications with the outside. Skeptic did it electronically until Toga got inside and gained control of the whole prison in the control-panels. Once Toga had taken control, Dabi started another riot. It began as a fight between his group and the Yakuzas that escalated, and the Dorobos joined in. It was a common occurrence for riots to break out whenever Dabi felt bored, so the guards inside already knew the protocol they had to follow.

As they were distracted with that, Spinner and Compress slipped inside with the help of Toga and liberated the two key players who weren't in the riot. Compress went after Kurogiri and Spinner after Stain. Once her task was done, she went to the storage room of Tartarous, where they kept all the villains personal stuff and met with Compress, Spinner and the two older men, who were back in their usual clothing. With bags full of Compress' marbles, Kurogiri opened a portal, and they all left.

While that was happening undisturbed, a giant icicle broke one of the walls of the prison, just where the prisoners were at the moment. Out of the ice structure, Apocrypha and one of their underdogs came out. The underdog, one with an electrical quirk, created a make-shift fence between the prisoners and the guards. At that moment, Toga, who was still in the control centre by that time, enabled the convicts quirk to be back. But only those Dabi had said it was okay. Then, with the guards leaving them alone and their quirks back, Dabi stood among them with a way to escape.

The small group of five ended in a green, flowery clearing, where Tomura was waiting. As soon as they arrived, the leader asked the mist man to open another portal, back to the prison, where the other convicts were. Apocrypha, once the black portal appeared, made an ice wall to give the convicts time to escape. They all went through it, but when Hoyo and Setsuno were about to follow them, Dabi stopped them. The Yakuza's didn't have their quirks back yet, so even if the red-head was alone, there was no way for them to win against him. Not to mention that Apocrypha was behind him, giving him time and keeping the ice wall up.

"None of you are going to leave this place until you prove to me you are not loyal to Chisaki anymore. You don't have to join the league, but if you want freedom, you can't serve Overhoe," he gives them an ultimatum.

"What!? How!? In any moment they are going to break that wall! There is no time for that!" Setsuno complains.

"Grab Chisaki and hold him for me," Dabi tells them, no panic in his voice. "I'm going to gift him to Tomura, but he is heavy, and I don't want to carry him," he explains and watches as Chisaki's eye widen in surprise as his shoulders begin to shake with rage. "So, what's it gonna be?" Setsuno and Hoyo share a glance and then look behind them.

The blonde lowers his head and then steps back towards the Yakuzas. But Hoyo doesn't. He turns around, pushes the skinny lapdogs out of the way and grabs Chisaki like a bag of potatoes. The germaphobe screams and pleads with the bald man, but he doesn't listen. Dabi lets him pass and finally, as the ice wall falls, the fire and ice wielder step into the mist.

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

As the convicts start coming through the black portal, they are distributed into cars. Those that don't want to join the league but become allies are given a small car per groups of four, and the one who join the Paranormal front are moved into a truck. The only ones left inside the prison are Geten, the Yakuza and Dabi.

The league waits for them as the truck filled with ex-convicts leaves.

Tomura doesn't know what's taking the other so long. The fire-maniac had asked they give him a few minutes to sort something out, but he was really pushing it. Had they got him again? No. He trusted his second-in-command. Whatever he was doing was for the league, he knew that. He was impatient, though. It had been seven months since he last saw the pyro, and while hearing his voice and seeing news about him was enough for a while, he still wanted to be next to him.

Suddenly, a bald man carrying the screaming and pleading mess of Chisaki Kai comes through the portal, with Dabi and Geten behind him. Kurogiri closes the gateway, and it takes all of Tomura's self-control not to run towards Dabi.

"I brought you a gift," Dabi states as Geten stomps away, fuming and cursing and the ex-yakuza leaves his former boss on the ground in front him. "Take a ride with the ice Gremlin. Something tells me you won't join the league," he tells Hoyo, who grunts and leaves.

"Welcome back," Tomura greets him, as Dabi comes closer to him. "I knew you could do it,"

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

The league partied and celebrated their win that night.

Their new base was hidden inside on a mountain, and the more civilian-like part of the army were at a different location, so it was private to villains. The new recruits, who had been locked away, were drinking and enjoying their freedom. Re-destro and the rest of his group was trying to control them to no avail, but otherwise were having a good time and basking in the triumph of the mission. Stain, who, although he was not going to join the league, decided to hang around, was meeting his fans. Toga, after finally letting go of Dabi, latched onto the hero-killer like a  parasite. She asked him all sort of question about blood and showed him her knife collection. Spinner stood by their side, listening and staring in awe as the man talked. Dabi was beside them too, chuckling in amusement at the scene and talking for Spinner since the lizard was unable to. Compress travelled from small group to small group, basically hosting the entire thing and giving out clothes for the ex-prisoners to change.

Dabi leaves the one-sided chat with Stain when Compress gives him his clothes. He steps away from the celebration altogether and heads towards his room. As he walks through the halls of their base, he comes across Tomura and Kurogiri. The two had disappeared at some point of the party, and they were now trapped in a loving embrace. He didn't interrupt them and kept on his way. He was taking off the jail suit when Tomura stepped inside his room.

The two crossed gazes, and Tomura closed the door behind him and finally gave in. He strode to his second-in-command and clashed their lips together in a wanting and desperate kiss.

They didn't come out of that room until the next morning.

[blackidyll]

.

mmm i’ve been kind of in a mental spiral lately (literally feels like i’m having an existential crisis 70% of the time). like you know, 2020 was super fucked up but as time went by we all kind of adjusted? and things are not fine but you can juggle all the balls just so and breathe a little, but a couple of weeks back something tipped the balance for me and it’s like mentally i’ve been thrown off the cliff 

i can pinpoint what threw me out of whack though -- at the end of feb we got the call to return to onsite for work (my country went back into lockdown in november... we’re technically still under lockdown but employers don’t give af anymore i guess). we’re supposed to be on team a/b (team a goes in/team b works from home one week, second week the teams alternate) but i was pulled into this project immediately upon my return to the office, and i went into the office every. single. work day. in march. and because this project was so damn urgent? i was working my weekends. i worked every single day for three weeks straight until i threw a (silent) fit the final weekend and refused to open my email, and even then one of the managers was calling me at 5:20 pm that Friday as i was about to shut down my laptop. 

“luckily” i am good friends with that manager - a colleague who got the promotion recently - so i literally scream-ranted at him 80% of the time and then kicked him off the phone at 5:45 because i was fucking going to my apartment that weekend and I REFUSE TO WORK ANYMORE IT IS OFF WORK HOURS.

anyway. i am kind of not doing great. work is a mess. in october last year i was approached by my manager’s manager for a job role that was 1) effective immediately but 2) “i can’t actually tell you any details about it because it involves P&C information 3) also you can’t tell anyone because re: P&C. 

i said yes, because it’s not like i could say no (like, it’s nice they phrased it as a question and all, but i’m pretty sure the underlying message was that this is a job transfer, not a new job role offer). 

so after i said yes to the new role, i got to learn what it involved! long story short, suddenly i wasn’t working for just a manager - my new boss is getting a major promotion so the stakes are a million times higher! also, my new role reflects that, i am not only supporting literally only the VPs and senior managers (instead of working with my fellow rank and file colleagues) now, but it also involves skillsets that i don’t actually fucking have (like tracking/reporting finances! i spent my first three weeks in the new job almost crying over numbers and spreadsheets. even now i get a bit panicky when someone throws me a curveball and i don’t know how to get the information i need. i am very lucky that the actual data and finance people have been very patient with my gaps).

and to top it off, i am still just a fucking employee, although my job scope and requirements are so much more now. every single person i work with is a manager or higher so of course with their cushy pay and privileges they take the odd/long hours, and since I have the work with them I end up having to do the same. but it’s not the same because i don’t get the same fucking compensation they do and i don’t have a team that works under me. I don’t actually want that. I want work-life balance and less fucking stress. if you ask me if i would have taken the job if i knew what it involved, the honest answer is that I would not. 

(but it’s not like I had a choice really, because literally the entire company - not just our division - went through a major reorganization, so if i didn’t have my current job i think i would have no job). 

and to be fair my boss is pretty decent as far bosses go. he subjects himself to the same crazy hours that we do. he doesn’t scream or yell (like some horror stories i’ve definitely heard of others in the org). he values my work, and makes sure to tell me so. i did get a pay raise. he mentioned trying to push through a promotion mid-year (let’s see if that pans out). he knows i was very much out of my depth and gave me a lot of leeway despite the mistakes i inevitably make, but on the other hand he also got me into this fucking situation so :<

anyway. i don’t know. i’ve been struggling a lot since last october. every month and quarter close is a financial reporting and review nightmare. having to deal with office politics is hell. i was not joking when i say that playing genshin was literally the only thing keeping me sane those early months, because gaming forces me to not think/panic over work because i have to concentrate on the battles. and this past few weeks i have been depressed enough that even gaming lost its spark for me. 

i haven’t been on tumblr much lately and probably will continue to be sporadically active in the future. when i was working from home i could log in during breaks and take a breather, but now that i’m back in the office i can’t even get on twitter on my phone (because engineering company, i can’t get a good data signal inside the office due to the shielding, and i am sure as hell not checking my social media using the work wifi). i don’t really have much energy after i get home from work. and when things are bad a lot of other things kind of pile up, like falling sick easier and interrupted sleep, and the it becomes this cycle of everything just dragging you down. today i worked from home but tomorrow i’m due back in the office. 

i’m sorry if you’ve messaged me and i haven’t responded. it’s been.. really difficult. i’m hanging in here. i just don’t know when i can find my balance again. 

on a bright side? i am really, really looking forward to building houses in genshin. the thought of it feels really calming. guess they knew what they were doing when they named it serenitea pot. 

[soobiniebaby]

Angels & Devils Part VI : Slow Down

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

B’s night was starting to turn hazy as she tried to lose herself in the madness of the party.

After her dare had finished, the people at the circle had already moved on from the game and started mixing in with the rest of the party. B was dragged away by the girls to play beer pong with some of their friends, while Yeonjun was dragged away by the boys to start a dance battle in the middle of the patio. Once their 7 minutes were over, the 2 of them never got another second alone again.

And Yeonjun’s question was left hanging in the air, occupying all the space in B’s head, which she tried to drown away with alcohol.

As drunk as she was, she just couldn’t get Yeonjun out of her mind. It was like his words were swimming laps through her alcohol-filled brain. Finally, she took out her phone and started texting, knowing that she’d probably end up regretting it the next day.

The rest of the night started to feel like a blur. She had played 3 rounds of beer pong, someone had suggested that every time someone mentioned school they would have to take a shot, Kai had pulled her away from the girls and dragged her with him to the dance floor by the pool even though they were both way too drunk to do much other than jump and sway their bodies and hold onto each other for support. At one point, she remembers Soobin walking out into the backyard with a big cake as Taehyun and Beomgyu stayed by his side, holding water guns and randomly spraying cold water into the crowd as they made their way to where B and Kai were standing, everyone starting to sing one big chorus of Happy Birthday.

As the 3 boys with the cake and water guns reach Kai and B, the crowd sings one more time until Kai finally blows the candles out, which is then followed by cheers from around 200 drunk teenagers. Just as the cheers start to die down, Kai surprises everyone by grabbing a fistful of cake and flinging it in a random direction, as it ended up landing directly on Beomgyu’s shirt.

Beomgyu looks down at his ruined shirt and back up at the birthday boy, who was too busy laughing his ass off to notice that Beomgyu was holding the water gun in his direction as he let it spray.

Kai’s laughs start to turn into horrified screams as he gets sprayed with cold water. He grabs B by the shoulders and attempts to shield his body with hers, even though he was more than a whole foot taller than her. With Beomgyu targeting Kai’s chest and B being much shorter than the intended target, the water ended up spraying her right in the face.

She sputters in shock, unable to dodge due to Kai’s tight grip on her shoulders. Beomgyu puts the gun down as he realizes that he just sprayed her face. He looks at her, horrified, as he says “Oh god, I’m so sorry B! I was supposed to just spray Hyuka cause he flung cake at me.”

She wipes the water from her face before giving him a suspiciously sweet smile. “It’s all good, Gyu.” she says, as she takes a small step forward, closer to Soobin and the cake in his hands.

“Really?” Beomgyu asks, looking nervous.

B’s smile widens as she reaches a hand towards the cake. “No.” she says, as out of seemingly nowhere, she flings a piece of cake in Beomgyu’s direction. However, in her drunken state, she misses and ends up hitting Soobin squarely in the face.

He stands there completely still, eyes shut and lips pursed, as Kai starts to screech with laughter and Beomgyu attempts not to laugh, with Taehyun just watching everything unfold amusedly.

Now it’s B’s turn to look horrified as she steps towards Soobin and stands on her tiptoes, trying to wipe the cake and frosting from his face. “Soobin! Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that at all. That was supposed to be for Gyu.”

“It’s okay.” He tries and fails to say due to the heavy amount of cake on his face, as she continues to wipe bits of it off his face, being careful not to get any frosting on his shirt or his hair. She cups his face in her hands and uses her thumbs to gently wipe the frosting away from his eyes.

Once he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see how close she was standing to him. She was standing on the tips of her toes so that the top of her head would reach his nose instead of below his shoulders. She had her neck outstretched as she was looking up at him, her face full of concern, her palms on his cheeks and her thumbs resting on his cheekbones. When she sees his eyes open, her frown instantly lifts into a smile, and as her smile widens, Soobin could feel his heart rate quicken and his face go red. If it was out of embarrassment, drunkenness or something else, he wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Yay, there you are! Sorry again, for flinging cake in your face.” B says, standing back on her heels and retracting her hands from his warm face.

“Uh, it’s fine. Don’t even mention it.” Soobin says, struggling to put together coherent thoughts.

There’s a beat of silence as the insanity dies down before Taehyun decides to surprise everyone by grabbing a fistful of cake, shouting “Hyuka, catch!” and flinging it in Kai’s direction. Kai screams and manages to swat the piece of cake away with his arm, only for it to land on top of B’s head.

B could feel her face heat up as she turns around, a low rumble coming from her throat, and she faces Kai with a deranged look on her face. Kai gulps, recognizing the rare look. It was her look of death, which he hadn’t seen in over 13 years.

“Hue. Ning. Kai.” she says quietly, annunciating every syllable. Kai smiles sheepishly and attempts to apologize, but then B lets out a playful roar as she tackles him, and they both fall into the swimming pool.

The crowd erupts in cheers and laughter again as B attempts to wrestle Kai in the pool, which she fails to do so since they end up falling into the part of the pool that was 6 feet deep. She ended up clinging on to her tall best friend like a cat trying to claw its way up a tree.

“Tyun, why did you fling cake at Hyuka?” Beomgyu asks as everyone watches the 2 childhood friends struggle in the pool. “I mean don’t get me wrong I loved that you did it, it was awesome, but why?”

Taehyun shrugs as he says. “Guess I just wanted to be part of the fun. It was worth it. Too bad Yeonjun had to leave early, he would’ve loved it too.”

“Yeah, too bad.” Soobin says, the remaining frosting on his face was starting to feel uncomfortably sticky. “I think I’m gonna wash this frosting off and get changed. You guys good?”

Taehyun nods. “Yeah, I’ll stay here, watch the party die down. People are already starting to leave, so it shouldn’t be long now.”

Beomgyu puts an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders. “Same here. There wasn’t much frosting on the piece of cake that Hyuka hit me with, so I think my shirt will survive.” he says, as he looks down at his barely soiled shirt.

Soobin nods and hands the cake over to Taehyun before turning around to make his way into the house. Before he gets too far, he feels a soaked pair of arms wrap themselves around his torso from behind and start to rub his stomach, so now not only did he have sticky cake on his face, but also a wet shirt and a violated stomach.

“Soobinie, help me.” Kai says from behind him. Soobin turns around and sees Kai pouting and B following him, both soaked from their squabble in the pool.

He laughs at the sight of them, soaked and shivering, before saying “Alright, follow me.” and the 3 of them make their way into the house.

•°•

“Wow Soobin, your house is amazing!” B says, as the 2 of them follow Soobin into his huge house, through the backdoor into the kitchen, to the foyer, up the grand staircase, and through endless doors and hallways. “And you live here alone?”

Soobin nods. “Yep, no family members. I keep insisting that the help occupy some of the guest rooms up here instead of hiding out in the maid’s quarters, but they don’t seem to think it’s a good idea.”

“Well it does seem pretty lonely, having to live up here all by yourself.” B remarks, eyes wandering the halls. The house had a very modern feel to it and was very minimalistic.

“Don’t worry Soobinie, Hueningkai will come visit you everyday from now on!” Kai slurs, his arms still around Soobin’s torso. The older boy was practically dragging the birthday boy through the house.

Soobin laughs. “No need for that Hueningie.” he says, mimicking him. “Hosting this party was pretty fun, it’s nice to see other people around here.”

They stop when they reach a door at the end of the hallway. Soobin props the drunk boy against his body as he turns the doorknob. “Here we are. Uh, please take off your shoes and put leave them by the door if you can.”

Soobin leads them into the room, calling out “Alexa, turn lights on dim to 50%” as dim light fills the room, kicking off his shoes and putting them on the shoe rack right by the bedroom door before dumping Kai into a bean bag on the floor close to his entertainment system, which included a TV, some big speakers, and loads of videogames and gaming consoles.

“Wow, your room is huge. If I lived here, I’d probably never get bored.” B says, kicking off her black sneakers before twirling around the room as she looks around in amazement.

“I said it gets lonely, but I wouldn’t say it gets boring.” Soobin says as he wanders into his bathroom in search of towels. “And are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t you feel dizzy?” he remarks as he walks back into the bedroom, watching her twirl around.

“I can’t help it!” B exclaims, putting her arms out as she continues to twirl around. “I feel so light and buzzy and—”

“Drenched and freezing cold?” he interrupts, holding out a towel towards her.

She twirls towards him then, attempting to grab the towel from his hand as she does so, but instead she loses her balance and ends up collapsing on a bean bag next to the one Kai was currently passed out on, the towel she attempted to grab landed on top of her, covering the whole upper half of her body.

“B! Are you okay?” Soobin calls out, rushing to her side and tossing the 2 towels on their passed out friend before kneeling by B’s side.

B waves an arm in the air above her in an attempt to get the towel off, but instead she ends up whacking Soobin up his chin, which he responds to with an “Ouchie, B what—”

Upon realizing that she had accidentally troubled Soobin for the second time that night, B sits straight up, not realizing just how close Soobin was as the top of her head ends up colliding with the bottom of his chin.

“Ouch! B what are you—?” he exclaims again, eyes squeeze shut as he tries to endure the pain, his hand rubbing his chin.

B’s eyes widen as she realizes that she hurt him yet again. “Soobin! Oh my god, I am so so so sorry! I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve apologized to you tonight, but I just can’t help it, I’m sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy, I think I’m just really drunk, I—” B starts to ramble on in panic, sitting up and attempting to comfort him, cupping his face in her hands for the second time that night as she tilts his chin up, trying to assess for any damage.

Soobin, surprised by her sudden close proximity, couldn’t help but sit there frozen, trying to will himself to say something, anything, instead of just staring at her and feeling the warmth of her hands on his face as she focused solely on his chin.

“Oh gosh, I think that’ll form a small bruise. I should go down to get some ice.” B says, pulling her hands away. As she starts to stand up, Soobin snaps out of it and immediately stands up, saying “I’ve got ice in the mini fridge right by my bed. I’ll get it.” and off he went to the other side of the room, where the bed and the entrance to the bathroom were.

“You have a mini fridge by your bed? Wow, that’s actually a genius idea.” B remarks as Soobin returns to her side with a few ice cubes wrapped in a face towel.

“It’s probably my favorite thing about this room.” he agrees. “By the way, I’m fine. No need to apologize, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

B raises a brow as she grabs the ice from his hands and hold it up to his chin, which he tries not to noticeably wince to.

“Seriously, I’m fine. I’ve got this.” he insists, trying to take the ice from her hand but he ends up just cupping her hand in his, suddenly highly aware of just how small her hands were compared to his.

B pulls her hand away from the ice pack reluctantly. “Alright, if you say so. I’m still sorry though.”

Soobin laughs softly. “Wow, you’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I am very aware of that fact, yes. It’s how I get what I want.” she says, shrugging. She grabs the towel that caused the soon-to-be bruise on Soobin’s cheek and starts rubbing it against her face and hair. “Thanks for this, by the way. This is a very nice towel. Very soft, very warm, very absorbent. 10/10, would highly recommend.”

Soobin laughs out loud. “You’re so weird! And you’re welcome. You want to change out of your wet clothes, by the way? I can lend you a shirt if you want, or I think my sister still left some of her clothes in her room if you’d prefer that.”

B shakes her head violently. “No need for that, you’ve already done so much and I’ve already caused you so much trouble tonight. You just sit right there.”

“Are you sure? I can at least lend you a jacket to help stop you from shivering?” he offers, full of concern.

She sighs, knowing it would probably be a good idea. “Alright, I’ll give it back to you ASAP.”

He nods and stands up, once again walking over to the other side of the bedroom, rummaging through his wardrobe before returning to her side. He offers her his plain gray hoodie with single black stripes along the arms, which she gratefully accepts.

She finishes rubbing the towel against her wet clothes, drying her arms, legs and feet before putting on his hoodie, which smelled strongly of baby powder and vanilla. Soobin’s scent. B grabs another towel and kneels over her best friend then, who was passed out cold.

“Wow, I’ve never seen Ningning this drunk before. I wonder if he’ll remember any of this tomorrow.” she says, as she begins to rub the towel against his hair.

“I don’t think I have, either. We usually only drink when we’re celebrating something, and we only throw big parties for birthdays and other special occasions. It’s the first time we let him get this wasted, though.” Soobin says.

Just then, Soobin hears his phone ringing. He fishes it out of his pocket and checks the caller ID.

“It’s Yeonjun.” he says, pleasantly surprised. He smiles as he answers the call. “Hey, Yeonjun. What’s up?”

B turns away as Soobin talks to Yeonjun on the phone, focusing on Kai and rubbing the towel on his wet clothes. Just then, her hands freeze in place as she remembers the onslaught of drunk texts she sent out earlier that night. She quickly crawls to her purse, which was on the bean bag she fell into, and checks her phone in horror, re-reading the messages she sent.

“B’s here with me, right now.” Soobin says, which immediately catches B’s attention. She looks up at Soobin then, wondering what the 2 boys were talking about.

“Yeah, she and Hyuka had a little fun in the pool. I really wish you could’ve stayed, you missed so much.” Soobin says fondly. “I bet if you had stayed, you would have ended up with cake in your face too.”

“I said I was sorry about that.” B says quietly, pouting at Soobin, which causes him to laugh. He covers the bottom of his phone with his hand as he tells her “And I forgive you.” before uncovering his phone and saying “Yeah, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow during clean up.”

“Clean up?” B mouths at him.

Soobin covers his phone again as he explains, “Yeah, the guys all agreed to come over tomorrow at 10 AM to help with cleaning up, though most of them will probably be too hung over to really help out. You wanna come? It’ll just be us 5, plus you if you wanna.”

B nods. “Sure thing, I’ll try to be here as early as possible.”

Soobin smiles before turning his attention back to his phone. “Oh, B says she wants to come over for clean up tomorrow.”

B focuses on Kai again, knowing it was pointless to try to dry his clothes. His pullover and jeans were too thick and heavy to dry with just a towel. Instead, she tries shove the towel under his pullover and wraps it around his torso so that the cold water wouldn’t be touching his back or chest.

“You wanna talk to her? Sure, hang on.” Soobin says, reaching his phone out to B. “Yeonjun wants to say hi.”

She smiles as she takes the phone, and Soobin takes B’s spot in front of Kai. “Hi, Yeonjun.”

“Hey Baby, how are you feeling? Are you still drunk?” he asks.

B’s face begins to heat up, knowing he was referring to the drunk texts she sent earlier. “Yeah, no, I’m fine now. A quick dip in the pool sobered me up a bit.” she says sheepishly. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to.”

She hears him chuckle through the phone. “No way, they say drunk thoughts produce honest words, or something like that. So, you think I’m cute?”

She felt like her face was burning up now, and prays that Soobin wouldn’t notice. She quickly looks over at him and sees that he’s managed to get Kai out of his wet pullover and into a dry shirt, and he had a pair of clean blue jeans by his side ready to be worn. He was in the process of trying to pull off the younger boy’s pants when his eyes meet hers, and there’s a beat of silence as they realize how awkward the sight of Soobin taking Kai’s jeans off was.

“It’s not what it looks like! I’m just getting him into warm clothes!” Soobin says defensively as B turns away, giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Yeonjun asks.

“Oh nothing, Soobin’s just trying to get Ningning into some dry clothes.” she says.

“Ah, I can imagine how that would be funny.” he says, chuckling. “By the way, how will you get home?”

“Oh, I was thinking I could call for a cab with Taehyun or something since we live in the same building.” B says.

“That’s good, where’s Tyun right now?”

“Uh, I think we left him with Gyu before we came inside? I’ll text him in a bit, I should probably head home soon anyway.” B replies.

“Alright alright, I’ll check in with Tyun and Gyu as well. Goodnight, Baby.” Yeonjun says.

“Night, Yeonjun.” she responds, before handing the phone back to Soobin, who had successfully gotten Kai changed into dry clothes.

As Soobin takes the phone, B crawls back to Kai’s side, running her fingers through his hair to check if his hair was already dry. She pulls out her phone and sends Taehyun a text.

She frowns, staring at the screen, as she notices that the boys’ contact names and photos had been changed.

“What the heck? Who did this with to my phone?” she wonders out loud.

“Oh, Hyuka messed with your contacts and spammed your camera roll with random pictures while you were in the shed with Yeonjun.” Soobin answers, his phone in his hand as his call with Yeonjun finishes.

“You know, I was starting to feel a bit guilty about tackling him into the pool, but I have 0 regrets now.” B says, hitting Kai’s arm playfully, which was met with no reaction. “Wow, he’s really out cold. How will he get home?”

“Ah, he can sleep here. Anyone who’s too drunk and can’t make it home on their own is welcome to sleep over, though most people usually end up sober by the end of the night or catch a ride with sober friends.” Soobin explains. “It’s how house parties around here usually work.”

B nods. “I see I see. Well, I’ve texted Tyun and he says he’s good to go. I’ll just call for a cab and we’ll be on our way.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you guys home? Or I could ask one of my family’s drivers to take you, since I don’t trust myself enough to drive with alcohol in my system.” Soobin offers.

B shakes her head. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t want to put you through any more trouble than I already have tonight.”

“I insist. You and Tyun are 2 of my closest friends, so I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ll just let the driver know and he’ll be ready to drop you off. I have to stay here and watch over everyone.” Soobin insists.

Sensing that Soobin wouldn’t let her off the hook, she finally agrees. “Alright, thanks, Soobin. You’re the best.” she says, smiling at him gratefully.

He smiles back at her warmly. “No problem.”

•°•

B wakes up in bed the next day due to the sound of her phone being spammed with text messages. She rolls over in bed is instantly hit with a wave of dizziness.

She groans as she reaches for the glass of water she prepared in advance on her night stand, taking small sips of it until her mouth didn’t feel like it was lined with chalk anymore.

She puts the glass down and grabs the bottle of Gatorade she left in advance as well, trying to drink as much of it as she could, hoping that the electrolytes from the energy drink would replenish her body’s needs.

Finally, she grabs her phone and checks her messages only to see that it was from the boys.

Soobin smiles to himself as he puts his phone down and stares down at the 2 boys passed out on his bedroom floor. He had gotten used to taking care of his friends whenever they’ve had a little too much to drink, but he knew that having them pass out in the bean bags on his bedroom floor was the easiest part. Once they’d wake up with inevitable hangovers, he knew that it would be harder for him to nurse them back to sobriety. He was hoping that there would be no vomit this time, though at least he could ask for help from his household staff if any vomit would be present.

With the rest of the group on the way to his house, Soobin figured it was time to face the horror of dealing with the 2 hungover boys. He kneels down and says, as loudly and brightly as possible “Huningie! Beomie! Rise and shine!” while putting one hand on each boy’s thighs and shaking them as furiously and as violently as he could.

The 2 boys instantly start to groan dramatically, Hueningkai burying his face in Beomgyu’s chest and the latter covering his ears with his hands.

Soobin repeats the procedure until Beomgyu finally snaps, randomly kicking his legs in the direction of the noise and sitting up, eyes squeezed shut as they adjusted to the light flooding into Soobin’s bedroom.

“Jesus fucking hell, Choi. Why are you torturing me?” Beomgyu says, his voice cracking as dryness burns his throat, his head throbbing from dehydration.

Soobin smiles widely at him, glad to get a reaction out of him. “Good morning to you too, Choi.” He hands Beomgyu a bottle of Gatorade, which the boy accepts as he desperately downs it all. “B and the boys are on their way here for clean up, so you and Hyuka have to get up soon.” he says.

Beomgyu wipes his mouth as he finishes the last of the Gatorade, blinking his eyes until the room stopped spinning. “Ah yeah, clean up. Almost forgot about that.” he says, his voice still hoarse. “I didn’t know B was coming, though. I thought we were gonna practice for our Club Recruitment performance?”

Soobin’s mouth drops open a bit as he realizes that he completely forgot about their final rehearsal. They were set to perform a special number that Monday for club recruitment day, and they had agreed to have their final rehearsals on Saturday afternoon, which was today.

“Oh wow, now that I forgot about.” Soobin admits. “I was actually the one who invited B to join us for clean up, I completely forgot that we would be rehearsing this afternoon.”

Beomgyu shrugs. “She can watch us practice, I wouldn’t mind, and I’m pretty sure the other guys wouldn’t really mind either. We’re having rehearsals here anyway, so she can just hang around if she wants to.”

Soobin nods. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t get to tell her that we’d be rehearsing later though. I hope she won’t mind.” he says, suddenly overthinking the whole thing.

“I’m sure she won’t, don’t sweat it.” Beomgyu says, noticing how worried Soobin looked. “Actually, why are you sweating it? You seem really worried.”

“I’m not sweating it.” Soobin says defensively. “I just—I’m used to performing on stage in front of faceless audience members. I’m not used to performing with someone watching right there in the room?”

“Soobin, are you…shy?” Beomgyu asks.

Soobin starts to feel his face heat up. “Kind of, I guess? When we rehearse for performances, it’s always just us and the other club members. I guess the thought of 1 person watching from such a close proximity just makes me feel different.”

“Aw, it’s okay Binnie. You always look great when you perform, and I’m sure B’s not the kind who would judge or criticize.” Beomgyu says comfortingly. “I don’t get why you’re getting all shy anyway, it’s just B.”

“Yeah, it’s just B.” Soobin says to himself. Why was he getting so worked up over it?

“My head’s pounding like crazy, jeez.” Beomgyu says suddenly, groaning as he grabs his head. “What time is it?”

Soobin looks at the clock on his desk as he answers “It’s 10:03.”

Beomgyu chuckles. “Ah yeah, we were supposed to meet up at 10AM. Shit, I didn’t mean to get so drunk, I was trying to avoid a hangover. Please tell me that there will be breakfast waiting for us downstairs.”

“Breakfast? Always. The sooner we get Hyuka up and running, the sooner we can eat. C’mon, help me.” Soobin pleads, which Beomgyu gamely accepts.

The 2 boys kneel over on each side of their unconscious friend, looking at each other as they prepare to wake him up.

“On the count of 3.” Soobin says, and Beomgyu nods. “1…2…3!”

The 2 boys put both of their hands on Hueningkai’s arms and legs, as they shout “Rise and shine, Hueningkai!” and violently shake him awake.

Hueningkai shoots up screaming in panic, then slowly lies back down, while groaning and holding his head, as the 2 boys roar with laughter.

“I hate you.” Hueningkai groans, his palms squeezing into his temples.

“We love you too!” the 2 boys respond cheerfully.

•°•

“Is it just me, or does Soobin’s house look a little different in the daytime?” B asks Taehyun as they step out of the cab and walk up to the front door of Soobin’s house.

“What do you mean?” Taehyun asks, before ringing the doorbell.

“I guess it looks less like a spoiled rich kid’s party mansion and just more…cold?”

Taehyun raises a brow at B, confused. “Cold?”

“Not cold like in a bad way.” B says, trying to explain express her thoughts. “More like, it looks like the house of a lonely bachelor or something.”

Taehyun looks up at the house again and says “Yeah, I guess I see what you mean.” just as the front doors open in front of them and they’re greeted by Soobin himself.

“Tyun! B! You’re here!” Soobin says cheerfully, looking nothing like the lonely bachelor one would picture living in the house. “Come in, everyone else is already here.” he says, letting them in and closing the door behind them. They follow him down the hallway until they reach the dining room.

Beomgyu, Yeonjun, and Kai were all seated at the round table, which looked like it could fit at least 12 people, and was full of an extravagant breakfast menu that looked like they could be props for a tea party scene in a movie about royals. The dining room had glass doors and windows that overlooked the entire side garden of the house, where B and Kai had passed through the night before to get to the backyard.

Beomgyu looked much better than he did in the picture Soobin had sent to the group earlier, almost like he wasn’t hungover, as he was stuffing his face with food. Yeonjun was sitting back in his seat, his phone on the table, as he sipped out of a teacup. Kai, however, was wearing a pair of sunglasses and had his face resting on his hands, his elbows up on the table and food untouched.

“Good morning, everyone! Wow this food looks amazing!” B says in awe as she and Taehyun take their seats between Kai and Soobin.

“Baba? Is that you?” Kai croaks, his voice still hoarse.

“Yup, the one and only. How you feeling, Ninging? Did the birthday boy party too hardy last night?” B asks teasingly.

Kai groans, covering his ears with his hands. “Ugh, shut up. Your voice sounds like it’s searing into my brain.”

“Well good morning to you, too.” B says, leaning over to ruffle his hair teasingly.

“Gyu, you’re looking better. How are you feeling?” Taehyun asks as he begins to fill his plate with food.

“I’m feeling good. The hangover wasn’t too bad, I think it would’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t made me chug all that water before you dumped me in Soobin’s room last night.” Beomgyu says, recalling how Taehyun practically drowned him with drinking water before he passed out.

Taehyun laughs pleasantly. “That’s good to hear. It was for your own good, you know.”

“Yeah, I honestly thought you were trying to kill me last night, but now I know you were just trying to save me. Thanks, Tyunnie.” Beomgyu says in a teasingly cute way.

“Don’t mention it.” Taehyun says, laughing again.

“Too bad I had to leave early last night, sounds like the party really began right after I left.” Yeonjun remarks.

“It was pretty fun, but there were good moments while you were still there too!” Soobin says, taking his seat between Yeonjun and Taehyun. “Remember, you gave me that lap dance? I thought I was gonna burst from embarrassment.” he recalls, cringing at the memory.

“Shut up, you know you liked it, Soob. You’re welcome, by the way.” Yeonjun says teasingly, watching as Soobin’s face started to turn red again.

“Let’s not forget those 7 minutes between you and B, I’m sure that was fun.” Beomgyu remarks, looking back and forth between the 2 of them. “What did you guys do for 7 minutes?” he asks curiously.

“Uh-huh, we agreed that whatever happened in the shed stays in the shed.” B says, sticking her tongue out at Beomgyu. She was hoping that everything that had happened in the shed would be locked away forever, and that she wouldn’t have to face Yeonjun alone again.

“You’re the one who said that, and technically I never agreed to it.” Yeonjun says slyly, with a cheeky grin on his face.

B’s mouth hangs open in an O, and Kai seemingly reanimates back to life as he sits straight up, whips his sunglasses off, and exclaims “What did you do to my best friend?!” looking at Yeonjun suspiciously.

“No no, nothing like that, get your mind out of the gutter, Hyuka.” Yeonjun says, putting his hands up in front of him defensively. “We just talked, it was all innocent, I swear.”

“Yeah, don’t worry Ningning it was nothing like that at all!” B says as well, flustered that Kai would think like that. “We just talked. Really.”

Kai remains suspicious, looking at the 2 back and forth. “Alright, what did you talk about then? Is there anything I should know about?”

“No! Nothing at all. We just talked like the 2 friends that we are. Plus, we had an agreement that nothing would leave the 4 walls of that shed.” B says, her face starting to flush red. She looks at Yeonjun pleadingly, hoping that he would help her out.

Yeonjun nods. “Yup. Just talked. Like the 2 friends that we are. Nothing will leave the 4 walls of that shed.” he said, repeating what she said.

Kai glares at the 2 of them for a bit longer before finally letting it go. “Alright, let’s say I believe you. But if there’s something I should know about that you’re not telling me, I better not hear it from someone else.” he says pointedly at his best friend.

“Yes, I promise.” B says, crossing her fingers under the table. Technically speaking, there really wasn’t anything to tell him yet. Yeonjun had asked her out, she never got to respond, and the question would forever be locked away in the shed, never to be spoken of beyond those 4 walls. It wasn’t like she was dating anyone or anything, so there wasn’t anything that Kai needed to know about.

They move on from the topic then, their discussions ranging from the amount of clean up they had to do to do the rehearsals they would have that afternoon.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were performing this Monday! Are you all members of the Jazzed club?” B says excitedly.

Taehyun nods. “Yeah, I think we were all drawn to it from the start. The club mostly focuses on music, such as singing, writing, producing, playing instruments, and even performing which sometimes requires some dancing. But to make the Club Recruitment showcase more interesting, we decided to incorporate a little bit of rap to our performance as well, which is a bit of a challenge.”

“Oh my gosh, I could hardly imagine the 5 of you singing and dancing together, but rapping? That is definitely something I’d wanna see.” she says, getting more excited by the minute. “Can I watch you guys rehearse? Please, pretty please?” she asks, giving puppy dog eyes at everyone around the table.

They all look at Soobin to see his response, and he just nods cheerfully. “Yeah sure, why not? We’ll be starting rehearsals at 1PM, just here in one of the rooms. You’re welcome to stay if you want to.”

B grins, giddy with excitement. “Yay, thank you so much! I can’t wait to see what you guys have put together. I’m sure everyone will love it.”

As everyone finishes up with their brunch, their empty dishes being taken away one by one, B excuses herself from the table to go to the bathroom.

“The nearest bathroom is down the hall, the first door on the right.” Soobin says, directing her.

She quickly makes her way to the bathroom then, trying to be as quick and clean as she could. As she finishes and closes the door behind her, she’s surprised to see someone waiting outside.

“Yeonjun, jeez! You scared me.” B says, feeling her heartrate pick up.

“Why would you be scared?” Yeonjun asks, chuckling. “C’mon, come with me for a moment. I just wanted to show you something.” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him.

B let him pull her, praying that he couldn’t feel her pulse racing through her wrist.

He leads her down the hall, passing by the doors of the dining hall and straight to the kitchen, which led to the backyard.

“Where are we going?” she asks him, shielding her eyes with one hand as the sunlight poured down on them out by the pool.

“I think I left something in the shed last night, I was hoping you could help me with it.” he simply says, leading the way to the shed.

He opens the door and steps inside, pulling her in with him. The heavy door closes behind them, and they find themselves in the dim light of the shed once again. She notes that while last night it was pitch black, this time there was at least a little bit of light, just enough so that B could make out the outline of everything in the shed.

B starts to look around the shed, her eyes struggling to adjust from the searing brightness to the dim light. “Alright, so what did you leave here? What are we looking for? Is it a wallet? A ring?” she asks as she looks at the ground, trying to spot what he might have left behind.

“We’re not here to look for anything.” Yeonjun begins slowly. B looks at him, confused.

“So what is it? You said you left something here last night, right?” she asks.

“I left a question, and I was hoping you could help me with the answer.” Yeonjun reveals, looking at her intently. “You said last night that whatever happens in this shed stays in this shed, so here we are, back in the said shed.”

She could hear her heart pounding through her ears as she forces herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t escape it now, especially since they were in the shed. Even though she already knew what he was going to say, she asks “Alright, so what’s the question?”

He smiles at her then, amused. He knew that she knew what he was talking about.

“Baby, will you go out with me?”

She holds her breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to avoid this forever. Technically, she had the whole night to think about what she would answer, but now that the moment was actually here again, her thoughts were scrambled.

She counts her breaths, 1 2 3, before exhaling and giving him her answer.

“No.”

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

[can-u-imagine-that]

Title: Forgiveness;

Fandom: The Avengers;

Character: Bucky;

Note: Y/N: Your Name; Y/E/C: Your Eye Color;

Warning: Violence;

Request: Can you please do one with Bucky and a female reader where someone gets him in Winter Soldier mode and he ends up hurting her? And then feels super bad about it but she reassures him its not his fault. Thx <3

You had no idea how you got into that situation.

Each time Bucky swing his fists, they got closer and closer to hitting your face.

The Winter Soldier started to suddenly attack all the Avengers with full force after a weird man managed to get himself alone with him. You were nothing but a S.H.I.E.L.D field trainee so all you could do was avoid the heavy and skilled fists of the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N, dodge!” Captain America shouted behind your back, so you, in a complete blind trust wave, rolled to your left, hearing when his shield collided with Bucky’s chest.

They engaged on a fierce fight, both having super soldier abilities making it hard for you to even comprehend their moves.

Bucky had a look on his face that gave you chills.

Nothing.

Literally nothing.

And that hurt you pretty bad because you grew close to him, developing an actual huge crush on the ex-HYDRA agent. He was hard to get close to, but since Bucky was the one being your trainer, you got to spent a lot of time together.

And seeing him acting as the Winter Soldier again made your heart ache because he told you after the 15th time he got you purple bruises how much he suffered.

He just told you because you two had a little game.

Every time he got you a new purple bruise mark, you’d ask him a question about anything you wanted. You once asked for it as a joke and in the end he took it seriously.

It started with silly questions but soon they were replaced by serious ones. He never minded answering though and you enjoyed a lot how honest he could be with you. You felt honored to have his trust, because given his past he had a lot of issues to allow himself to grow close to anyone. The man had built walls around him, walls that after a lot of time you finally managed to break.

You could feel in your heart and it made you the happiest person in the world. To see his rare smiles and to watch him as sometimes he would insist in tending to your scratches from training.

Seeing the Winter Soldier instead of James Buchanan Barnes hurt.

An explosion happened and you saw Cap being throw somewhere down the window of the building.

You were alone with him.

You froze in fear when his icy blue eyes locked in your Y/E/C ones.

“B-Bucky...” you whispered, leaning slowly towards and iron pipe that was ripped out of the wall “It’s me... remember?”

For a second something shifted in his eyes and a little tingle of hope twisted in your stomach. But as soon as you felt, it was already gone, replaced by a groan while he charged against you.

You swing the pipe in his direction but he grabbed easily. It felt like you were a kid hitting their parents with a silly plastic toy.

He crushed the pipe with his metal arm while the other flew on the direction of your face. You managed to dodge, feeling at least a little better that his fighting style was the same. You could keep avoiding his blows until someone got there.

Just as you felt a little braver after dodging another blow, he got you.

And he got you bad.

He kicked you right in your ribcage, making you lose your breath and drop your defensive stance. He pushed his metal hand right into your face, making you fall on the ground, hitting your head hard. Thankfully you had the S.H.I.E.L.D helmet on which helped easing the blow. Even so you were completely dizzy, but managed to grab a rock that had fallen from the wall where Captain America’s shield had hit after colliding with Bucky and hit him right in the forehead with it.

You stop up, runing towards the entrance, knowing you had no chance against him in a combat.

Running you found the stairs that lead to the main entrance hal of the Avenger’s Facility, but as you were quickly going down he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you against the wall.

Yep, there goes another rib.

“Bucky! Bucky, please!” you pleaded, completely scared.

This time you saw nothing reflect in his eyes, but somehow his grip losened and you pushed him away, finishing your descent through the stairs ending on the hal.

Just a little bit more.

The pain on your sides was starting to become unbearable, but you kept running.

And then he caught up with you again.

And this time you were not so lucky.

Bucky managed to grab the back of your neck, lifting you out of the ground while you kicked and debated. Then he approached a wall and slamed you against it. You used your arms to protect your face and remain awake.

Your vision started to blur and when you noticed he was going to slam you again in a last attempt to escape you passed your arm around his, turning half of your body in his direction, kicking his chest with all your strength. He lost balance and with the balance his grip also loosened. You squirmed out of his metal fingers, falling with a loud sound to the ground on your belly.

“H-help...” you gasped, dragging your numb body to escape. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him, twisting your body so that you were facing up, then sat on your waist, locking your body under his.

Your scream echoed throughout the building.

And then he punched.

The first punch hurt like a bitch.

The second like your weak stepmother when you got to her nerves.

The third like a small push.

On the fourth punch you didn’t feel anything.

You blacked out, but had lapses of consciousness. You remember hearing voices all around you and then someone carring you outside, since the sunlight blinded you for a second. Being put in the stretcher and looking to the courtyard of the Avenger’s Facility. When you looked there you remember seeing Bucky. 

Your Bucky.

And he had a desperate look in his eyes when his gaze met yours.

You wanted to say something, but your vision started to blur completely again.

And this time you just woke up again in the hospital, with voices around your bed.

“How do you know you can trust him? Look what he did to Y/N!”

“It wasn’t him and you know!”

“Whatever man. What if another crazy lunatic gets in here and recites the magical bibbidi bobbidi boo and boom super Winter Killer at your service?”

Silence.

“She was lucky, Steve. And you know it. She was lucky she had that helmet on and lucky she knew most of his usual moves. Otherwise, she might’ve been dead by now.”

“He is already feeling like shit, Sam. I don’t want to make things worse...”

You groaned and the voices came to a halt.

“Y/N?”

You coughed a little.

“Hi...”

While trying to open your eyes you felt a sting of pain and noticed that the left one was a little swollen.

“You were out for a whole day.” stated Captain America, sat on a chair at the edge of your bed.

“Whe-... Where’s B-Bucky?”

Steve smiled. You were out for a hole day, probably had your entire body completely sore yet the first thing you inquire about is Bucky’s whereabouts.

“Locked.” you heard Sam’s voice, but couldn’t turn your head enough in the neck brace to see him.

“No... how could you?” if your throat wasn’t sore, you’d have said louder, but it came almost as a painful whimper.

Sam sat on the feet of the bed, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Look what he did to you, Y/N. I don’t care what you feel about him, but this kind of thing can’t become a trend. We were lucky the media didn’t hear of any of this. Otherwise, things could’ve gone worse for him.” he explained, trying to remain calm “Besides. He asked for it.”

Of course he did. He probably felt like trash.

“It’s not his fault...” you muttered after a pause.

Sam sighed.

“I know that. Believe me, I do. But while we can’t figure out who that guy was and how the hell he managed to find that code to activade Bucky’s killer mode, he wants to be locked away, somewhere only Captain and Nick Furry know.” he explained.

You remained silent.

No way.

You had to see him.

Had to tell him you didn’t blame him or anything about it. Because you knew him enough to know how bad he was feeling. He hadn’t hurt only you. He knocked out three other S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Luckly there were no casualities. 

When Sam left you and Steve alone you turned to the blond.

“I know what you’re going to ask and I can’t.” through his voice tone you knew that he would not be that hard convincing.

“Please... Cap... I need to see him. Talk to him. You can take me blindfolded if you want. Just one time is enough. You know he needs to hear me out.”

“He does. But not in your actual state, Y/N. If he see you that bruised, you know he will never forgive himself. Just...” his hands roamed through his hair “Just... let the swolleness on your eye get better.”

You nodded.

“Thank you...” you smiled a little at him “I mean it, Steve...”

--

The week passed slowly.

T O O   S L O W L Y.

Your eye was finally not swollen, but still had a purple hue around it. But you couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. You had no idea of how both of you would react seeing each other, but soon you would find out.

Captain took you to whatever facility that was blindfolded as promised.

When you were able to see around you again your heart clenched. Heck it looked like a freaking dungeon. It wasn’t light enough, the walls where clearly really thick and the cells looked like actual prisions with iron bars (which were probably made out of Vibranium).

You looked at Steve.

“This is where he is being held?”

Steve seemed to share your thoughts, looking sadly at the cells.

“Unfortunately this was the only S.H.I.E.L.D facility completely hidden from any file and not being used for anything. Furry said it was build especialy for Soldiers like us.”

“You mean him...” you muttered biterly.

He sighed.

“He is on the last cell with the 2-014 number. I’ll wait for you here. Take as long as you need. You just need to put on this code on the panel.” he handed you a piece of paper with a long number code.

You thanked him, walking towards the end of the corridor, feeling as your legs seemed to weight a ton each.

Finding the cell, you digited the number, noticing how your fingers trembled.

Bucky sat on the ground even though there was a bed and a chair on the room. He had his elbows supported by his knees and his head hang low. His hair made it hard for you to see his face and he didn’t even flinch when the door opened.

You licked your dry lips, the tears welling up on the corners of your eyes already, just by the sight of his depressed demeanor.

“B-Bucky?” you tried, flinching when his head shot up abruptly.

You were the last person he ever expected to see there.

He stared at you for a long while, getting up slowly. All the words disappeared from your mind under his piercing gaze. Bucky was acting as if you were a ghost, his eyes going from the top of your head to your feet. He reached to your face, his fingers lingering near your cheek without touching you. And you knew why.

Gulping you lifted your own hand, holding his hesitant one and pressing it against your face.

He let out a breath as his other hand made the same path, this time straight to your cheek.

“Y-Y/N...” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken “Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes closed while his forehead touched yours, making your stomach round the twist on your belly. Bucky was never that... physical except when he really needed to. You could feel the hurt on his voice and it broke your heart.

“I’m okay... it’s not your fault...” you whispered.

You barely finished what you had said and he snapped out of whatever it was he was feeling, walking away from you.

Uh-oh. Stupid mouth, should have remained silent. You scolded yourself in your head.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” he said, his voice suddenly cold, turning his back to you “I’ll tell Furry that Steve can’t be trusted with the information of where I’m placed.”

“Steve didn’t tell me where we are. He brought me here with my eyes blindfolded.” you explained in a shaky voice “Bucky, look at me, please...”

“I’m sorry...” he repeated “I can’t look at you...”

“What? Why not?” you asked a little louder this time, taking a step closer to him but stopping when he closed his hands in fists “Bucky. Why not?”

“Y/N, please leave.”

“No, I won’t leave.”

“Yes, you will. You have to, right now, STEVE!” he called loudly, making you jump a little back.

“NO! STEVE DON’T YOU DARE TO COME HERE.” you screamed back “And you, turn and look at me, now!”

“I don’t want to, Y/N!”

“WHY NOT?”

“BECAUSE-” he turned and you widened your eyes when you saw his blue eyes glossy with unfalling tears. He continued with a softer voice while his eyes averted to the side “Because. I can’t look at you... with all these purple bruises and this bandages... knowing that I did it. That I hurt you.”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer to him again.

“Bucky... I don’t blame you for this-”

“I know you don’t.” he interrupted, noticing how close you were but being unable to walk away “That’s the problem. You should.”

“Never.” you slowly reached to his face, feeling his stubble and slipping to his hair, watching how he didn’t move away from you, actually leaning into your touch. He was so painfuly and obviously broken and even tired of blaming himself “I will never blame you for what those people did to you. You will always be the kindest trainer I ever had. Who pushes me to the edge but who also tends my wounds. Who has all the patience in the world with my silly questions. The strongest and bravest men I’ve seen and not because of your physical strenght, but because of yout heart. After everything we’ve talked about... after I learned all those things you had to go through. Do you really think I would blame you? After getting to know who you really are? Hell, Bucky, I even feel in love with you.”

The last part actually wasn’t supposed to be said, but it came out so naturally you just noticed when he inhaled sharply, hugging the air out of your body in a bone crushing embrace.

“Ah, broken ribs, ribs, ribs.” you whispered, actually riping out a little laugh of him. He loosened his arms, still holding you, this time lightly and you couldn’t help but crack a little joke being actually really freaking nervous because you just confessed your feelings without intending to “Y’know... I think I rather you breaking my bones this way...”

“You are unbelievable.” he whispered against your neck, making you shiver a bit “I don’t even know what I can do to earn your forgiveness...”

You whacked the back of his head.

“I already told you that it’s okay.” you allowed yourself to hug him back, feeling your heart skip a beat when he kissed your forehead gently “But if it makes you feel better we can try that little game of ours..”

He looked at you, never letting go of your waist, questionly.

“I don’t think any question you can ask will ever be enough to suffice the amount of bruises I gave you.” he stated, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Then perhaps we can boost it. Instead of a question you can do something for me. How that sounds? And before you say anything, I know you won’t come out of here so soon.”

“Fine... what do you want?” you could tell he was already feeling much better then when he first saw you, so a smile made way to your lips.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes out of your lips, because he always loved your smile the most. And of course he hadn’t forgoten your little confession. He was just waiting for the right moment to bring it up again.

Since you had already told Bucky about your feelings for him you had nothing to lose anymore, so before you could change your mind you spoke really fast in a burst of confidence that lasted just until the last word left your mouth.

“You can take me somewhere. Like a date or something.”

“Or something?” he repeated.

“Y-Yeah... well...” your face started to heat up under his gaze and your burst of courage ran away somewhere with you ability to create proper speach “I-I mean... if you... uh... d-d-don’t want to...”

He cut you by pressing his lips against yours softly, humming in contentment when your arms circled his neck and brushed the hair of his nape lightly. You could feel he was still uncertain of how to touch you, being really careful not to hug to tight, and also making sure he was bending so you didn’t have to strach much to reach him.

You smiled against his lips, feeling how the pace of your heart raced when meting with his beautiful blue eyes.

“Is that really all I have to do to earn your forgiveness?”

Slowly a smirk started playing on his mouth and you could not help but to mirror it when you answered, your lips inches apart of his.

“Maybe you could give me a few more kisses and then I can think about it...”

[the--sad--hatter]

Frozen Heart (2)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  

When Nick Fury finally catches the Ex-Shield Agent knowns Black Ice, The Thief with a Frozen Heart he puts her where she belongs. With The Avengers.

You’re not happy about that decision but you’re the only one who’s kicking up a fuss.

Natasha and Clint are happy to have you back in their lives, Sam Wilson is a big fan, Tony Stark just wants you to keep your hands off his stuff and Steve finds out that not only do you have a connection but you were there for him when nobody else was.

Bucky Barnes is one of the few people who doesn’t have a connection with you but he’d really really like one.

** Everything in Italics is being signed, not said out loud.**

Chapter Two - Batman and Supergirl

You couldn’t move, your arms were packed close to your sides and there was no room. Your heart beat erratically in your chest as you swallowed your whimpers, trying desperately not to make a noise. Something dripped onto your face and ran down it, something warm and thick and metallic smelling. Another drop splashed down on you and you realised it was blood.

You were trapped and scared and nobody was coming to help you. You tried to scream but no noise came out, you couldn’t get the noise out. You heard someone yelling your name and tried to call for help but you couldn’t. The person calling you got louder and you were shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes snapped open and you gasped. You weren’t shaking, someone was shaking you.

As soon as you realised that, you realised you weren’t trapped it was just a dream. You sprang to your feet, pushing whoever woke you away. Your bare feet slapped across the wooden floor as you rushed to the window, pushing it open and letting the cool air wash over you as you tried to control your breathing.

You leant your forehead against the cold window pane and looked out at the view, drinking it in, letting it pull you out of the nightmare and back into reality.

“You good?” Clint’s gruff voice asked you.

You turned your head to look at him and your eyes answered for you. Clint felt like he’d been punched in the chest when he saw that haunted look in your eyes.

“You having that nightmare again? I thought it stopped?” He asked.

You shook your head and pushed your palms into your eyes, trying to push the tears back in.

“Ice, how long has this been going on?”

You shrugged and sluggishly dragged yourself across the room to sit on the bed.

“Since you left?” He pushed.

You looked up at him he tugged the his ear to make sure you understood.

“It doesn’t happen every night.” You told him.

“But it happens a lot? What about the rest of it?” He pressed.

“Yeah, a lot. Most days I’m ok but some days I can’t go use an elevator.”

Clint sighed heavily and rubbed his head as he thought it over. He had thought you were past this.

“He tied me to the chair and I couldn’t move. I just lost it.”

The Scorpion had tied you up and it was triggering old memories, making old phobias resurface. Clint groaned and threw himself backwards onto you bed, making you bounce.

“I’ll stay. Come on, get some sleep. Don’t argue. Tired. Sleep.”

He hadn’t had to do this since you were a teenager but if it meant you felt safe there honestly wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do and this was easy.. You curled into a ball at the end of the bed and drifted back to sleep. It never occurred to you to wonder how he had known you were having a nightmare if he didn’t have his hearing aids in.

You woke up ever so slightly a few minutes later as Natasha crept into the room and climbed onto the bed as well, kicking Clint out of the way so she could lie with her head next to yours. Her hair tickled your face but you didn’t brush it away, it was a happy reminder that you weren’t alone.

You slept deep and dreamless and when you woke up in the morning it was to be reminded of something.

Clint Barton was a fucking octopus. It was ridiculously adorable but not what you needed right now, what with the claustrophobia being a bit of a dick. You prised his arms off of your calf with some difficulty.

“I know you’re awake.” You hissed at Natasha.

Other than a minute upturn at the corner of her mouth she didn’t respond. You got Clint off of you and he rolled over in his sleep and quickly attached himself to Tasha instead. You snorted at the unintentional vengeance.

“Bring back coffee.” She ordered as you left the room.

You would, but you had another stop to make first.

Ten minutes later you gave the butterflies in your stomach a stern talking to as you knocked on Bucky’s door. There was some shuffling for a moment before he answered.

“I was unconscious for nine days and when I woke up I was made an Avenger against my will and then Natasha kicked me in the face really hard and I just kept meeting new people and I think my brain short circuited and that’s why I was so rude but I’m very sorry and I brought you coffee please don’t hate me.” You blurted out, only realising your lack of punctuation too late as you practically thrust the coffee cup towards Bucky.

Bucky had only just managed to convince himself that he wasn’t even that attracted to you anyway and now here you were, standing at his door with big pleading eyes and rumpled bed hair while you bit your bottom lip nervously.

He tried really hard to think of something to say. Anything. Just words in general.

“Thanks for defrosting Steve, he came in quite handy.” He finally said.

He wondered if he could program his arm to repeatedly punch him in the face but you laughed and he suddenly didn’t regret saying it any more.

He reached out and took the coffee cup from you and definitely didn’t sigh in disappointment when your fingers didn’t brush against his.

“Thank you.” He said, so softly you probably didn’t hear it as you smiled and waved goodbye as you walked backwards away from his door.

When Bucky shut his door you breathed a sigh of relied and did a fist pump in mid air before you remembered Stark had his AI watching you.

Straightening up you clasped your hands behind your back and casually walked back to your room.

“Where’s the coffee?” Natasha asked you with a death glare.

“Uhhh, I thought I would come and ask what you would like for breakfast.” You said, covering up the fact you had forgotten her coffee.

She narrowed her eyes at you and you knew she wasn’t buying it but you also knew she would pretend she was if it meant you made her breakfast.

“French Toast, the cinnamon one you make with the chocolate and berries.” She decided.

Something told you she had missed your cooking.

Halfway through making the breakfast you started to get irritated. This was the sixth time Tony Stark had casually walked past the kitchen door. You put the mixing bowl down ans tiptoed to the door.

Right on schedule he walked past and you made him jump.

“Morning.” You said cheerfully.

“Ice Queen.” He said, eyes narrowing at you.

“I’m making breakfast, if you’re hungry?” You asked him nicely.

“What’s your game? Why are you here?” He asked, crossing his arms and trying to intimidate you.

You sighed heavily and rolled your neck to loosen it up. You had tried to be nice, as far as you were concerned whatever happened next was on his head.

“Listen to me you over-hyped, flying Coca-Cola can. If I were here for nefarious purposes you’d never have seen me coming. I’m here because I woke up here and was told I had to join the Power Rangers.”

Stark didn’t look convinced at all.

“How come nobody knew about you then? Out of the blue Clint announces he has a sister, an adopted one but he won’t tell anyone where you came from. The only people who know you are the two spy’s and the person who dumped you on my doorstep was Fury. Who are you really?” He demanded.  

“Fine. You want to know who I am?”

“Kinda why I asked.”

You dropped to bowl of egg batter on the counter with a clatter and took a deep breath. Stark perked up as you steeled yourself to tell him.”

“When I was a child, my planet, Krypton, was dying. I was sent to Earth to protect my cousin. But my pod got knocked off-course, and by the time I got here, my cousin had already grown up and become... Superman. And so, I hid my powers, until recently when an accident forced me to reveal myself to the world.” You told him seriously.  

He went from intrigued to annoyed and scoffed as he glared at you, walking away.

“To most people, I am an assistant at CatCo Worldwide Media. But in secret, I work with my adoptive sister for the D.E.O. to protect my city from alien life and anyone else that means to cause it harm. I AM SUPERGIRL!” You yelled after his retreating figure.

“Morning Supergirl.”

You jumped at the voice and turned round to see Steve Rogers casually leaning against the fridge with a semi-amused semi-guilty expression.

“Jesus Cap, how did you even get in here without me noticing you?” You asked him, hand on your chest as you tried to stop you heart exploding out of it.

“I’m Batman.” He said simply and you snorted a laugh at his clever response.

“Well played.” You told him, going to retrieve your eggs and whisking them.

“Can I help?” He asked, looking around at all your ingredients with an air of curiosity.  

“You can put those biceps to work and whisk this because I can’t feel my arm anymore.” You told him sheepishly.

Steve laughed and prised the bowl away from you.

“I was hoping to catch you this morning actually, I want to talk to you.” He said as he effortlessly whisked.

You almost didn’t hear him, you were mesmerized by his arms.

“I brought him coffee and apologised!” You quickly blurted out.

“What?”He asked, perplexed.

“What?”You were now also perplexed.

“You brought who coffee and apologised for what?”He followed up.

So presumably he didn’t want to talk about Barnes then.

“Nobody. What did you want to talk about?” You weren’t sure why you lied.

Alright it was because you were embarrassed. Apparently so was he as his cheeks went a little pink.

“I wanted to thank you. For being there for me when they pulled my from the Ice. If I had known I would have never left it this long before thanking you. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.” He said, passing the bowl back to you.

“It was an honour, no really it was. I practically grew up on stories of you, especially whenever Coulson was babysitting. When Shield found you they didn’t even have to ask. Even if you weren’t a hero though, I wouldn’t have left you like that.” You informed him.

You were telling the truth. You knew who Steve Rogers was but when you saw him frozen he wasn’t Captain America to you anymore, he was just somebody you needed to help. Knowing he was alive in that Ice had broken your heart and you spent days without sleep to make sure he was alright as you melted the Ice around him.

“I still owe you a thank you.” He said seriously.

“Consider me thoroughly thanked.”You told him with a grin.

You noticed that wherever you moved around the kitchen as you cooked up a storm, he moved with you. He was making sure he was in your eyeline. It was kind of the same way you moved around Clint and your heart melted as you realised that the Captain was trying to make sure you could read his lips. It must be left over behaviour from when he was around Clint.

You passed the first plate of toast to him with a warm smile.

“Here, hope you enjoy it.” You told him.

He looked mildly surprised at how edible the Cinnamon French Toast with Strawberries, Raspberries and Warm Chocolate Sauce looked.

“So you can cook?” He said, sitting down with the plate and tucking in.

You didn't answer, you’d let his taste buds do that for him. As soon as he put the fork in his mouth he let a very sinful moan and you stifled a laugh. You may have also blushed because well... Steve Rogers, pornographic moans... Who wouldn’t blush at that?

“It’s good, really really good.” He praised you as he dove straight in for another bite.

“Between Clint and Tasha I had to learn how to cook or I’d have grown up on cereal and Pizza.” You told him as you pottered about, making Natasha’s breakfast.

“About that..” He started and you smirked.

“You want to know why you’ve never heard of me?”

“If you want to tell me?” He offered.

“Clint, Natasha and Fury faked my death. Clint never told you because what would be the point? As far as the world knew, Black Ice was dead. Plus they are spies. Keeping secrets is kind of their thing.” You scoffed.

“Why did they fake your death, why did you?”

“I wanted out. Out of Shield. I just couldn’t take it any more. I... lost someone.” You told him.

He put down his cutlery and gave you his full attention.

“I’m sorry.” He told you softly.

When people for apologised for your loss it never meant much. They weren’t sorry, they felt sorry for you. Steve was sincere though and you weren’t feeling the usual irritation you felt at those words.

“It was a long time ago. I guess I’m back in the game now, whether I want to be or not.” You said, covering the pain with a smile.

“Who did you lose?”

You weren’t going to tell him, you didn't like to talk about it at all but memories of stories about Peggy Carter flashed in your mind. Steve would understand.

“My fiancée. He was a Shield agent, like me. He died during a mission gone wrong.”

A love story that was ended before it had a chance to really begin. Steve knew how that felt. He knew that there wasn’t anything he could say that you would want to hear.

“I’m going to take Natasha’s her breakfast before she comes looking for me, probably with knives in hand.” You told him.

“Good idea. Hey, thanks for this. It’s delicious.” He said, shovelling more toast into his mouth.

“Anytime Captain.”

An hour later you’d finally managed to chase a well fed Tasha and Clint from your room so you could shower and get dressed. Clint had told you he wanted you to meet someone you’d missed meeting at diner last night after you fled so as soon as you were ready you went searching for him.

He was in the common room, talking to a young woman. You recognised her straight away from the News. Wanda Maximoff, The Scarlet Witch.

“Hello.” You greeted, poking your head into the room and waving.

“Ice, come here. I want you to meet Wanda.” Clint said, standing up and pulling you into the room.

He seemed flustered and nervous as he hovered beside the two of you. He must really want you to get along.

“So you’re the one who can read minds huh? Can you read mine?” You asked her, arching your brow.

She looked taken aback for a second before a smirk graced her features.

“It’s not difficult to do, especially with smaller less developed minds. Yours is very easy to see into.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“Are you calling me stupid? Did she just call me stupid?” You demanded, hands flying about angrily.

“Not stupid, just less developed.” She clarified.

“I’ll develop you into a damn ice statue in a second witch.” You hissed.

Clint looked stricken at the turn of events.

“What? No! Ice calm down. Wanda this is my sister, she’s very nice. Please be nice to her.” He pleaded quickly.

You couldn’t keep up the charade and neither could Wanda and you both dissolved into fits of giggles at the terrified and worried look on his face.

“Pleasure to meet you Wanda. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” You sniggered.

“I think so too.” She said with a pleased grin.

“What just happened?” Clint demanded, confused and a little worried still.

“Ice hinted I should try to read her mind and when I did she told me to help her play a little trick on you.” Wanda told him with a laugh.

“Oh no.” Clint groaned.

“Oh yes.” You rebutted.

“No, the two of you combined are going to be the death of me.” He groaned.

“Care to join me outside? I’d love to see your powers in action.” You told Wanda, ignoring Clint’s semi breakdown and offering her your arm.

She linked her arm through your with an adorable giggle as she shot Clint an apologetic look and left the room with you.

“Yes, I’ll help you.” She told you before you even asked.

You had been about to tell her you were out of practice with your own abilities and ask her if she would mind helping you get them back under control but apparently there was no need.

“I will not peek on purpose, it happens from time to time. Especially when you are so nervous. I will not share anything I hear, I swear. I can’t help it.” She informed you.

You didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she was nervous herself. She was worried she’d scare you off.

“Read my mind whenever you want. Really. Just know I don’t like to talk about most of what's up there and for the love of all that’s holy don’t tell Clint.” You sniggered.

Her face lit up at your easy acceptance and invitation and she squeezed your arm affectionately. You preened at having put that look on her face.

Your new friendship with Wanda quickly turned out to be a life saver as her quick thinking and red misty shield was the only reason you hadn’t accidentally blasted a hole in the side of the compound with an ice rock. You’d only been trying to make a snowflake.

“You are out of practice.” She frowned as she trudged over the shattered shards of ice.

“At least the grass will get watered?” You offered.

“My powers are tied into my emotions. Maybe yours are as well? I think until you find a way to deal with your emotions, trying to control your abilities may be futile.” You told you sadly.

“Yeah. Yeah, you might be right.” You begrudgingly admitted.

Anyone else and you’ve have told them to fuck off but she was literally in your head. It was actually kind of a relief to have someone in your brain like this, you didn’t have to hide anything or have to talk about it either.

“You have already started to open up to The Captain, perhaps you can speak to him. Or Sam, Sam is kind and he’s a therapist.”

“I’ll think about it.” You told her.

She raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, I won’t. But I’ll try to consider opening up.” You offered.

“It’s a start.”

Despite the Icy mishap you were in a great mood. Initially you’d been pissed about having to join the team but you’d already made friends, Natasha was talking to you again and you had really really missed your brother. Spending time with Clint was already making you feel better. So you practically skipped to the lab to see Dr Banner, excited to have a Science buddy.

It went horribly wrong almost straight away.

Stark was there, glaring at you as Banner tried to show you something under a microscope and explain it and as he stormed over to kick you out of his lab and as you turned round to get into an argument with him you knocked something over.

You didn’t know what it was but as you watched it sail across the room in slow motion you had the sinking feeling it wasn’t going to be good, because it was headed straight for Stark.

The glass beaker smashed across Stark’s arm and straight away he was hissing and swearing in pain. An alarm started blaring and you panicked.

“Don’t hulk out!” You yelled at Banner as you tried to pull Tony’s shirt off.

Sam could hear the alarm and yelling from the lab as he approached it and hurried his pace, rushing into the room ready to spring into action but the sight that met him was so perplexing he wasn’t sure what to do.

Banner was stood in the corner reciting the periodic table at the top of his voice, Stark was rolling on the floor and you were stood in the middle of the chaos with a fire extinguisher as you sprayed Tony.

“Louder Dr Banner!” You instructed as you gently kicked Stark to see if he was still conscious.

Sam backed out of the room slowly as you started spraying Tony with the extinguisher again. No way he was getting involved in that.  

“It was an accident!”

“You threatened to knock Bruce out if he didn't recite the periodic table! Why?” Clint demanded, trying to look stern and not laugh.

“I didn’t want him to Hulk out! I was trying to help!”

“Accidents happen in the lab all the time, he wasn’t going to Hulk out.”

“I didn't know that!”

“Why’d you spray Tony with a fire extinguisher?”

“He said it was burning! I thought I was helping!” You insisted.

“You’re a walking disaster.”

“You’re a hypocrite, Remember Birmingham?”You said with a smug look.

“We agreed never to speak of that again.”

“Well I think we should add today to the list of taboo subjects.”

“What the hell are they doing?” Tony asked Natasha as he watched you and Clint wave your hands at each other through the glass.

She glanced over and smirked.

“Arguing about who’s the bigger dumbass between the two of them.”

“Why aren’t they talking? Why are they doing it in secret?”

“They’re just used to using ASL to talk. It’s habit.”

“Why? Some sort of spy thing?” Tony snapped.

“Stark, you do know that Clint is deaf don’t you?”

“What? No he’s not. I speak to him all the time.” Tony said.

“He has hearing aids in.” Banner supplied, like it was obvious.

Which it was. To everyone except Tony apparently.

“Why did you think I was signing to Clint whenever I speak to him?” Natasha asked.

“I didn’t know you were, I thought you were just really animated when you talked. Like angry Italians.” He insisted.

Natasha smacked him across the back of the head.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“For being an idiot.” She told him and stormed off.

“Everyone else knew Tony.” Bruce sighed.

Tony sulked.

“Friday?”

“Yes Boss, I knew.” Friday told him.

“That’s not what I was going to say. You know what forget it. Change the alarm protocols, make sure there are visual cues. Flashing lights, maybe some sort of vibrations?”

He didn't notice you and Clint had stopped arguing to watch him through the glass with twin looks of amusement.

“Well that settles it. Stark is the biggest idiot.”

“Agreed.”

“Are you alright?” Bucky demanded as he burst into the room.

He rushed over to you and started looking you over frantically.

“Uh, I’m fine.” You stammered.

“I heard there was an accident in the lab you were involved in.” He said.

“Oh for fuck sake. Perfect.” You snapped, storming away.

Everybody knew, brilliant. Second day here and you were already getting a reputation. You were so annoyed you didn’t see the hurt look on Bucky’s face as you stormed off.

He sighed as he realised he’d messed up again. He was just worried you might have been hurt, he didn’t mean to offend you somehow. Would he ever get this right?

“Wait!” He shouted at you, running after you.

Clint stifled a laugh as the super soldier rushed away.

“What?” You whined, turning to look at him with a pout.

You bottom lip was protruding and it was so distracting that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Stumbling to a stop in front of you he realised he didn’t actually have anything to say, he just hadn't wanted you to leave.

“Don’t do it again. Be so stupid I mean. Just... be careful.” He instructed you.

“Got it, I’m an idiot. Everyone knows it and they would like me to stop. Message received.” You snapped at him and walked off again.

He was going to throw himself off the roof, he really was.

“It’s just dangerous around here, you could get hurt if you aren’t careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You looked back at him and saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You wrapped your arms around yourself nervously and nodded to show you’d understood before picking up your pace and quite literally running away from him.

Bucky threw his head back and groaned. Great, you weren’t offended now, you were just sad. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, berating himself with every step.

“Hey Buck, where are you headed?” Steve asked as he passed him in the corridor.

“The roof probably.” Bucky grunted.

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

Again, thank you to my Beansy for helping me out with how to handle writing a deaf character.

I'm floored by the response to this so far. Writing my second fic is actually more nerve-wracking than writing my first.

I'm trying to make these chapters longer and smoother. I'm editing like a bitch and just really trying to improve the quality and I really really hope it shows!

I'd love to know what you think of Ice so far and the relationship and personalities of the other characters.

  @shirukitsune @thelostallycat @jsmith509 @buckitybarnes @aw-shit-nuggets @pleasefollowmeuwu @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @boxofteenageideas @jaynnanadrews @psychoredpanda @marbleowl @l0kisbitch @brownlee-22 @fluffeh-kitty @mywinterwolf @poppunkassbitch @angieptt 

[worthsomethingtoday]

Our interview with Save The Broken about mental health and some other questions

1. What is your names & what do you play in the band?

Steve Walters - Vocals

Tyler Semolik - Drums <Participants of interview

Frank Cortalano - Guitar

Frank Mazzei - Guitar

Mike Hooper - Bass

2. • How did the band get started?

Rob, a founding member and I used to always go to karaoke together and sing songs with screaming in them. The look on people’s faces was priceless when they heard that first scream unexpectedly. One day we got tired of people coming up to us asking if we were in a band to which we always replied no. So we told each other “let’s just do it, it’s our dream. What are we waiting for?”

-Steve

I joined the band when the old guitarist left the band. Members of Save The Broken including Steve and Tyler had come to see my other band at a show back in February of 2019 to introduce themselves to us. After that, my other band had played a few shows with Save The Broken. Later that year the band had announced that their guitarist was leaving and that they we’re looking for a new one. At the time I was not looking to join another band because I have a million other things going on, but I reached out to Steve and told him that I was willing to help fill in until they found someone permanent. After weeks of practicing, we had our first show at Lucy’s Lounge in Pleasantville for This Is Sirus Fest. The energy on stage was amazing and I knew that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be a part of something this fun so I decided to become a permanent guitarist.

-Frank C.

3. •What was the funniest thing that has ever happened to you on stage?

Last year on Halloween my mic got yanked into the pit and I tried pulling it back but it wasn’t budging. I threw my arms in the air and sang along with the crowd for the rest of the song. There’s a clip of it in the highlights on our instagram.

-Steve

My equipment breaks on me almost every show lol!

-Tyler

The funniest thing that happened on stage was a drunk guy at one of our shows was so into our set that he came up to sing our songs along with us, even though he didn’t really know the words lol.

-Frank C.

4. •If you had 1 million dollars in the music industry what would you use it for?

Besides investing in equipment, I would love to donate to charities that are meaningful to me and to the band as a whole and put together shows that would help raise money for causes that we care about. I want people to realize how important music is and how it can help the community and the world.

-Frank C

This has never been about money for me. If I can help people heal and just make enough to get by, I’ll be very happy. If we do end up getting to that level one day I’d want to give back to all of the people that got us there. -Steve

Currently, a venue for sessions where bands can do their thing and be live streamed so everyone can see them considering the situation.

-Tyler

5. • If you could tour with any band or musician dead or alive who would it be with & why?

Easy, August Burns Red or Dance Gavin Dance. They’ve always been my inspiration to be a musician and be in a touring band.

-Tyler

My Chemical Romance. Yeah, the guy that screams was an emo kid. I don’t think I’d be here without them and they’re my inspiration for wanting to help people just like they’ve helped me. Band name inspiration confirmed. -Steve

Definitely Bayside and Coheed and Cambria. These are two bands that have gotten me through some tough times and have been a huge inspiration for me as a musician across all instruments I play. One of Save The Broken’s main messages is to help and inspire others so bands like these two that have done the same for me are near and dear to my heart.

-Frank C.

6.• What do you think of the media frenzy over mental illness meaning should we talk about it more in the world?

I believe that it is very important to talk about mental illness. We all need to do what we can to be healthy in all aspects of life and our mental health is arguably the most important part because it coincides with everything else. I feel like the media doesn’t focus as much on mental health as it should and unfortunately does not do more to encourage people to seek the proper help that they need.

-Frank C.

We should always talk about it. I think the media and certain businesses are just cashing in on the hype, but there has never been a better and more acceptable time to talk about your mental illness, and that’s a great thing. -Steve

7.• Have you ever dealt with depression or any other mental illness & if so how did you handle it?

I’ve been dealing with depression for years. I find solace in my friends, family, music, writing, and my bandmates. I’m very lucky to have strong people around me and to be a part of this band. Helping others is a great way to deal with your own depression sometimes. We’re here to help heal the world, but we’re definitely healing ourselves along the way.

-Steve

Depression has definitely been kicking me in the butt for a while. I try to put myself out of my own element and to be more openminded about trying new things I may like to take my mind off of the old things dragging me down. -Tyler

I have been dealing with both depression and anxiety nearly my entire life. I’ve been trying my hardest to follow a lesson that I learned from reading the book The Alchemist which is to live in the moment. This lesson has really helped me become more present in all aspects of my life rather than be stuck inside my own head. I am very lucky to have things in my life that bring me joy such as music, dungeons and dragons, video games, and hanging with my friends and loved ones who are an important support system to have. There are a ton of bad things that I can focus on or worry about but when I can do the things that bring me joy, be present in every moment and remind myself that the pain and sadness are temporary it allows me to be positive and enjoy the good things in life.

-Frank C.

8.• What would you say has been the most difficult or hardest part of your life so far?

The hardest part of my life so far has been finding a comfortable environment where I feel free to find myself and to properly sit with my emotions. This has negatively affected me because I haven’t felt like I had a place to think and to properly heal mentally which has taken toll on my writing which is one of the most important things in my life.

-Frank C.

Losing my dad suddenly at 15 still hurts me to this day. We were very close. I’ve lost many loved ones, but that cut is the deepest. I’ve worked in the funeral business for a long time and being around death is always a constant reminder of what I’ve been through, but being around others who have lost someone and helping them means a lot to me.

-Steve

Now, 2020, corona virus, I love being around people, being out and enjoying myself. So not being able to do so drives me insane.

-Tyler

9.• What would you tell a fan that is struggling with self harm?

I try my hardest to let the people in my life know that they are important and that their life is worth living. I would encourage a fan, or anyone struggling with self-harm, to seek out professional help or at the very least reach out to someone who can help them get to that point. I know it can sometimes be scary, but therapy is an option that they should consider and can benefit from. It’s also important to be honest and patient with themself and to realize that healing takes time. We all have the strength to get passed whatever we are dealing with.

-Frank C.

Do whatever you can to find a different outlet for your pain. Reach out to anyone you can, and even if you think that person doesn’t exist there is always someone out there going through the same thing or maybe even worse. Luckily there are many ways to reach out these days even if there’s no one present in your life to help you. You shouldn’t be ashamed to talk to someone, and if that’s what’s stopping you, luckily there are plenty of ways now to do that privately and virtually. I also want people to know that they have the strength within to heal, but sometimes in your darkest of places, someone needs to drag it out of you, and that’s ok.

-Steve

If a fan is hurting, you be there for them, LISTEN to them. A fan is a friend you hold highly. Try to help them find other coping mechanisms to help when they are in their time of need.

-Tyler

10.• What is like when a fan comes up too you & tells you your music saved their life or get them though hard times in life?

That’s what this is all about. There was a guy who came up to me in Brooklyn after a set who had never heard of us before. He connected with what I said between songs about losing someone and not being alone. He thanked me for reminding him of that and gave me a hug. I cried and thanked him also, because he reminded me of how true that was too. If he’s reading this I hope he never forgets that statement, and for anyone else reading this you shouldn’t forget it either.

-Steve

It’s one of the best feelings in the world. As performers and artists, it is important to remember that what we do goes beyond ourselves. When we get up on that stage or release music out into the world we are connecting with people. I don’t do this for money or fame. I do this to inspire others and impact their life through music. If I can relate to one person and give them a sense of hope by letting them know they aren’t alone in this world then I have done my job as a musician.

-Frank C.

It’s a great feeling. I love that people can connect through music and being someone who helps with that means the world to me!

-Tyler

11.• Do any of your songs talk about anything dealing with depression or self harm or anything along those lines?

Not every song of ours speaks about those subjects specifically, but every song is based off of emotions, good or bad, that come from dealing with hard times, and the journey to overcome them.

-Steve

12.• What would you tell someone that is scared to ask for help because they don't want to be looked at differently?

I’d tell them that it is okay to feel scared, but don’t let anyone stop them from getting the help they need. The fear of being judged should never hold them back from doing what is right for them. It is their right to keep their personal life private, but they should reach out to people they trust if they are in need of help.

-Frank C.

I would tell them don’t feel scared. Speak to someone who they feel comfortable talking to and explain the problem, then look for help.

-Tyler

Reach out privately. Research different organizations designed to fit your specific needs.

-Steve

13.• Do you think we as society should be able to have a conversation about mental health without being judge or looked at differently & do you think we should be able to talk about it in our school systems?

Anyone who would ever put you down for what you’re going through has no place in your life. Cut toxicity out of your circle. As someone who was bullied all throughout his life in school I think that is the toughest hurdle. We as a society have to make it so mental health is not something to be looked down upon and I think that will trickle down to everything else including the school systems. I think we’re on our way to that.

-Steve

As a teacher, I can tell you just how influential the things kids learn in school are. Speaking about mental health in schools will help children understand how important it is and may help decrease the stigma that surrounds mental health. If our children are properly informed on the subject, it will help us as a society to normalize the conversation and can lead to less judgment and better understanding of it.

-Frank C.

14.• Do you think the media should look at mental health in a positive light, more then just jumping to conclusions on the news?

Unfortunately, media and the news have a big role to play in our society. If mental health was discussed in a positive light and helped people have a better understanding of it by providing the information in a more accessible way, then it may help open the discussion rather than stigmatize mental health.

-Frank C.

Don’t watch the news lol...

-Steve

[lemonsandstrawberries]

The Pitted Olive, part 7

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Drag Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: Tony hosts a meeting for his drag queen friends and Steve hangs out with his mom, deciding to share some big news with her.

length: 4 850 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: LONG TIME NO SEE, RIGHT? I admit, I got a bit lost with this series... also I wasn’t so sure if I liked the direction this story was heading, buuut then decided that this topic can’t be avoided and is a big part of every lgbt+ person’s life. also, I do enjoy a bit of drama. and there is no better month to be back with this series than pride month! hope you will enjoy this update!

——————–

The Pitted Olive, part 7

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

Steve usually didn't need a lot of sleep. Five, six hours of rest were pretty standard for him and plenty to let him function through the whole day. Maybe it was that yesterday, he and Tony had decided to stay late at the Pitted Olive, prolonging their stay to see Tootsie's rock performance and Arrow's new juggling routine and he indulged more in the Long Island Ice tea than his body was used to, that the next morning it was exceptionally hard to get up from bed. He just wished to stay in, wrapped in warm covers and softness, and let his body decide when it wanted to wake up, instead of his always disciplined mind telling him that it was way past his usual sleep hours. He heard Tony woke up some time ago, but his boyfriend remained tactful and quiet and didn't want to disturb the blond, and moved swiftly and unnoticeable. Steve had moments of wakening up and nodding off, always feeling Tony's presence somewhere close, without being able to pinpoint exactly where he was, but it was enough to keep him calm and deep in sleep.

Until this one moment.

Steve was still wrapped in blissful sleep when he felt it. The dip of the bed, the thigh pressing against his leg, radiating characteristic heat. Someone looking at his face and leaning in, soft breathing hearable in the quiet surroundings. Steve thought that wakening up by a kiss was a quite good scenario, a scenario he would happily follow. It just wasn't this scenario.

One sharp tug and pinch at his eyebrow and Steve's eyes sprung open, his hands moving to cover his face and press to the hurt skin.

"Ow!"

"Got you, you little bastard."

"What the-" Steve focused his eyes and saw Tony looming over him, a satisfied smile spread over his boyfriend's lips. Steve continued to massage his brow, not understanding what just happened and why he was insulted as the first thing after wakening up. "Tony, what the fuck-"

"Show me," Tony demanded instead, pushing Steve's hands away and cupping his chin, eyes sharp and analyzing while he was looking at his face. "Oh, yeah, much better. That hair was driving me crazy. Although, you could use a little more plucking on the left side."

And then Steve saw it. In his free hand, Tony was holding tweezers, the torture device getting too close for Steve to feel comfortable.

"No!" Steve yelled out, grabbing at Tony's wrists and trying to pull his boyfriend to himself and trap under and Tony was successfully not letting him.

"But your eyebrows are uneven!"

"And?! Do you think I care?"

"I care! Just let me- just a bit- hold still!"

"No, it hurts!"

"Oh, don't be a baby!"

Steve opened his mouth to say something back when while during wrestling with Tony something caught his attention. He looked at his own hands and let go of Tony for closer inspection, brunet immediately taking the opportunity to launch another attack of the tweezers and Steve temporarily knocked him to the side, hearing a yelp of protest. He rolled on his stomach for further protection and examined his hands closer. The nails, usually clipped pretty short for comfort, were filed into a perfect oval shape, cuticles were pushed back and there was a light coat of sheen nail polish on each nail. His hands also felt a lot smoother, with no rough edges, just as if someone massaged a heck lot of hand cream into the skin.

"Did you give me a manicure while I was sleeping?" Steve asked, eyes glued to hands that didn't look anymore like the ones he remembered having.

"Uh, yeah. Hope you don't mind, I was bored," Tony said, flopping on his side and coming closer to look at his work. "Turned out great, right?" he asked, some proud note making its way into his voice.

It was a change for sure. Steve turned his hands and looked at the fronts and bottoms, quite liking what he was seeing. Who would have thought that hands could look so nice?

"Um, yeah."

"Glad you like it," Tony smiled, "I tried to give you a pedicure too, but you kept kicking me away whenever I touched your feet. As for someone who is such a heavy sleeper, you can get very squeamish when it comes to your feet."

Steve just laughed in an embarrassed way. Somethings were better left without an explanation.

"Hey, baby, hold still," Tony whispered, placing a hand under Steve's chin and turning his face to his. Steve saw tweezers getting closer and his skin immediately started to crawl.

"No!"

"I said hold still!"

"You hold still!"

Some kicking, some wrestling, and some mutual screaming later, Steve managed to press Tony down into the covers and trap him in, taking the torture tool out of his hands.

"AHA!" Steve called in triumph, holding the tweezers. "Let's see how you like it!" he said with an evil grin, leaning in and planning to make Tony taste his own medicine.

"Go ahead," Tony invited, smiling back. Steve intended to, but… The evil grin disappeared and was replaced by a more and more confused look as he was examining Tony's face. Eyebrows in a neat shape, no strand hairs. Smooth cheeks, the goatee trimmed to a perfect length. In a desperate, completely dirty move, Steve even looked for nose hair, but those were also properly taken care of.

"See?" Tony smiled wider, pointing at his face, and spreading his fingers. "Flawless," he said, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

Flawless indeed. Even Tony's skin looked smooth and plump, and maybe Steve should reconsider his statement on not letting Tony massage tsubaki oil into his face every evening, unlike Tony did.

Still...

"AH!" Tony yelled out when two hands shot under his arms and wriggled fingers into the, of course, smooth armpits, tickling viciously. "Stoop!" he managed to choke out before frantic laughter started to spill out. "You whihihiiill give mehehehee wrinklehehehes!"

Steve only smiled again, thinking that Tony's laugh lines were so fetching and that there was nothing wrong in making them a bit deeper.

***

"I need you out of the house."

"Huh?" Steve looked up from his bowl of sugar frosted cereal. They had such a lazy, long morning changing into afternoon, that none of them felt like preparing a proper breakfast, settling on Tony's secret stash and choosing something to go with the already lazy day. They even stayed in bed, getting crumbs all over the bedding. "You are kicking me out?"

Tony giggled, holding a cup with coffee in one hand, and blueberry pop tart in the other leisurely leaned against the bed frame. "Just temporarily. My girls are coming over and I think you will get bored."

"Girls?" Steve asked, spooning the soggy cereal into his mouth.

"Other drag queens. We have those meetups to discuss makeup, dress designs…" Tony's voice faltered as almost ending the sentence before he continued. "Current love affairs…"

Steve didn't answer at first, the edge of the bowl pressed to his lips as he slurped out the sweetened milk. When he looked at Tony, he had milk mustache on his upper lip and smiled teasingly. "Oh? So you will talk about me behind my back?"

"Only if you leave," Tony said, sounding humored by his young lover's playful behavior. "It is not fun to gossip about you while you are here."

"So, who is coming?" Steve asked, trying to keep his curiosity at minimum, and not be too noisy what exactly Tony would say about him.

"Girls from the Olive, so, Tootsie and Arrow, my friend from a different drag queen bar, Lady Mint -"

"Bucky is coming over?" Steve asked, putting the bowl aside. Somehow he couldn't picture his friend discussing material for dresses and lipstick colors.

"He is," Tony confirmed, finishing the pop tart and putting his empty mug aside, "but not for your lame bro time, but for my fabulous girls time."

Steve laughed at the word choice. "If it is that fabulous, maybe I will stay?"

"You are welcomed to, if you want to," Tony shrugged, "just a fair warning, we will probably put you into a dress and makeup-"

"I am out," Steve said without any hesitation, wriggling out of the covers and standing up.

"Ah, Steve, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"Uhhmm, before you go, could you help me with something?" Tony asked in a sultry voice, sitting up and smoothening hands over the covers in a slow, long move, until he was laying flat on his belly, legs crossed delicately in the ankles. Eyes having that helpless, pleading look that made Steve feel weak in the knees immediately. It was almost hypnotizing.

"Yeah, sure," Steve assured breathlessly, focusing back on his gorgeous boyfriend. Whatever it was, he would be happy to assist.

Tony smiled, slow and beautiful before he rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled out a shoe box from underneath. He took the lid off and Steve saw a pair of black pumps, made from shiny faux leather, on an extremely high and slim heel, in Tony's size. Steve's breath immediately quickened. He and Red Velvet made out a couple of times, but fooling around with Tony while he was wearing only parts of his female side's wardrobe, was a new level of excitement.

Tony took out one pump and ran his fingers over the shiny surface, and Steve saw the red sole of the boot. Then he took out the other one and held both of them in one hand.

"Can you break those in for me?" Tony asked sweetly, reaching the pumps in Steve's direction.

Steve froze, his brain registering the words, breaking them apart and putting together again. Break in. Black pumps. Him.

"What?!" Steve asked, and it came out harsher than he wished it did.

"Pleaaase?" Tony whined, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, the pumps bumping into each other with a soft sound. "I need them for my nearest show and it will take ages before I break them in, with your shoe size it will just take a day-"

"Nu-uh. Your shoes, your problem," Steve said firmly, more than sure that he would break a leg minutes after putting the shoes one.

"Oh, come on! Please? Pleease? I promise to leave your eyebrows alone!"

"I said no, Tony!"

And chaos started anew.

***

Ultimately, Steve decided to stay, not because he wanted to be a part of the drag queens meeting, but because Tony batted his long eyelashes at him and asked for help with preparing some snacks, because he forgot to order catering and serving drag queens cheesy puffs and carbonated drinks Tony's pantry had plenty off, seemed just wrong. Steve made a quick round to the nearest grocery shop and came back hauling bags with fresh veggies and rice paper for spring rolls and veggie platters, and followed the very specific instructions Tony had given him what kind of cheeses and fruits to buy for a more decadent cheese board. In the meantime, Tony gave his living space a quick clean, all the time wearing the black pumps, which was very, very distractive for Steve, who had almost cut his finger off while he was dicing the cheese into bite-sized pieces. So, they decided to switch. Literally.

Time was passing, and soon the first guests started to show up.

"Honey?!" Tony called from the kitchen table, arranging the fresh veggies around the homemade dips, when the doorbell rang, "can you get that?"

Steve grunted, closing the door to the closet, just in time finishing the vacuuming. "Really, Tony?" he called back, his feet tired enough as it was.

"Please? You are closer to the door," Tony reasoned and while it was true, Steve grunted again, knowing that his boyfriend just wanted to torment him more. Dragging one foot at a time and walking in slow, wobbly steps, Steve had made it to the door, just in time as the person on the other side started to rattle on the doorknob impatiently.

"Coming, coming!" Steve opened the door, seeing Bucky, holding a bottle of sparkling wine and six pack of beer.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky grinned at his friend, tilting his head up and creasing his eyebrows. "Huh, I thought you were smaller."

"Who is that?"

"It is Buck!" Steve called, motioning for Bucky to come in and taking steps back, the clicking sound drawing Bucky's attention to his feet.

"What-" Bucky burst into laughter, seeing Steve's feet squeezed into two sizes too small pumps.

"Ah, my daughter!" Tony called playfully, coming out of the kitchen and joining them. "Air kisses!" he said and him and still laughing Bucky leaned closer to each other, smooching the air around their cheeks with an exaggerated 'muah' sounds. "I think you can take them off now, Steve," Tony said, turning to his boyfriend.

"Finally!" Steve breathed out, happily kicking off the pumps, his face saying pure relief. Tony slid his feet into the shoes and did a short test walk, before smiling wide.

"Perfect. Thanks, honey!"

"Beer?" still chuckling Bucky offered to Steve, holding the six pack and encouraging Steve to take a one. "You seem like you need a one, pal."

Steve couldn't agree more.

***

The place was getting crowded and more lively, as more drag queens started to appear. Tony's friend showed up next, boy name Bruce, drag queen name Lady Mint, who worked downtown and was a type of drag queen Tony referred to as a comedy queen, meaning exaggerated makeup and a witty, observant sense of humor. Bruce as a person seemed like a nice guy, a bit distant and in his own world, but Steve could picture that drag brought out a new side in him. Arrow showed fashionably late, carrying a stack of fashion magazines and fabric samples, the most invested into the costume design world of all queens.

It was loud and joyful and Steve was having fun.

"So, let me put it straight," Steve started sipping his beer when the party started for good.

"Ha! Straight!" Arrow hollered, swirling prosecco in her tall glass. "Your boyfriend is so cute, Red."

"I know," Tony beamed proudly and Steve continued.

"You are the multitalented one," he pointed out to Arrow, meaning her talent for designing clothes and nearly circus acts on stage, and Arrow held her chin proudly, "you are the funny one," he turned to Lady Mint, "and you are the pretty one," Steve ended on Red and then turned to Tootsie. "And that makes you-?"

"The alcoholic one!" Tootsie exclaimed, holding her beer can high, the rest of her sisters joining in a cheer.

"And Mint is not only the funny one, but she also has Ph.D. in nuclear physics and biochemistry," Red said and Steve whistled quietly, because, well that was impressive.

Mint smiled gratefully at her sister, and Steve had to add that she was also the modest of the group. "Red is also an academic."

"Oh, please," Red waved her hand dismissively, "I just have some doctorates, but I still chose to spend my days fixing the world's most respected car brands," she said, trying to brush it off as it was nothing, but there was some smug note in her voice she didn't try to hide.

"And I can burp out the alphabet," Tootsie bragged and Steve laughed together with everyone and heard Lady Mint turning to Tootsie and asking if she ever thought about doing a comedy routine.

Steve felt really good and maybe he would extend his stay, but then the hour for him to leave came.

"Hey, I will be going," Steve said, taking Red by the elbow and interrupting the discussion over a fashion magazine and material samples about if Red could pull off a dress with an open leg or not.

"Huh? Why?" Red asked, genuinely surprised. She thought Steve was enjoying himself. "Are you still worried we will put you in drag? Don't worry, we won't-"

"We won't?" Arrow asked, lifting her head up from the magazine, sounding disappointed.

"No amount of makeup will help that face," Tootsie grumbled out, teasing her friend, and Lady Mint snorted so hard, the prosecco came out through her nose and more laughter followed.

"Add that to your act, Minty!"

Someone called but Steve and Red already walked away from the chaos, Red watching Steve taking his jacket.

"You are welcomed to stay," Red said, sounding minimally hurt.

"I know, and I would love to," Steve replied, pulling his shoes on and smooching Velvet's forehead. "I just made plans earlier. Promised my mom to drop in for dinner, didn't see her in a while."

"Oh," Red blinked in surprise. That was a sweet surprise. "Uh, then say hello to Sarah from me," she smiled, her voice sounding a little odd as if hiding something, but Steve didn't notice.

"I will. Will see you tomorrow, okay?" Steve said, leaning in for a proper kiss. "Bye gu- girls!" he called in general direction of the gathering, hearing a collective bye in return.

"Bye," Red said with a soft smile, closing the door behind her boyfriend. She waited a bit at the door, in case if Steve would forget something, but he didn't come back. Before chaos could start again, Red turned to her sisters and daughter with a serious face and a burning question. "Okay, ladies, real talk time!" she called, clapping in her hands for attention and waited for all to focus on her. "What do you think of Steve?"

"Oh, he is gorg!"

"Seems like a decent guy."

"You can do better than that punk!"

Red just smiled and sipped her sparkling wine, hearing the collective thought exchange about her boyfriend. Except for Bucky's half-hearted remarks, everything was positive.

"It isn't important what we think, though," Arrow said, flipping a page in the magazine, "what is important is what you think. So?"

Everyone turned to her, waiting for the moment of truth. Red looked down, thinking about the last months with Steve. Steve was kind and honest and sweet. He had some hidden heat in himself and a lot of passion. But most importantly, he seemed to love both sides of him, equally fascinated by Red Velvet as by Tony Stark. Tony felt safe and loved and pampered, but Steve also wasn't afraid to give him a piece of his mind when needed. It was very rare to find a person like that.

"I like him," Red finally said, "a lot. I think I really like him."

Arrow hummed in agreement, Lady Mint smiled, glad for her sister finding happiness, and it was again Tootsie who had to spoil it all.

"Please don't tell me that my best friend will become my new dad, I won't handle it."

And just like that it became loud and cheerful again, and Red was outvoted on if she would look good in an open leg dress, but she could definitely wear a body tight dress with a slit in the back going all the way down because her bubble butt was one of her greatest features.

***

"Hey, ma!"

"Stevie!" Sarah brightened as soon as Steve walked into his childhood home. She went to greet her son, her voice becoming stern suddenly. "Did you wipe your shoes on the doormat?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve nodded with a grin. Somethings don't change, no matter how old you get.

"That's my boy," Sarah praised and Steve leaned his head for a hello kiss on his cheek. "Go wash your hands before dinner."

"You need any help, ma?" Steve called after Sarah and took his shoes off, as the woman already moved back into the kitchen.

"No, just hurry up, before soup gets cold!"

Steve smiled to himself. Really, some things never change.

While Sarah was putting finishing touches on the mashed potatoes, Steve slowly finished a plate of tomato soup with noodles. His mom remembered that he wasn't a fan of the acidity in tomatoes and added a generous splash of sweet cream, making it smoother for the palate. With time, Steve's taste changed and he was better at handling more sour flavors, but still, the gesture was sweet and the soup tasted like his childhood. They didn't talk much, but the silence around them was so comforting and Steve just soaked in the serene atmosphere, feeling like a kid again.

"Ready. Eat up," Sarah smiled, putting in front of Steve a plate with a huge scoop of mashed potatoes and a generous portion of beef tips, all smothered with dark and shiny sauce. Delicious, homemade food.

"Thanks, ma," Steve smiled, taking his fork and watching his mom reaching her hand for his empty soup plate. "Please, ma. Leave it, I will clean later. Sit with me for a while."

Sarah seemed surprised, but smiled in the end, accepting the invitation. "I will just get us something to drink," she said, and Steve huffed a bit, wishing for his mom to finally sit down with him and rest. He kept his eyes fixed on his mom as she brewed tea for herself and poured a tall glass of lemonade for him, and Steve saw that there was something different about his mom, but he couldn't exactly point what. Chewing slowly on his food and savoring the taste, Steve kept thinking about what could have changed. His mom was always a beautiful woman, but she valued hard work over looks and as a nurse spent most of her days caring for others than for herself. Hair always tied in a low ponytail, almost no makeup, maybe for some people it was bland and boring, for Steve it was modest and natural. And now… Sarah's complexion seemed glowing, her pale skin having a healthy shine, hair seeming somehow thicker and brighter. When Sarah finally sat down across her son and smiled at him, Steve noticed that she was wearing mascara and had subtly contoured eyebrows, which gave definition to her whole face.

"Hey, ma," Steve said, taking a piece of the tender beef and mushroom on his fork and into his mouth. "You look different."

"What do you mean, dear?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her tea. That drew Steve's attention to her hands which also changed, not calloused anymore after long hours from working, but smooth and soft, nails in neat, oval shape and coated with sheen nail polish. Just like Steve's were.

"I don't know," Steve said mysteriously, "but you look nice. Is there a reason you got all dolled up?" he asked playfully.

Sarah laughed embarrassedly, something Steve inherited from her. "So, you noticed, huh?" she asked back, looking down at her knees with a small smile. "I am just trying something new."

Steve nodded, silently chewing on the piece of meat. Since his dad died, years ago, he saw his mom closing in, struggling to find a place for herself. If a bit of makeup was what she needed to feel better, Steve supported that wholeheartedly.

"It is all thanks to your friend."

"Mhuh?" Steve said with a mouthful of potatoes, almost dropping his fork. "Dohny?"

"Dear, please," Sarah said in a petulant voice and Steve swallowed his food properly, before speaking again.

"Ma, did you mean Tony?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve which earned him another stern look.

"Yes, Tony," Sarah confirmed, meaningfully sliding a napkin closer to her son. "I bumped into him some time ago, and I asked him some more about skincare because the facial mask he recommended worked so well. Since then we stay in touch," she said and Steve could only listen and force his mouth to stay shut. He didn't know that Tony kept in touch with his mom. "It was his idea for me to start applying some makeup again and he recommended me a really good beautician and manicurist. My friends started to notice the change too, they say I look ten years younger," she laughed warmly.

"You always looked young, ma," Steve quickly cut in, meaning every word.

"That's sweet of you. Are you ready for dessert? Made your favorite," Sarah smiled, standing up and heading to the counter.

Steve bit his lower lip. Why Tony didn't tell him about being in touch with his mom? Was it because of the last time and the freakout he had when his mom saw him and Tony together, and Steve started to panic that she might suspect something? Seemed so… And Steve felt really bad, that he was ready to kiss Tony in front of strangers and basketball teams, but felt too guilty to hold his boyfriend's hand in front of his own mother. And Sarah seemed to get along well with Tony… And…

"Tadaaah!" Sarah exclaimed playfully, putting in front of Steve a perfect slice of a perfect apple pie. "Hope you still like it."

Steve loved it. But somethings he loved more. Someone.

"Ma… Please, sit down."

Sarah looked alarmed at the sudden change of tone and the serious look on her boy's face.

"I need to tell you something," Steve continued, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. Now or never.

Sarah sat down, her face clouding with worry.

The apple pie had to wait.

***

It was late evening when Tony had just finished putting the leftover veggies into the fridge and straightened up, stretching his spine out. He could call the drag queens meeting a success, but he also felt so tired. He smiled when he saw a torn out page from the fashion magazine stuck to his fridge with a magnet, a ruby red maxi dress with an open back presented on a model and Arrow's print next to it.

'Think about it! Just lower!'

Tony chuckled, looking at the design. He would never walk out on the stage in a dress that showed his ass crack. Showing to Steve like that in the privacy of his home, was a totally different story… He took the page with himself and went to the bedroom, thinking that maybe he would try some new facial mask and take an extra long bath. He just finished changing into his tiny bathrobe, when he noticed his phone vibrating on the nightstand and Steve's photo flashing on the screen. Tony accepted the call, already smiling to the thought that Steve was so sweet and called him just to wish him a good night.

"Hi, honey! Did you miss me already?" Tony asked in a flirty tone, waiting for a reply that didn't come. "Uh… hello? Steve?" Tony tried again. There was some uneven breath on the other side, and before Tony could panic, Steve finally spoke in a hollow voice.

"I told my mom."

"Told your mom wha-" Tony's voice got stuck when he realized what Steve meant. Sarah was a sweet lady, but hearing that your child was gay was probably never easy, even for the most loving parents. Tony really feared what he might hear next. "Oh, sweetheart…" he started in a voice so compassionate, the only answer he heard was a chocked out sob, Steve tried to hold in. "What happened?" Tony asked, not hearing the answer, just the sound of a car zooming past. "Wait… Steve, where are you?"

More silence. Tony could almost feel how tormented Steve was.

"Steve. Where the hell are you?" Tony asked, growing more and more worried. He heard enough of heartbreaking coming out stories and he would never live it down if Steve would become one of them.

"I am in front of your building."

"What-" Tony immediately got up from bed, running to the window, hoping to see his boyfriend. It turned dark already and he didn't see much. "I am coming for you, stay where you are."

"Tony-"

"Stay where you are," Tony ordered, ending the connection. He didn't care to change and only wrapped a coat around himself and slipped bare feet into a pair of sneakers, not wanting to waste any time. He grabbed his keys and his phone, just in case, and ran down the stairs, ignoring the elevator and finding it too slow in such an urgent situation.

"Steve!" Tony busted out of the building, running into the street and looking around the sidewalk, searching and hoping. He saw Steve where he said he was, just on the other side of the street. No wonder Tony didn't spot him at first. Tony crossed the street and stopped in front of his boyfriend and the sight was breaking his heart. Who knew for how long Steve had been standing like that. His cheeks were flushed from cold, eyes glossy and tired, and he still kept his phone pressed to his ear, listening to the silence.

"Honey… Come on, let's go. Please," Tony reached his hand for Steve's cold one, and gently tugged him over and together, step by step, they walked back into the building and back to Tony's apartment.

————-

<– previous part ….. next part —> 

————-

Bruce’s drag name was created by a dear friend of mine @steve-sketchbooks. thanks for your love for this story!

————-

tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx ,  @mangakats, @mystey-writes,@w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle, @the-pop-culture-geek

[wesker20]

Fallen Hero 1.5 Episode 3: Old Friends

Spoilers for those who have not read the Alpha.

“Ma chérie, what did you do?” Mortum says while staring at the destroyed taser weapon.

“Me nothing. My boss...” you drag out the silence for a second before finishing with “they fought a polymorph.” Mortum looks at you with raised eyebrows as if a sudden understanding just hit her.

“Oh. Well that’s understandable,” she says while staring at the weapon again. “You want me to fix it?”

“I want you to make it better. More powerful without frying itself.”

Mortum scratches her chin as she thinks. “I could change the power source. You can get it for cheap but it will be bigger. A battery of the same size would be considerably more expensive.”

“You know money is not a problem. Make it the small source.” Almost as if on cue, Mortum turns around and goes to her table.

“If you are willing Ma chérie, it will only take a couple of hours.”

Good to know you think. “By the way,” you begin as you head towards her and walk around the table to face her. “Do you have any information about said polymorph?”

“Maybe, but you are going to have to describe them to me, I’m no psychic.”

“five six, probably five seven, long black hair, thin and wears a red and white skin tight suit.”

Mortum raises her head up for a second as if checking up a mental list. “Red Doll. Doll, for short.”

“Never heard of her.”

“You wouldn’t. She and her partner, The Shine, have only been at this for a couple of months. Newcomers. Right mindset too. It’s better to begin with a partner than alone.” She goes back to working on the taser.

“More like was a good mindset. Mastermind killed Shine last week. Now Doll wants payback.” Mortum chuckles but does not say anything. Probably thinking the same thing you are, Doll is letting her emotions control her and now she’s going after someone above her league. Or so you thought. She did hold her own against you, to say that you got lucky would be an understatement. “Anything else you might have on her. Most of my contacts couldn’t even give me a name.”

“Same boat as you ma chérie. You know how most villains work. They don’t pay attention to newcomers until they become a problem. So very little information on them. On the one hand that’s the advantage of being new.”

And a stupid habit if they ask you. It is precisely for that reason that many heroes get the drop on the top villains many times. They let those heroes grow and become threats. And then they are whining why they lost. “Well she’s a newcomer who held her own against my boss. And Lady Argent.” You emphasize that last part, as if trying to get a reaction out of the doctor.

You do, she raises her eyes to meet yours. “At the same time?” you nod. “Huh, well there you have it ma chérie. It wouldn’t be long now before people start looking her way. Especially if she begins stirring up trouble while searching for your boss.”

“Even so, there’s still the trouble of fighting her. That taser gave her a good shock but according to my boss, Argent was the one who finished it. So any advice?”

“Ice,” she says without even raising her face.

“Ice?” you echo, not exactly sure what she means.

“True, ice is bad for everyone, but polymorphs in particular have a nasty problem with it.”

You stare at her with curiosity. Once she notices she begins explaining.

“A polymorph’s molecules are always in flux, in movement, barely kept together. That is what gives them their elasticity. But freeze them over and the polymorphs are left effectively powerless. Or well it should, in theory.”

“In theory,” you repeat with a frown.

“Polymorphs are rare ma chérie, is not like I can get one to test it out. Dead specimens alone cost a fortune. Enough that I could build your boss twenty identical suits and still have money to spare with how much they cost.”

You sigh. This right here is why you hate fighting polymorphs. Any and all lack of information puts you at a severe disadvantage against them and no matter how hard you try they can get the drop on you without you realizing it. They can be the absolute worst fighters in the world and still kick your ass.

“Can you build an ice gun too that will fit on the suit?” you finally say. You are going to need all the weaponry you can get. Mortum raises her face to meet yours again, one eyebrow raised.

“I could. But that will cost a bit more on top of the taser. And it may take more than a couple of hours.”

“Like I said, money’s not a problem. Do it”

“You are sure your boss will like this?” she asks with slight worry. She has probably worked with other villains that didn’t liked having their weapons tampered with. But you are not as possessive. A suit is just a suit, a tool for your plans, nothing more, there’s no need for sentimental value.

“I know they will.” The certainty of your answer scares even you.

“Understood ma chérie. Just give me a week. Maybe two.” she says with a neutral tone, not giving any emotion away. You nod and bid your goodbyes but just as you get ready to step out Mortum speaks. “I don’t make it a habit of getting into others personal lives ma chérie, but if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so loyal to them?”

“Because they saved my life,” the answer comes out before you can even think. What the hell was that? It’s a good excuse, technically not a lie, and it serves as a very good reason. Still it came out even more genuine than you expected.

“How so?”

“Without them I would have rotten in a hospital bed. Probably would be dead by now. They gave me a second chance. I owe them that.”

You see a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, brief as it is, but you see it staring at your puppet, at you. “Understandable. But remember, loyalty like that can be used, manipulated.”

Jane, you, nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You turn around and head outside, you got far more things to work on. There’s still one more place for you to go. Or rather there’s one more place for Jeremy to go.

Later that afternoon.

You arrive at the Rangers HQ, staring at it as if it was a dangerous cave with a hungry monster waiting for you inside. Only you no longer feel that way. Four months ago, when Ortega brought you here to help with Argent, that’s what you felt, like you were walking into that cave and that monster would devour you. But you managed to step out of there alive, unharmed. Now… now you can stroll into it without a care in the world. It’s so much fun, you beat them, destroyed them. And yet here you are, in their stronghold, with them none the wiser. It takes all of your effort to not smile as you enter. The receptionist recognizes you almost immediately and sends you on your way to the visitor’s area as she passes on the message to Ortega. So many times have you come here that the layout of the first floor and the walk to the visitor’s area has been imprinted in your mind. You wonder if you could eventually get access to other areas but Chen will probably shoot that down faster than Ortega’s nagging.

As you arrive Ortega’s already there, looking as smug as ever and holding a cup next to the fridge. “You know sooner or later people will start getting ideas again,” she says teasing already.

“Oh so you mean that the media would dare to make something out of nothing?” you say with fake shock.

“And like that you ruined the joke.”

“What makes you think that wasn’t my goal?” She punches you slightly on the shoulder before gesturing you to sit.

“So what brought you out of your cave?” she says, still in teasing mode.

“Not much. Just came to check how things were going here. Your numbers aren’t doing very well.”

Ortega chuckles and says “I know. PR has been cranky lately, screaming in our ears.”

“Let me guess,” you clear your throat and continue. “’We need you out there. The public needs to see their heroes together. Stop wasting time and get out there’” you continue imitating them as Ortega breaks into laughter. You were present during several of their arguments back in your Sidestep days. The days where you would just sit with Anathema and crack jokes with one another as the PR guy ranted on and on.

“Pretty much. Though you forgot the part where they fumble their words while Angie glares at them.”

“Speaking of Argent. Did you heard?” you say. Ortega’s groan is all you need to know she has; and she’s not exactly happy.

“I had a chat with her about it.”

“And?” you ask.

“You can’t see it but I have a bruise on my stomach.”

You clear your throats as if imagining how much that hurts. Not that you have to, you know how that feels. “It can’t be so bad can it? I mean it wouldn’t be the first time the Rangers have a minor conflict with other heroes.”

“You are right, but we don’t team up with bad guys when it happens.” There’s a certain venom in that last statement, as if she wants to say more but stops short of just that.

“How’s the girl doing?”

“Red Doll? Fine. Pissed off and almost picked another fight with Angie but fine.”

“Red Doll?” you say with fake obliviousness. You want to know what they know.

“Yeah, she’s new. We have a file on her as just in case we want to recruit her. Though to be honest I doubt she would accept an invitation any time soon.”

“You said it. Argent laid the smack down on her.” Ortega looks at you puzzled. Shit, you slipped up there. “From what I’ve heard,” you add hoping to deflect.

Ortega nods and says "Poor girl lost her boyfriend last week. All because of that cabrón.”

You look at her for a moment. She wants to talk about him, about Mastermind, about you.

“What’s the deal with that guy. Mastermind I mean.”

“Well at first I thought they were just a newcomer, looking to make a name for themselves. I honestly thought they got lucky the first time. But the more I run the museum through my head,” she stops wondering.

“What?” you ask with genuine curiosity. You want to know what she thinks, what she may or may not have on you.

“This guy’s a pro. They aren’t just any newcomer; they know what they are doing. They have experience.” She stares at you as if seeking some sort of confirmation. If you had to guess, this is not her theory, but Steel’s. You should have expected that from him, you were always equally smart, a fact you are not particularly keen on admitting, but if you believe in their position you could figure out this much you should have expected Steel to do the same.

“What you are saying is that they are, what? A villain who changed their shtick?”

“Or maybe a hero too,” Ortega says. You stare at her in the eyes, you see no accusatory glance, no suspicion, nothing. Just honest wonder.

You lean back on the chair, pretending to consider the possibility.

“Honestly it wouldn’t be the first time,” she says and takes a sip. She’s right, many heroes have turned to the dark side before, many of them turning out to be more dangerous than the normal villains. Even some Rangers have. This was before your time but according to Anathema they had a member named Karma who had the power of probability manipulation. She turned bad and nearly killed all of the rangers before she disappeared without a trace. You always wondered if she was taken by the prime directive but never bothered to investigate. It’s none of your problem. Still you can see the mourning on Ortega. If she was talking about someone, it was probably Karma.

“Anyway, enough about that. How are you doing? You look much better,” she says suddenly, looking at you with a smile.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you don’t look as grumpy as you used to.”

“What are you talking about, I’m always grumpy,” you say with fake annoyance and your arms crossed. After a moment you both laugh a bit. It’s so easy, to just lay back and talk and laugh with her, like it used to be. Just you, Ortega, Anathema, and even Steel, just sitting there after a job well done.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel someone pass by you and towards the fridge. Argent. You are starting to wonder if there’s some god up there screwing with you. Maybe one day you’ll go take a piss and suddenly hear Argent outside your apartment with how much you bump into her. She seems to not even notice you, and if she does doesn’t seem to care. Both of you stare at her as she opens the fridge and searches. “Hungry?” Ortega asks smiling.

“Dying.” Argent answers with the most pissed off tone you have ever heard her speak in. Then again she seems to always be pissed off. She closes the fridge and walks right pass you with at least, ten snacks.

“You know stress eating is not good for you,” you say jokingly, but she seems to ignore you. You look back at Ortega and say “is she ever going to stop treating me like I’m not here.”

“Eh, give her a couple weeks. She’ll come around.”

“I’ve been coming here for four months.”

“How long did it take you to finally stop ignoring me when we first met?”

You do not answer. Ortega nagged you for months until you finally gave up. You cross your arms again and gruff making Ortega chuckle.

“Where’s Herald by the way? Last time I was here he could not leave my side,” you ask, less out of curiosity and more to change the subject.

“Handling the media. Giving a press conference. You know the usual.”

“It has to do with the fight?” Ortega nods. Of course it does.

“How’s he dealing with the whole thing?” you ask.

“Surviving,” is all she says about it. “You know, I was thinking maybe you could-“

“No.” you cut her off. She really does not know when to give up. This is the eight time she tries to ask you to come back.

In any event you finish the conversation here. You have what you came for. The rangers suspect that Mastermind is a veteran and Red Doll is apparently good enough the Rangers have been considering her for recruitment. Neither of those two things are good news. So you give your goodbyes and go. Time to plan out your next move.

Night.

Sitting on your bed you think about the events two nights ago. There are many things to consider. Argent was clearly after you, and so is Red Doll. Then there’s the Army of Mastermind; someone tipped them off your crew was coming and although they got out of there alive, it doesn’t change the fact that whoever did it may try it again. And you have to be prepared for that. But how do you fight a mystery foe? Suddenly one of your phones rings, the Mastermind phone. Only Pelayo and Rosie have that number and they are ordered to only use it in emergencies.

“Yes,” you say, your voice changed on the other end of the line to sound like your monotone heart shaking voice that comes out of your mask.

“Hello there Mastermind.” That’s neither Rosie nor Pelayo.

“Who is this?” you ask in your most commanding tone.

“Already forgot about me huh? I don’t blame you, last we saw each other, Alpha was reeducated, and you escaped.”

Your eyes open wide open. Alpha, you haven’t heard that name in well over a decade, not since, since… your days in the Farm. She was your leader, the leader of your unit, another re-gene. And, like Ortega, you cared about her.

“Who. Is. This?” You say with barely restrained rage. This person knows, they know who, what you are. They know about your past, enough that they know about Alpha.

“Let’s just say I’m a fan of yours.

“What type of fan?”

“The type that likes to see how you handle yourself.”

“You tipped off the Army,” you say. You don’t know how but you did. If they know this much, they must have known about your plans too.

“And I also tipped the polymorph too. And the Ranger. And you.”

“What?” you ask. What do they mean? They tipped you off too?

“I’m the one that passed on the information onto your contacts. The one who gave you the location of the Army.”

“Why?”

“I’ll let you know. Eventually. For now, just turn on the TV.”

You do as they say not much choice on the matter. Immediately you see an entire street filled with people, not just any people, gang members. The Army of Mastermind.

“How do you like your Army o great Mastermind?” the voice says with mockery.

“I don’t want it. They are loud and disorganized.”

“Then why don’t you organize them? I’m pretty sure they’ll follow you.”

“Too risky. Too many mouths to keep quiet.”

“Aaah, so a control freak is what you are. Good to know. Alright Beta-“

You cut it off “Don’t call me that,”

“Mastermind, All I want is to see you shine.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Trust issues? I don’t blame you.”

You clench your fist, squeeze the phone and ask once again “Who. Are. You.?”

“I’m the voice of your consciousness,” and the line goes dead. You lay down the phone and stare at the TV. Riot, the Army is rioting, burning cars everywhere, police overwhelmed. This will bring unwanted attention. But that’s not what has you sweating, that’s not what has your heart beating a million miles a second, is the fact that they knew, they know about your past, who you were, who you really are. Beta…

Unit Beta 010, led by unit Alpha 203 of the infiltration and extraction unit, also known as the Cuckoos. Your unit, the unit you broke apart, that you destroyed, by making one stupid mistake: caring.

[2013sharry]

DJ Got Us Falling In Love

Hello, hello! I am finally back with more writing! Honestly, the only reason I took so long was because this literally took me almost two months to write because I am the worst and my computer broke and I don’t really even know. This isn’t completely how I wanted it to be but I’ve been writing it for two months and I couldn’t keep tweaking it anymore. Let me know what you think! 

EDIT: I totally forgot to mention that I kind of set this up as a Part 2 for Secret Love Song. It can be read as a standalone one shot if you want but if you want some backstory for it or were looking for a part 2 for SLS you can read it like that as well!

“So baby tonight, the DJ’s got us falling in love again.”

You’re torturing yourself. Scrolling through all your social media only hurts you but it’s like your fingers work of their own accord.

It’s everything Harry trained you not to do. “Don’ pay attention t'it, love,” he’d murmur in your ear as he’d reach around you to close incriminating tabs open on your laptop. “Doesn’t mean anythin’.” But it did mean something, it always did.

More than ever, you should be heeding his advice. Every article, every new picture, every interview twists the knife in you that much more. It’s enough that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. But now you’re forced to watch his life unfold in front of your very eyes, whether you like it or not.

And like it, you do not. It isn’t as simple as unfollowing him like with any old ex. No because his face would still be splashed all over the internet, even if it isn’t his social media pages you’re checking.

Although, you are checking. And you don’t like what you see.

Countless blogs and gossip sites have his picture all over their page, speculating about the new girl he’d been parading around. Even as you read the various accounts, you can hear his voice in the back of your mind, “S'not real. These people are jus’ bored. Need something to do,” but you push it away. He’d broken up with you, hadn’t he? You don’t have to listen to what he says, even if it is only in your mind.

“Stop it,” a voice chimes out that mirrors the one in your head. You peel your eyes from your phone screen in time to watch your best friend snatch it from your hand.

“Hey!” You reach to grab it back but she only pulls it farther.

“This is not healthy,” she continues, rolling up the window of the cab. She smooths out the unruly mess the wind had made of her hair, dropping the phone in her bag. “I’m taking this hostage.”

“Give it back,” you insist. You had been only moments away from discovering the identity of your ex’s mystery girl. A sigh escapes you when you remember that you were once considered his mystery girl.

“No,” she fights back. “Come on. We’re having a girls’ night.”

It had been months since you and Harry broke up but you still didn’t feel ready to get back out there. Your friends had understood, giving you the space to figure things out for yourself, but tonight you aren’t being granted that space. It isn’t so much a girls’ night as it’s your best friend dragging you out of the house. And though she’d nearly had to pull you out of your bed kicking and screaming, once you walk through the door of the bar, you feel good. Maybe you aren’t ready to put yourself out there yet, but you could still dress up and have a good time with your best friend.

“Drinks?” she asks and you nod in agreement. “You go find a table, I’ll grab us something.” With that, she’s off to flirt her way to free drinks.

Your eyes scan the room, hoping for an empty table. Nothing was worse than wearing shoes you couldn’t possibly stand in all night in a place with nowhere to sit. Much to your dismay, that seems to be exactly the case tonight. Undeterred you make your way over to a table of drunk girls. If nothing else, your specialty was hovering around tables in the hopes of snatching them up as soon as they became available. However, these girls are just as determined to stay as you are, so you glance around the room for another table almost ready to leave. And that’s when you spot him.

You hope you’re imagining things but the curly head and flashy shirt are a dead giveaway. It’s definitely him, and with the flock of people hovering around him, you’re surprised you hadn’t noticed earlier.

And it’s like he can sense your eyes on him because within seconds, he’s turning to face you, eyes wide with surprise when they register you. You avert yours, hoping it’ll give the impression that he shouldn’t come over. But either he doesn’t notice, or he ignores it, because out of the corner of your eye, you see him excuse himself and make his way over.

Your heart is pounding at such a rapid pace you feel like everyone else in the room can hear it. The space between the two of you is growing smaller and smaller which each one of his heeled boot steps but you still can’t manage to look over at him. Maybe if you keep your eyes squeezed shut you can will this to just be your imagination.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ standing here all by yourself?” And suddenly, your eyes fly open. There Harry is, standing in front of you, his signature smirk pointing directly at you. The sound of his voice hits you like a train and you’re certain your knees are going to give out. You’d heard his voice in interview clips and the crooning sound of it on his album but to hear it directed at you makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Hi,” you reply back lamely. Neither of you say anything after that and even in the crowded bar, you feel like the silence is swallowing you whole.

“Yeh know,” he says after realizing you aren’t continuing, “you don’ have to stand over here alone. Could sit with us.” He gestures back across the room to his already packed table. You catch glimpses of members of his team that had never approved of you and people that look so glamorous that you feel out of place being in the same space as them. The exact group that had intimidated you out of your relationship.

“That’s ok,” you say, coming off a little shy. “It looks like you’re all full anyway.”

“‘S’always room for yeh.” He says this so directly, his eyes locked on you. You’re suddenly aware of how empty your hands are and would kill for that drink your friend promised you.

You choose not to respond, mostly because you don’t know how to. “I’m here with someone, anyway.” You swear his smile falters. “Uh, she’s at the bar getting us drinks.”

His face brightens a little at the clarification and thankfully, he finally averts his eyes from you to take a look towards the bar. He squints, “’S tha—?”

“Yeah,” you confirm and he smiles.

“Doesn’ look like she’s bringing ‘em over anytime soon.” You follow his gaze to see your friend making conversation with the bartender with what is most definitely her flirty face, sipping on an already half empty drink. You note yours sitting right in front of her, discarded and ice melting.

“C’mon,” he says and you turn your attention back to him. His hand is outstretched and you hesitate.

Its one thing to make casual conversation with him in passing but it’s a different thing altogether to take his hand and spend the night at his table with him. It would be too much like old times for you to bear. But his eyes gently plead you, something you’re very familiar with, and like always you’re powerless to resist. Your hand reaches out, almost on its own accord, and takes his. The smile on his face grows and he moves to lead you through the crowd.

At his table, he introduces you to a few people loitering around before pulling you to sit down next to him. You can’t help but note the mysterious blonde from the internet photos and the fact that he doesn’t extend his hand to introduce you.

He’s got bottles at his table and though you’re about to refuse, Harry’s already poured you a drink – your favorite, of course. He slides it over to you without a word and he picks up his own glass. It’s quiet between the two of you, both sipping on your respective drinks, until he speaks up and it’s like his voice echoes across the whole place.

“You look…amazing,” he says, almost breathless. The intensity of his gaze used to make you feel special, the most important person in the room to him. But right now, it makes you feel shy, like you don’t deserve it anymore.

With averted eyes, you reply with a soft, “Thanks.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you and you feel the sudden need to reciprocate. “You look very handsome, yourself.” Your compliment is spoken just as softly with an added, “As always.” A blush flies over your cheeks at the involuntary addition but he doesn’t seem to mind.

His lips curve into a smile and it fills your body with unexpected warmth. It may not have happened too often right before things ended, but nothing could make you forget the feeling of knowing you were the reason he was smiling. His expression lingers and you find yourselves just looking at each other. To be honest, after all this time, it was nice to be able to see his face somewhere that wasn’t the grainy screen of your computer.

As if on cue, Sign of the Times comes blaring through the speakers. It’s some insane club remix, and you scrunch your nose in displeasure. “You know,” you say, straining to be heard over his voice pumping out of the speakers, “your new stuff is really good.”

“Don’ think I forgot to add a bass drop?” he comments with a cheeky smile as the beat thumps heavily around the bar.

A giggle escapes your lips at the thought of him making beats in the studio. “Definitely not.”

He chuckles, breaking eye contact and looking down at his drink. “Thanks, though. I, uh, I’m glad t’see your opinion hasn’t changed.”

“I’ve been listening to it non-stop,” you admit. “It’s my favorite album to listen to at the moment.”

“Mine too,” he replies. “In the least self-absorbed way possible, of course,” he adds with a dry chuckle.

And with that, the two of you fall into a rhythm that feels almost too natural. His head still falls back the same way when he laughs at something silly you say. Your eyes still nearly roll out of your head when he tries to subtly sneak a few puns into the conversation. And even though there’s plenty of space between you two, his hand still manages to brush up against the bare skin of your knee a few times, sending your heart rate soaring.

A few more drinks, a few sideward glances you throw the blonde at the end of the table, and almost an hour of catching up goes by. His arm is resting around the back of your chair now, his own chair having been slid over little by little directly next to yours at some point.

He’s leaning in when he speaks, so close you can feel the fan of his warm breath across your skin. “You know, it’s really…” Harry trails off, like he’s lost steam but the inquisitive look on your face pushes him forward. “It’s really good t’see yeh.”

And though your heart aches for him even more now that he’s sitting right next to you, you agree. “You too,” you say. The hint of politeness in your voice isn’t lost on him.

“No,” he says, sighing as if you didn’t understand him. He runs a hand over his face, frustrated, seemingly trying to string together the words to make you understand him. “I jus’…I haven’ been able to stop thinkin’ about yeh since everything happened.”

His face displays a hint of the same sadness that you’d been feeling deep in your chest every moment you’d been separated from him. He’s given you an opening. It’s a chance to really tell him how you’ve been feeling – the night you broke up, the months since, and even the bittersweet moments you’d spent with him tonight. It’s your chance to finally tell him how desperately you miss him.

But missing him is an understatement and you aren’t even sure how to express that to him.

“No, no,” he says hurriedly, and it’s only then that you realize your eyes are filling with tears, “I didn’ mean to upset yeh, love.”

You sniffle. “I need some air.” And without waiting for a response, you’re shimmying out of from behind the table to find the door. You don’t make it too far when a hand tugs on yours and you look back to see Harry.

“Door’s this way.” His head nods in the opposite direct and you allow him to pull you towards it. Feeling a bit childish, you wipe away stray tears with your free hand. The cool night air hits you as soon as the back door swings open. It’s obvious why the outdoor tables are all vacant but Harry heads towards them anyway.

“I don’t want to sit,” you say. You shiver as you wander over to the fence that closes in the back area.

Harry’s right behind you – you can feel him – but he doesn’t say anything. You take a deep breath in, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. If anything, being outside makes you feel worse. The inside of the bar, with the noise and the people, is full of distraction. Out here, it’s just the two of you.

“Talk to me,” he whispers quietly when it’s obvious your deep breathing isn’t calming you.

When you remain quiet, he sighs. “’M’sorry.” You sniffle but don’t turn around. “M’not trying to overwhelm yeh.  Jus’ when yeh show up here,” he pauses and you can see from his shadow that he’s gesturing to you, “lookin’ like that, it’s hard for me to stay away.”

A puff of air blows past your lips and you finally turn to face him. “I miss you too.” It’s so quiet you’re sure you have to repeat yourself but the twitch of his lip almost into a smile lets you know he heard loud and clear.

“Then talk to me.” Looking into his eyes, it seems so easy. Like the last few months of hurt and yearning would spill out of your mouth just because he asked. His earnest expression nearly tricks you into thinking you could solve everything in the back of some random bar.

“I just…” you trail off, contemplating the right words, even though you know there aren’t any. If there were, you’d have said them to him long ago.

Though he doesn’t prompt you any further, his body inches dangerously closer to you and the pull for him you’d felt when you first spotted him is getting hard to ignore. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to each other and selfishly you want to soak up every second of it, even if it’ll hurt later.

“I just miss you,” you repeat. It’s simple, and doesn’t even come close to the ache for him you’d been feeling, but it’s all you can come up with – nothing but the shallow characterization of your emotions that the statement brings.

His body responds to the tears continuing to brim your eyes, almost to convey words he isn’t ready to say. His hands reach out, hesitantly, to settle on your waist, pulling on you until you’re flush with him and his forehead drops to yours. With eyes closed, he lets out a sigh.

“’M so sorry,” he mumbles. Your hands feel stupid, hanging limply at your side, so you slid them to grip his arms. His sleeves are rolled up and the brush of his skin against yours sends shivers down your spine. How long had you been desperate to feel this again? “Ruined everythin’, didn’ I?”

“You didn’t,” you reassure, grip tight on his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut, sending the tears pooled in them spilling down your face. “Just…circumstances got out of hand.”

With a shake of his head, he insists, “Circumstances I let get out of hand,” and you can’t deny it. Had he not let his team’s opinions cloud his mind, maybe things wouldn’t have changed so much between the two of you.

He senses your agreement through the silence. “I’ll fix it,” he murmurs quietly. “I’ll make everything up t’yeh. Please let me make it up t’yeh.”

You want to pinch yourself. There’s no way he’s standing here, holding you, gently brushing the tears from your cheeks, telling you everything you’d been desperate to hear the last few months. Your fingers dig into his skin, involuntarily. You want to believe him so badly but it can’t really be as simple as him promising to change the hurtful way he’d let his team treat you. If it was, wouldn’t he have had tried it when you were still together?

You hold each other in silence, his hands now cupping your face, yours gripping onto the warm skin of his forearms, while Harry waits for a response – affirmation that yes, he could still make things work with you, or rejection that no, it’s too late.

At the prolonged quiet, he lifts his forehead from yours, eyes intently searching yours for some kind of answer. You look up at him, lip pulled in between your teeth. Words are lost on your tongue as you feel a breeze blow through the two of you. Being this close to him is too much, any resolve you’d have to think straight being broken down with every stroke of his thumb over your cheek, every waft of his familiar scent. And though there’s so much you want to say in response, all you can muster up is a nod of your head.

A flash of joy – or was it relief— passes through his eyes, though his serious expression doesn’t change. His thumb tugs your bottom lip from where it’s nestled between your teeth. Shallow breaths escape your lips as he leans his face closer to yours. Fingers resting on your chin, he tries to tug you closer to him. You let him.

The door to the bar banging open suddenly makes you look up. It’s a bunch of college kids, too drunk to even notice that Harry Styles is standing right in front of them. But it’s enough for you to push his hands off of you and take a step back.

“Can we go somewhere else?” he asks, not discouraged from the space you created, though he does seem to be aware of the company around you. “To talk?”

You consider the invitation for a moment.  You’d barely been resistant to his kiss in the middle of a very public place. In the privacy of one of your places, you didn’t stand a chance. And though it’s become more and more apparent with every touch that you long to feel him between your legs again, you know you need to talk more.

But if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that you’re no match for the soft gaze of his eyes.

“Ok,” you say softly and the smile that stretches across his face sets off a fire in your belly. He reaches forward to take your hands and give them a light squeeze. “I’ve got to say goodbye, though.”

Harry nods vigorously. “That’s fine. Talk to your friend. I’ve got to go make the rounds before I leave anyway,” he admits. Your heart, so high now from the proximity to him, nearly sinks right down to your toes when you recall one specific person he has to make the rounds with.

Unaware of your hesitance, he moves to let go of your hands but you tug him back.  “What about that girl?” His eyebrows scrunch in confusion and you’re tongue burns as you clarify. “That you’re all over the blogs with. The one that’s been hanging off the end of the table all night.” You look away from him as soon as the words leave your mouth, feeling like a child that was about to be scolded.

His reaction lacks frustration, and to your surprise, has more amusement to it. “The tall blonde? She’s just my new image consultant.” A relieved puff of air escapes your body and a smile attaches to your face as a similar one reemerges across his. “So you’ll meet me at my place?”

Your bottom lip is back between your teeth in contemplation but it only lasts a moment before you nod your head again to confirm. His smile spreads wider and on impulse he moves in to kiss your cheek. It’s quick but enough to send a spark through your body.

“See you there.” And then he was off, back into the bar, leaving you outside with your head spinning.

—

It takes a while to get your friend to pay attention long enough to understand what you’re talking about. Once she manages to pull herself away from making eyes at the bartender, she hands you back your phone (finally), insisting that she was fine.  

The drive down the familiar roads is quick and instinctive, like you still traveled them every day. It takes no time at all to get to Harry’s. Working up the courage to get you to the door takes a bit longer.

You stand outside with a fist hovering over the door, hesitant to knock. If you left now, you could avoid any heartbreak that waited on the other side of the door. Just because he’d promised to fix things didn’t mean that they would actually work out this time. And the thought of losing him twice makes your stomach sink. But all your fears aside, you know not going in would do more harm than good.

Knocking on the door doesn’t seem right, so you lower your hand to the knob, choosing to let yourself in. The sight of his place sets your heart racing in your chest. You’d assumed he’d switch things up a bit, take the touches you’d added back down at the very least. But he didn’t. Everything down to the photos of the two of you is exactly where you left it.

“Love?” Harry calls out. “’S tha’ you?” The sound of his voice snaps you back to why you’re here in the first place.

He’s sitting on the bed when you finally make your way to his room. His shirt is unbuttoned a bit more than before and his shoes are strewn haphazardly across the floor. He bites his lip when he sees you in the doorway, the same look in his eyes from when he’d first seen you tonight.

“Took a while,” he comments. “Was afraid yeh weren’ coming.” And you swear he’s a bit bashful. You’d seen him be many things over the course of your relationship – vulnerable, needy, a tiny bit jealous – but you’d never seen him lose his charm, not even a little.

“I almost didn’t,” you admit.

He stands up closing the space between the two of you. “Glad yeh did,” he says. You hold your breath as his long frame strides closer to you but you deflate when halfway there he turns to his dresser.

“Been meaning to call yeh,” he says as he rummages through the drawers. It isn’t what you expected but you follow him to the open drawer anyway. “Left this behind ages ago.” You recognize the shirt he pulls out immediately, wondering how you’d hadn’t noticed its absence at all in the last few months.

It’s impossible not to remember first and only time you’d worn the shirt. Before the break up, it had been a part of an outfit worn on a night out with your friends. Although, tried to wear the shirt out with your friends might be more of an accurate statement because you’d barely made it passed the kitchen before Harry was desperately trying to tear it off of you.

“Look so good, love,” he’d whispered into your ear as he hastily tugged on the straps. “Always so good.” And he’d hiked your skirt up, pressed your underwear aside, and taken you right there on the counter, girls’ night be damned.

The memory makes your cheeks burn, especially considering it had happened not too far from where you’re standing right now. It’s obvious he’s thinking of it too because he has that mischievous smirk played across his lips as his fingers stroke the fabric thoughtfully.

“Remember when…”

Your heart rate spikes and you reply before he even finishes, “Yeah.” A blush rushes over your face when you realize the damp heat spreading between your legs at the memory.

“Here.” His voice is barely perceptible at this point, reaching the shirt out for you to take. Electricity rockets through your body when you take it and your fingers brush his. You feel like a teenager standing close to their crush with the way your eyes are unable to move from lips that had so desperately pressed kisses into your skin in the memory recalled from the fabric in your hands.

His gaze is just as intense on you, looking in the way you always loved, when his hand reaches out to grab yours, using it to pull you to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs quietly. And though he’d just handed it to you, Harry reaches to slide the shirt from your hand to place back on his dresser. The hand holding yours slides to your waist once you’re close enough and his other grips behind your neck. Every bone in your body is screaming that you just came to talk but you can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart.

Gentle pressure against your back brings you to him and his thumb presses into your cheek. The butterflies swirling in your tummy apparently are contagious because he hesitates for a moment when his lips hover just above yours. Back at the bar, he’d been more than ready but between the time it took you both to get here, he seems to have lost his nerve.

He’s mere millimeters away from a much anticipated kiss but instead he brushes his nose lightly against yours. You tug involuntarily on him with your hands at his waist, unable to wait anymore and the subtle motivation from you kick starts him again.

His lips twitch above yours, hesitating before pressing a firm kiss to yours. With his bottom lip tucked into between yours and the way your bodies form together, it’s like nothing had changed. Both his hands grip at your waist, digging into the material of your dress so forcefully you swear they could rip right through. The fabric of his shirt is smooth beneath your hands as you slide them up to wrap around his neck. A gentle tug encourages him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with ease.

His taste on your tongue overwhelms you, both familiar and foreign at the same time. Everything that you’d been too afraid to say out loud radiates through your body as you press into his to kiss him as deeply as possible. You hope it’s enough to convey words that had been left unspoken for months.

Kisses that start out soft and gentle turn to hungry and needy, tongues battling to rediscover more of the other first. His lips move across your cheek to your jaw then your neck in burning kisses that leave a fire wherever they land. The sudden intensity makes your stomach swirl with a hunger for him and your mind is cautious to where it’s leading.

You press a hand to his chest to push him back in an attempt to catch your breath. “I thought you wanted to talk,” you whisper quietly and the words are barely out of your mouth before he’s pulling you back in for another kiss.

“Can talk later,” he murmurs and its obvious chatting isn’t all he’s desperate to catch up on. You can’t blame him since you don’t protest when he runs his hand down to rest at the lowest point of your back. You know you very well could protest, push back against him, insist on really talking first, and he would stop. But he’s got his hands all over your body for the first time in months and the thought of where else they’d be soon is enough to push everything else out of your mind.

You trip over his feet when he moves backward in the direction of the bed and despite the intense atmosphere, he can’t help but chuckle at your clumsiness.  His thumbs rub against your cheek affectionately as he searches your face. “Don’ have t’do anything yeh don’t wan’ to,” he murmurs close to your lips. It’s a sweet sentiment, him making it clear he’s not pressuring you, but there’s no way you could stop now even if you wanted to.

You hope your eager kiss is enough of a reassurance to him, paired with quick fingers that work to undo the few buttons his shirt has still got left. When the fabric swings open, it’s impossible for you to not reach out and touch his skin. You take your time as you trace every familiar inch of the tattoos covering him, from the intricate pattern of the butterfly all the way down to the ferns, brushing lightly at the tufts of hair that lead somewhere lower.

He stutters at the feeling of your hand dipping dangerously close to where he’s beginning to strain against his pants. “Tell me what yeh wan’,” he breathes out against your lips.

You’re toying with the cool metal of his belt when you respond a soft, “You.” At your confession, he pulls your chin up to face him, almost as if he can’t stop himself, and he presses a slow kiss to your lips that knocks the breath out of you.

Your fingers are fumbling with his belt buckle and the two of you break apart only to give you a chance to undo his belt. A loud clink greets you when you finally pull it open but you’re not as successful undoing the rest of his jeans. The anticipation of the moment makes your hands clumsy and looping his button back through its hole is proving difficult for your shaky fingers.

“’S ok, love. Go on,” he encourages. His warm fingers come to steady yours and aid in sliding the zipper down. The sharp hissing sound sends a spark of motivation back through you and you’re ansty to get him undressed. When you eagerly press him to sit down on the edge of the bed he falls back without question and watches as you kneel down between his open legs. Your heart races as fingers dig into the band of his jeans to tug them down. How long had you wished to be right in this position? How often had you hoped you were still the only girl he let see him like this? And here you are, yanking his underwear down his legs haphazardly in your haste to get them off.

He springs from the confines of the fabric, hitting against his belly. He’s already thick when you reach out to stroke up the length of him and you relish the familiar weight of him in your hand. He feels full against your palm, just as you remember, and your stomach dips when you realize you’re about to find if he still feels the same on your tongue.

With that thought in mind, your tongue darts out to lick up his length without much of a preamble. You’re pleased to find the fullness of him inside your mouth is just as you remember it and you can’t help but let your lips close around his tip to suck gently. A groan escapes him at the sudden warmth of your mouth on him and your eyes flick up to his as you open your mouth to slide down on his cock. He watches as your head starts to bob up and down, tongue flattening out as you go.

“Missed having m’ cock in your mouth,” he mumbles, hands tangling in your hair. You can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement but you moan against him regardless.

He tastes the same as you remember and you can’t stop yourself from hungrily devouring him. Your mouth chases your hand as it twists up and down on his length, eliciting little puffs of air and soft moans from him. His hips stutter and his hands press deep into the mattress to support him when you open your throat to take all of him in your mouth. “Bloody…” he trails off when his tip brushes the back of your throat and you gag a bit. You repeat the action a few times, swallowing him whole, fingernails digging into the skin of thigh.  

When you pop back off for some air, you can’t help but smile at him with swollen lips when you see the mesmerized look in his eyes. “Fuck, love,” he whispers. “Missed this so fucking much.” His thumb strokes your cheek warmly, the rest of his fingers massaging the nape of your neck. The sight of him slightly sweaty, chest heaving, is familiar and you too missed the thought that you’re the only one that can get him this way. You stroke up and down him while you give your mouth a break and watch his slick tip disappear into your palm and reappear as you slide back down. His tip is leaking now, the sticky liquid getting on your fingers and making them move easier on him.

You’re hit with the overwhelming urge to taste it on your tongue and as soon as you lean down to tongue at his slit, his heady taste overwhelming your senses. The moan that flows out of your mouth earns a similar one from his. Stray hairs fall into your face and he reaches up to brush them away for you, balling your hair up in his hand while you continue to lull your tongue around his head. A suck harsh causes him to tug on you, desperately trying to pull you off of him.

“Love, please,” he pleads when you continue to suckle on his tip. “M’not gonna last if yeh keep at that.”

You feel greedy. One taste of him and you want to take him over the edge with your tongue, feel the weight of his thick ropes spurting down your throat. But you know that’s not what he wants right now so you allow him to gently pull you off of him.

The second your mouth leaves him, he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. The taste of him on your tongue doesn’t deter him from the quick succession of kisses he gives you while tugging at your dress. “Why s’this still on?” he questions, hands bunching up the fabric at the bottom. “Take i’ off.”  You lift off your knees and spin around, pushing your hair to one side.

With a look over your shoulder, you ask, “Unzip me?” He’s eager to oblige, rising from his seat quickly. Hands skim your waist as they make their way up to the top of the zipper that runs along the back of the dress. His breath fans over your shoulder and he leans down to press a kiss to the skin there. As skilled fingers pinch the zipper to pull it down, you shudder at the trail of sloppy, uneven kisses he leaves across your shoulder and the base of your neck.

Even though his skin is smooth and soft running down your arms as he removes the straps, it doesn’t replace the empty feeling he leaves where they were on your waist. You feel like a brat, wanting him to be everywhere at once but at the moment, you’re craving his touch any and everywhere you can get it.  

Your heels come off when you step out of the dress, leaving you in just the flimsy lace underwear you’d worn underneath. His fingers dance down your body, exploring the newly exposed skin, and your skin tingles as they drop closer and closer to your pulsing center. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to slide inside the band of your underwear, the pressure of his hand pushing you back flush against his chest. He finds your soft nub, aching to be touched, and an involuntary moan radiates from you. His lips are back on your neck, sucking harshly as his fingers work slowly against your clit.

You want to scream, cry, anything, from the feeling of him teasing you so agonizingly and your fingers dig into the hand of his that’s resting on your stomach. The way your nails dig into his skin must pinch but he doesn’t react, just breathes heavily in your ear, mesmerized by the way you’re already falling apart in his arms.

When you finally can’t take it anymore, you turn around to find his mouth for a heated kiss. Moving back towards the bed, he steps out of his pants completely. His hands only leave your body when you yank his unbuttoned shirt down his arms to discard on the floor.

He falls back onto the bed, pulling you with him. Your legs land on either side of his and instantly, your hips grind down against his uncovered erection. With the only barrier between you the delicate material of your underwear, you revel in the rush of his skin directly pressed to yours. His hand comes to the nape of your neck to tug you in for a kiss that he uses as an opportunity to flip you onto your back.

In the new position, you miss the contact that grinding down on him granted you but he doesn’t leave you hanging for long. His lips drag down your jaw, dancing around the sensitive skin on your neck before nipping at your exposed nipple. His reward is the soft moan the escapes you and he repeats the action. While his mouth pays attention to your chest, his hand is back down at your center, rubbing over the cloth covering it.

The dampness of the fabric is evident and his eyes peer down at it. “You’re s’wet, angel,” he says, continuing the gentle circles that are starting to make your breathing uneven. “’S that…for me? Still for me?”

You moan as he puts more pressure on your clit through your underwear. “Barely even touched yeh,” he comments, body shifting to lie between your legs. His nose nuzzles your sensitive bud almost lovingly. “Wanna taste yeh so badly. Can I?”

“God, yes,” and you’re practically begging as he’s tugging your underwear down past your feet. Your legs spread with his help and his hands hold them open.

He’s taking a second to admire, a soft, “Look at yeh,” escaping his lips. His cheek is resting on your thigh, while his fingers stroke your slippery folds, feeling the wetness without any barrier. They run up and down your slit slowly and your body flushes with anticipation when his breath fans out across you. You know he’s just trying to reacquaint himself your body but his mouth is so close to where you need him and you’re getting impatient.

He wants to chuckle at the slight bucking of your hips but he doesn’t. With a gentle kiss to the plushy flesh of your thigh and eyes that peer up at you, he puts you out of your misery and licks a firm stroke up your slit. The feeling of his tongue finally on you sends goosebumps over your skin and you lose eye contact as your eyes slide closed.

He’s quick to make it to your clit, tongue working a steady rhythm against it while in an attempt to settle your jolting hips, his hands snake under your thighs to rest at your stomach. They’re strong and hold you in place and you reach down to tangle your fingers in them.

His tongue is moving in short, quick flits against your clit and though you’re squirming above him, he’s relentless. Your hands are grasping for anything they can get a hold of – the sheets, the pillow, his curly head between your legs. He doesn’t let up though, lapping his tongue in ways he knows still make your legs squeeze closed around him.

His hands are everywhere too. On your stomach, giving your hand a squeeze, palming your breast, gripping your thighs as if his life depends on it. You’re certain he’s going to suffocate down there with the way he’s diving in, his full face immersed in your wet heat and he’s looking up at you now, slowing down to give you long, slow licks that drive you crazy in a completely different way.

You’re starting to feel the slow burn in your stomach when his middle finger slides into you easily with how slick you are. He leans back, letting his digit slide all the way in, pressing repeatedly on that spot deep inside of you. Your back arches, your head digging back into the pillow and you can’t tell because you’re eyes are screwed shut but you bet he’s got that smirk on his face, soaking up every second of what he’s doing to you.

“Just like that,” you breathe out, even though you know he’s got no intention of stopping what he’s doing. Your chest is heaving with uneven breaths and if you weren’t so caught up in how good it felt, you’d be almost annoyed that he could still get you worked up with just one finger.

You can tell he’s thinking it too because he’s not doing much now, just pumping his finger into you and admiring the way your body’s reacting to him. His eyes are glued to you, watching every desperate clutch of the sheets and breathy moan of his name. The pressure in your tummy is growing and he’s starting to sense it too. “Harry I’m…” you trail off and he smirks, knowing exactly what you’re trying to finish.

“Yeh about to come, pet?” he murmurs, the hand not inside of you pressing back against your thigh as it begs to close. “Can yeh get there? Fo’ me? It’s been s’long. Want to watch you come.”

All you can do is nod because he’s added an extra finger that stretches you out just a bit. In an attempt to coax your finish closer, he attaches his lips back to your clit, sucking the bud firmly between his lips. The combination of his nimble fingers inside of you and his skilled mouth working your most sensitive nerves sends you over the edge quickly, chest panting and walls clenching down around him.

“Tha’s m’girl,” he murmurs. “Yeh are, aren’t yeh? Still mine?”

“Always been,” you mumble on instinct, still coming down from your high. At the moment, you would’ve agreed to anything he said but you do mean this. It didn’t matter how long you were apart from him. You’d always be his, and him yours.

He gives a smile before pressing a kiss into your thigh. Your hand is at the nape of his neck, desperate to tug on it to bring him back up to you, but the gentle trail of mouth up the slope of your body feels too good to stop. His lips plant kiss after kiss along the smooth skin of your stomach, taking his time to work up to your chest and the hollow of your collar bone.

It seems he’s never done in his mission to relearn as much of you as he can. You can’t be sure but it feels like he’s covered every square inch of your body. If you’re being honest, he could kiss everywhere ten times over and it still wouldn’t be enough for you.

As he moves up the slope of your body, his heavy length makes itself known when it brushes up against your thigh. His mouth finally finds yours again and between the slow, languid pace his tongue is keeping and the weight of him against your leg, your cunt aches for him inside of you.

Harry’s just as needy, rutting against your thigh and letting the sticky substance of the precome still leaking out of his tip help him glide across your skin. His moans reverberate in your body, his chest rumbling against yours.

He’s so close, so ready to be inside of you that you can practically feel him already but instead of giving you want you both so desperately need, he suddenly jerks away. A whine escapes when he lifts off of you, mumbling, “Gotta get a condom.” He’s rummaging around in his drawer and you stop yourself from wondering if any of them had been used in the last few months.

Tugging on his arm, you dissuade him, promising him you’re protected. “Don’t need it,” you moan, feeling his hand still in the drawer. “I took my pill. Promise.” The drawer remains open but he’s pulling back towards the bed again. His eyes search your face, deciphering what you’re really trying to tell him. “Haven’t been with anyone else, prom—”

Your reassurance is cut off with his mouth hotly pressing to yours. His body exudes relief when he sighs against your mouth. “Me either, love,” he promises. His thumb reaches out to stroke your cheek and his eyes are looking at you so intently you want to squirm. “Jus’ wanted you.”

Your heart swells at his admission that he had in fact not slept with any of the girls that tabloids had been so certain he had. He really was yours, no matter the circumstances.

Overcome with emotion and a sudden neediness for him, your hand reaches down to stroke his length. “Wan’ my cock, love?” he murmurs. You nod your head eagerly, lip pulled between your teeth. “Go on, then. Get what yeh wan’.” And his green light is all you need to bring him to your soaking entrance. He slides in easily, just as his fingers had, and the stretch you feel makes you bite your lip. It’s been a while since you felt the thickness of Harry inside of you and though it’s a feeling you’d never forget, it still is something to get used to.

His thrusts inside of you at first are slow while your walls adjust to the delicious stretch that his cock provides. You can tell he’s working hard to control himself, the pace so slow and deliberate, lip bit in concentration. Beads of sweat are already broken out against his hairline as he works hard to keep his thrusts even and controlled.

Your fingers are pinching half-moons in his biceps, legs hooking over his. “Faster,” you plead, quietly, knowing he’s desperate to drive into you and hit deep inside of you and you realize you are too. As his speed picks up, his face gets nestled in your neck, hot breath puffing out against your skin. His chest is pressing hard into yours, and it’s a bit uncomfortable the way your breasts are being squished, but you revel in the heavy feel of his body resting on yours.

The bed shakes with the vigor of his thrusting, knocking back against the wall in a rhythmic pattern. Your head leans back against the pillow as your body arches into him. He takes advantage of your position and sucks a mark into your neck. You aren’t his to mark anymore –or are you?—but you let him anyway. The harshness of his lips is soothed by a flick of his tongue and then he’s moving down to kiss your shoulder and your collar bone.

His hips slow as he presses deep inside of you, opting for small, pulsing thrusts that press exactly the spot that gets you panting and digging your nails into his back. Your stomach coils when you feel the brush of his tongue against your earlobe before he nips at it.

With his face buried in your neck, your lips are equal with his shoulder, pressing out kisses and tiny nicks when he hits you particularly deep. He surrounds you, not one part of your body not completely enveloped in his and the smell of his skin, now sticky with sweat, is intoxicating. You’re overwhelmed with how every one of your senses takes him in.

He’s thrusting fully now, pulling in and out so he can slide the entire length of him in and out of you. Your groan of pleasure is immediately followed by one of pain when his shoulder accidentally nudges you in the eye.

“Wha’?” he asks when you press back against his body.

You’re rubbing your eye when you respond, “Poked my eye with your shoulder.”

He pauses for a second, pressing kisses to your eye. “’M sorry,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, then your nose and any other area his shoulder could’ve offended. “Didn’ mean to.”

You assure him you’re fine, it’s fine, everything is fine and he should keep going but he still leans back to create some space. One of your legs is lifted, granting him a new angle that almost makes up for the loss of contact.

This position gives him more of a brace as he holds onto your leg and really pushes into you. He’s grabbing you by the nape of the neck, foreheads pressed together while he unceasingly pumps in and out of you. You try to hold his gaze but he seems incapable of stopping from his eyes sliding closed in pleasure, mouth hanging open though no sounds come out. And though he’s so relentless that your eyes almost want to slide shut as well, you keep them trained on the sight in front of you. Nothing was better than the fucked out look on his face as he drives into you and the knowledge that you’re the one that makes him feel that good.

You know he’s close by the way he picks up his pace, thrusts coming uneven as his fingers dig into your leg. “Kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges placing a sloppy kiss to lips as he grips your face. Personally, you don’t know if you have another orgasm in you but then you feel the rough pads of his fingers rubbing against your clit to get you there again.

It isn’t long before you’re running your hand up the nape of his neck to tug at the hairs there as your climax washes over you. He only thrusts a few more times after your walls squeezing down on him enough to coax his finish as well. His thick spurts land inside of you, though you’re not concern because you really are diligent about taking your pill.

His body collapses down to yours, face finding its way back to the crook of your neck. The two of you lie with sweaty bodies panting against each other for a while. Your fingers dance along his back, drawing patterns and shapes against the skin, smoothing over the marks and scratches your nails had etched. They then make their way up to his hair, scratching the scalp gently in the way he’d always liked. You figure there’s a fair chance he’s already fallen asleep because, as you remember, nothing puts him out quite like back drawings and head scratches but eventually he does move off of you. His body lands next to yours, chest heaving significantly less than a few minutes ago.

He looks over at you, an unreadable look in his eyes, and you know he’s looking to talk finally. Instead, a smirk spreads across his face as he pulls you to nestle on his chest. “Now, what did I tell you about reading those bloody gossip sites?”

[lucretiars]

David Berman: Honoring the Collective Void

In today’s world, through any medium you can write a eulogy. That is the magic of language; no matter the vehicle, if something is meaningful, there is no denying its impact. This is the way I felt when I read musician Kevin Morby’s Instagram post eulogizing the late great David Berman, former poet and songwriter of the Silver Jews and Purple Mountains. Morby writes, “David Berman one-liners are like verbal baseball cards. When you find yourself in the company of other Silver Jews fans you all wanna show off your favorite one. He’s been one of my secret handshakes over the past 16 years since discovering his work.” That same magic of language is something that Berman himself was a master of. A Berman-ism is at the same time instantly recognizable yet fascinatingly inventive. A completely refreshing way of seeing something we all internally experience. A deeply universal and profound observation of life disguised colloquial punch-line. No matter the channel, his fluidity, cleverness, and insight using words could forge some new association to a thought or a feeling that you thought was so deeply internal that is wasn’t able to be conveyed tangibly. In Berman’s absence, his words remain and waver potently through my headphones in my ears and on the page I graze my fingers across. And I think, is there a difference between the power of lyrics and the written word? As celebrated for his poetry as he was for his songwriting, Silver Jews was the initial and primary vehicle for Berman’s writing until his first and only book of poetry, Actual Air, was published by Open City Books in July 1999. After a decade of silence post-Silver Jews, Berman’s newest musical project, Purple Mountains, published an album just 3 months prior to his death in 2019. In his music, Berman’s distinctive baritone growling voice serves as an amplifier to his words etched against the background of melody. In his poetry, his words contain the ability to extend his experimental language further than the limits of a song. Through both channels, the writer is veiled behind the guise of the “speaker” or the “singer”. Both create worlds open to interpretation by the masses. Both can hold facets of yourself and both can be crafted with lies, dreams, and fiction. Born in 1991 wading between the grouped identifications of “post-Generation X” and “Millennial”, I was a guinea pig to the internet beginning at a fairly young age. I grew up online late enough that I didn’t have social media or a cell phone until high school, but early enough that I learned and adapted to the strange solace of screaming out into a collective void. I grew up in the emergence of the digital age early enough that when I hear a specific song, I still anticipate the opening chords of the next one on the album because I’d spun the CD over and over, but late enough that I only listened to music on tapes and vinyl for the experience of it, not the necessity. The Warehouse (a CD palace) was my church, and on some Sundays my mom would let me pick one out that I would later on be able to play on my very own boombox, sprawled on the carpet buried deep in the liner notes reading along the lyrics as they played. Words always meant something to me, and I found poetry in everything: in the comment section on songmeanings.com where anonymous users professed their love for a lost memory that the song was associated with, the comments section on Youtube videos where folks anonymously bonded over the gravity this music video had on their life, and the sprawling cacophony of chat rooms and IM exchanges expressing the mundane yet somewhat magical musings littered with typos and faces made with colons and parenthesis. The internet was there for you when nobody else was. It was a conduit to transform some sort of thought you had inside into words on a screen. Words that everybody else could read. When Berman died, that collective void of the internet erupted. Fans of Silver Jews and Actual Air alike joined forces shared their own Berman-isms on social media accounts, blogs, comments on Youtube videos, Reddit posts, etc. I had always heard that along with being a lyricist, Berman was a poet and had his own collection, and after finding myself beckoned through the screen of my laptop and immersed in the world of Berman’s words, I needed to get my hands on it. Amazon was selling books for $200 a pop. eBay was even more. And Drag City, the record label that produced the book, was sold out. On their website there was a button to select to put your name in for an order when they become available again, and though I was doubtful it would even work, I pressed it. Five months later, living in the same city that Drag City operates out of, the same city that Berman last occupied before he died, I receive notice that my book is on its way. Given my taste for always trying to find some meaningful intimacy in the written word, I held this email I received quite close to my heart. Hey there, loyal Drag City customer web 134064-5, We've actually lived up to our end of the bargain – your order has shipped! Keep in mind that all orders are shipped via USPS First Class or Media Mail, depending on weight, so they may take a few days to arrive and there's no tracking number. In our know-everything digital age, isn't it nice to get a surprise in the mail every once in a while? We think so and hope you'll agree. There was something about the candor and sweetness this message held that enveloped me in a wistful appreciation for my love of words and the power they convey. If I can find beauty in this 2-sentence email that was probably just mass-texted to hundreds of people, sandwiched between spam advertisements and bill notifications, I had the dawning realization that no matter the medium, language is hugely influential and the act of crafting it to deliver a feeling that once only lived inside is the raw and subtle beauty of existence. The difference between lyrics and poems is that through poetry, language is the instrument. In music, the words reverberate against a background of sound. Which is more vulnerable? Which is more exposed? Why did David Berman choose to publish the words he wrote on paper and the words he recorded through song? How do we compare the literary resonance between lyricism and poetry? No matter the vehicle, Berman was equally revered for both forms of work, who honored the righteousness of personal experience and was not afraid to expose despair and honesty through art. Through my dive into Berman’s work, I was thrilled to find hidden connections, especially ones that I couldn’t determine if they were purposeful or not. One particularly “deep-cut connection” I found was through the openings of Silver Jews albums The Natural Bridge and Purple Mountains: a slow, almost apprehensive “Well, I….” And “No, I….” (respectively). These articles prefacing the personal claims Berman gets ready to confess next almost serve to give both us and him a moment to prepare. The Natural Bridge kicks off with “How To Rent a Room”, a rumination on death, loss, and coping, and Berman conveys both unease and accepted reflection in “No I don't really want to die./I only want to die in your eyes.” Purple Mountains kicks off with “That’s Just the Way That I Feel”, a circular repetition of apathetic pleading. Berman sings in an almost comedic honesty, “Well, I don't like talkin' to myself./But someone's gotta say it, hell./I mean, things have not been going well./This time I think I finally fucked myself.” In addition to their trepidatious starts, another common aspect of the songs is the juxtaposition of a joyful, energetic melody and dark, pensive lyrics. Berman creates a tune so hypnotically catchy through the verses (including one of the most clever feats of wordplay I might have ever heard with “I've been forced to watch my foes enjoy ceaseless feasts of schadenfreude”) and slows us down in the hypnotic carousel of insatiability in the chorus, merely repeating: “The end of all wanting is all I’ve been wanting.” The want. How unbearable is it to want? We wake and we want, we rest and we want. We are overflowing with want. In addition to this voraciousness, another powerful aspect of “That’s Just The Way That I Feel” is the fact that these lyrics were the first words Berman gave us after a decade of silence. He illustrates his triumphant return of joyful self-hatred, quintessential honesty, self deprecation, and the confident lack of hope. Not everything has a happy ending. In a particularly notable YouTube video of one of the Silver Jews’ last shows, they jam through a standout song “Black and Brown Shoes” from the album, The Natural Bridge—a fan favorite that includes the palpable and dreamlike depictions of the views around us (“a jaded skyline of car keys”, and “the water looks like jewelry when it's coming out the spout”). Towards the finality of the piece, Berman slows the band, places two hands around the neck of the microphone and instead of continuing with the melody in his voice he reads the next lyric as if it is in fact a piece of poetry: “When I go downtown, I always wear a corduroy suit./Cause it's made of a hundred gutters that the rain can run right through.” After these words are spoken, the melody gradually begins to emerge once again, as Berman drawls the next and final lines in song. The break of song to highlight this almost absurd yet striking musing lets the audience absorb the gravity of the words. In “Pretty Eyes”, an introspective ballad that closes The Natural Bridge, a gentle guitar strums against the concluding verses: “I believe that stars are the headlights of angels/Driving from heaven to save us, to save us/Look in the sky/They're driving from heaven into our eyes/And final words are so hard to devise/I promise that I'll always remember your pretty eyes/Your pretty eyes.” Through an observation alluding to death, Berman illuminates the beauty in physical tangibility against the beauty in imagined personification. Heaven, a beacon of hope is observed against the permanence of memory in the subject’s eyes. Even if everything is lost and through the most delicate nature of fleeting time, that memory will remain. After Berman mutters the final line in “Pretty Eyes”, there is 43 seconds of gentle guitar strumming, almost allowing the listener to reflect on this closing observation. This instrumental decrescendo moans like a lullaby. This purposeful pocket of time in which no words are spoken almost acts as a space in which the listener can consciously do nothing. The song still holds us in its grasp, but we are given the opportunity to mediate on what’s been spoken through the absence of words. “Introduction II” begins the Silver Jews’ 1994 album Starlike Walker. Through slow and jagged guitar chords, Berman drones fragments of words and sentences almost inviting the listener into his psyche: “Hello, my friends/Hello, my friends/Come in, have a seat/Come on in my kitchen/My friends, take it easy”. After these drifting portions of thought, the music quiets and the final lines of the 1 minute song are sung in a juxtaposed conciseness: “Don’t you know that I never want this minute to end?/And then it ends.” This powerful reflection on the passing of time, introduced in such an intimate way, is a driving theme in many of Berman’s pieces. The poem “Classic Water”, which includes brief moments of anaphora and reminds me of Joe Brainard’s “I Remember”, reflects on the past in order to somehow solidify a lost memory into a tangibility. He writes, “I remember the night we camped out/And I heard her whisper, “Think of me as a place” from her sleeping bag/With the centaur print.” (Berman 4) Similarly in “Tableau Through Shattered Monocle”, after eight dense stanzas detailing a piece of architecture, the final line reverberates: “These words are meant to mark this day on earth.” (Berman 12) This remark serves to honor the virtue of personal experience—the power in documentation and creating a testimony of a life. Both convey this feeling of capturing the rawness of immediacy; the long-winded desire of marking a certain feeling or moment in a permanent way—making what has been lost somehow last. The final line of the poem “The Moon” acts as a portal through Berman’s process: “And the moon, I forgot to mention the moon.” (Berman 27) The lack of poetic intention in these words is apparent, yet the notion of needing to include that idea of the moon and the evident affect it had on the speaker further conveys the tenderness in capturing emotion and transitory feeling. There is power in observation and inspiration even in the mundane or ordinary. We cradle the things that we have experienced and use them as evidence that we have lived a meaningful life. In a similar notion of using writing as a vehicle to document and possibly further understand the world around us and how the past has influenced us, Berman’s work frequently reflects on the past versus the present, transcending time in order to unearth the absence or garnering of growth. In “Trains Across the Sea” on the Silver Jews’ Starlite Walker, Berman sings “Half-hours on earth/What are they worth?/I don’t know/In 27 years/I drunk 50000 beers/And they just wash within me/Like the sea into a pier.” Berman converses with himself, admitting a loss of the grasp of how time passes and using the organic image of something so cyclical in nature—the incessant serenity of crashing waves—to juxtapose against the perpetuation of habit. Tal Rosenberg remarks in The Fader about this stanza, “There’s the setup, the mechanical pleasure of routine beer drinking, and then the unexpected curve — the situation’s cinematic and symbolic equivalent, an image that beautifully corresponds to the same elegant manner of incremental decay.” In a similar notion of exposing honestly in the mundane and the contemplations of personal development through time, the poem “The Charm of 5:30” closes with the stanza: “In fact, I’ll bet you something./Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I’ll bet you/I’m remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,/My favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers/Of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench./I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up/With a catcher’s mask hanging from his belt and how I said/great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you,/And how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his/Contacts and said, wonderful, how are you.” (Berman 44) In the perfected brevity of “Somewhere in the future I am remembering today” we succumb to the idea of our past selves, drifting in memory on loop in our heads—forever. Every splice of our lives is packaged into a pocket of our brains—and ranging from the absolute thrill to the dreadfully ordinary, the things that we experience serve to influence the way our present and future world is shaped. In addition to the contrast between the aural word and the written word, therein lies even a deeper contrast in experience through both of Berman’s mediums of work. The energetic connection through live performance and the detached, yet intimate connection through solitary listening. The act of presently hearing a reading performed without the ability to see the words on paper and the act of reading the work alone, able to analyze and study the words on paper. What is more significant? What hits you deeper? What experience feels more comfortable, and what experience feels more as if you’ve bore witness to something revelatory? In her article “Measuring the Immeasurable”, Sarah Rothenberg discusses the transformation of “active listening”, comparing the capacity of digesting music before and after the technologic revolution. Before recorded sound became a staple in our daily lives, she explains that music was only experienced two different ways: “One made it oneself or one was in a room where someone else was making it.” She goes on to illustrate an anecdote about a young music lover in the nineteenth century who hears of Beethoven’s newest symphony. After months of waiting, the piano reduction is received through mail, and she hastily stumbles through the piece, attempting to recreate whatever it is that Beethoven has just released to the world. Many months after that, she takes a four-hour journey into Vienna to hear the piece played by a professional orchestra for the first time. Rothenberg presses, “You do not know when, or if, you will hear this work again. How do you listen?” Berman held the capacity to create a realm of “active listening” whether the words were divulged live or not. The solitary experience and the collective experience were similarly an act of power. He reaches with a certain word or turn of phrase and it acts as a gentle tap on the shoulder, urging us to wake up! Look at the world around you! Wade in the reality of your life, because we are all experiencing it. The reverberation of his words by themselves are enough to create a resounding experience, but the haunting dynamic of this thought is the fact that Berman will not be able to perform live in front of us, ever again. His words ring, deafening, into the void forever. We know that we will never hear new work again. How do we listen? As Morby wrote on Instagram after his death, Berman’s words are a form of human connection. The collective celebrating of his work is a joyful and vulnerable experience, and that power of resonance, with anybody, about anything, is reverberating. Even sitting at my laptop last night as I put the final touches on this document, wishing I was a half-drunk hero on a barstool with a like-minded soul but instead, was I a half-drunk sap listening to the Silver Jews, I felt closer to these words I have been so obsessed with trying to understand over the past month. Berman paved the way for acceptance of the candid displeasure of the world; the honest beseeching of meaning; somewhere that the meandering search for identity can float without pressure to comfortably land. From his words, I’ve learned that that very discomfort of “not-understanding “can be the tarmac for our emotions. The process of coming to terms with the things that we witness and feel is just as important as the experiences themselves. As the man himself said, “final words are so hard to devise”. So with that, I salute a cheers to David Berman. Thank you for allowing the space to dismantle the fear of unknowing.

[justemotionalabusethings]

{Before I begin this is really heavy. I’m talking suicide and shit man its intense}

Hi! My story is a long and sort of confusing one. I guess we begin at my first sister’s birth.

My father left me when I was really young. He wasn’t ready to be a father and fled for his life. Leaving me with just my grandparents and my mother.

After a while a new man was introduced into my life to fulfill this father role I needed. I was really shy with him until he got me a toy train for Christmas!

I don’t remember much of my childhood (which could be due to csa since signs are coming up here and there) but I remember a lot changed after my first little sister was born.

She was his biological daughter so I guess that meant there was no more room for me and I was only baggage in the marriage. He would taunt me day after day. He’d compare me to dogs and laugh when I ran away crying. He abused all the pets I had. My cat, my dog, and my hamsters. He watched scary movies with me and would then only fuel my nightmares. He’d make me clean everything and then get upset when I got irritated. He’d let me pretty much starve if I didn’t eat what he made or terrify me by saying someone was going to hurt me. To this day I can’t look at Hamburger Helper or Multigrain Cheerios.

At night I was terrified that he would hurt my mother because of his drinking problem. I would always be awake for some reason and hear them fighting about it.

As my family grew, it got to the point where I didn’t feel accepted. Where I’d look into the bedroom and see his daughters huddled around a father that loved them with a wife that he loved. I felt like I could run away and no one would miss me. Like they’d be happier.

During that time I was also being horribly bullied at school. It seemed like no matter what we did or the school did it wouldn’t stop. I got horrible depressed and was even suicidal.

His abuse ended when he made a wrong move and got arrested, effectively getting himself kicked out for good.

I was a pretty happy child after he left. The only thing that scared me then was middle school.

And I was in no way prepared for it.

In middle school I met a girl. We did one of the usual ice breakers in class. Seeing as pretty much everyone from my elementary school had bullied me I asked her about helping me find my way. We soon clicked and were spending a lot of time together because our schedules were almost identical. The only difference in our 9 period schedule was the 2 electives.

Everything was fine I believe. I made friends with her and I loved her more than words could say. She taught me how to be a rebel and how to break rules and do what you want. How not to let feelings hold you back but make them let you go.

Although everything changed in the January of 7th grade.

My mom had never wanted to give me a phone until I was sixteen so I wasn’t on any social media or anything. I pretty much just spent all my time reading.

But my friend got me to convince my mom to get Skype. Once there I was able to talk to my friends whenever I wanted.

From there we started to world build and role play.

After that I remember the abuse really started happening and to this day I’m not sure why.

She used me as a slave basically (funny bc when I tell people that they say that’s wrong bc she’s black and I’m white. Which is wrong bc I’m mixed aka black and white). It began with her just asking me to hold a few things. Then it quickly escalated to everyday I was forced to hold her shit on top of my own. Her lunchbox, her binder and my binder, her book bag and my book bag, and her lunchbox all up the stairs to our lockers which were right next to each other’s. Eventually she started asking our mutual friend to hold my stuff and they refused to let me do that, the sweet thing.

She humiliated me a lot by saying stuff or screaming wrong stuff about me. I have a horrible trigger that I can’t avoid because of her. Everyday if I did something wrong or something she didn’t like, or if I looked annoying I guess, she’d call me a failure. Everyday. And now I can’t escape that word. It sucks man.

She hurt me a lot too. She’d pinch me and I have a very specific memory of her pinching the back of my neck and when I said it hurt she said: “Well it’s not supposed to feel like sunshine so keep smiling.”

I was afraid of her. So afraid of my best friend. God my soul friend. I hate the word soul mate because she was always gushing about how we were soul friends and meant to be together and how much she loved me. It fucks me up some days.

I never knew what I’d encounter any day. After a while I stopped going to after-school activities because she would get pissed at me if I went to them instead of being online talking to her. My teachers started to look down on me for that. Thinking I was not trustworthy or saying I’d show up and then not. But it wasn’t my fault. I was only scared I’d get hurt.

I used to be glad I didn’t kill myself in elementary school because I was happy to be with her. But I feel like it would’ve been easier to end everything there.

I felt like she liked my mutual friend so much better and it brought me back to my step father loving my half sister more than me.

It even got to the point where I felt like she was trying to drive this friend away from me. She’d tell them things that I didn’t do and I’d be too scared to speak up for myself.

I was too scared to get anything to make myself look and feel nicer. I got my nails done one time since my family noticed I was getting sad again but the next day at school she insulted me. She said the exact words; “Why would you get something your friend wouldn’t like?” I think that’s when I realized it was abuse too. Why would someone who loves you say that?

She never for cared me or my problems either so I went silent. I didn’t come to her at all because there was no point in it. No point in being ignored.

I used to call myself a servant but even that was too much of a high status for her. She began throwing her trash at me and forcing me to pick it up or I’d get pinched.

Even calling her seemed like a chore for her. She’d make me promise to call her and once I did she wouldn’t pay attention at all. She’d listen to music or be on some social media. She knew it was hard for me to call because my mom wouldn’t let me call after school. Yet even when we were away from each other she mistreated me. She’d curse at me and insult me under her breath and say ‘good bitch’ when I told her I heard it. But of course. It was always from character to character.

I slipped further and further into the depression (funny because this only happened until near the end of 7th grade and all started in January). I stopped telling my other friend about anything. And I didn’t try to leave the friendship with her because I didn’t want to leave our mutual friend.

I couldn’t even do my schoolwork unless she was right there with me. But only to distract me. I remember I had to go get a project in for health so I wouldn’t fail the course and she almost stopped me from going because she didn’t have a library pass. I ended up going and getting it in but I later found (Thanks to a nice smack on the back of the head and multiple pinches throughout a 45 minute class) that she couldn’t go and was mad. Even though I told her I had to get the project in.

This went on until June. I finally broke down after a horrible day with her. It all started with a simple joke. I was used to her pointing it out when I made typos or spelled something wrong. On that day she spelled something wrong and I jokingly pointed it out. She got pissy and I quickly apologized but afterwards she wanted a hug. I didn’t want to give her one because well, I was having problems, and didn’t feel comfortable hugging. She got mad and when into his whole thing about how: “You have to do what your friend wants you to do even if it makes you uncomfortable.” Which is so messed up…

But at lunch she began getting physical and pinching me and digging her nails into me and kicking me under the table until I finally decided that I’d tell her.

She dragged me outside and I embarrassedly explained that I was on my period and didn’t want to hug anyone. She got really mad and literally beat me up right there in broad daylight in the ‘playground’ more like tiny grass area of the school! (Spoiler Alert: I don’t think the school ever believed me because no one came forward to say they had seen the action. Most likely because she scares everyone.)

I broke down in the bathroom and told my mom and grandmother and they contacted the school. It was a messy process and she hated me afterwards but I was away.

Or… so I thought.

During those months I had started cutting. I cut to make it go away.

So I was online and somehow came across a call out post for that very friend.

I was appalled at what I saw as it mentioned how she caused a minor to relapse into self harm. I was horrified and scared that somehow, probably by her bragging or lying, someone found out I had been cutting.

I came into contact to tell her off but I soon fell back into her trap.

It wasn’t as bad I’d say but she still did damage. She lied to my new friends online and told them that I had saved her pictures, I was coping her accent, and basically stalking her just because I told this abusive friend that I had a crush on her.

The crush cut contact and it killed me considering I was working through my feelings for other girls at the time and none of that was true.

At school she was tolerable but online not at all. She’d vague about me and insult me yet put on a sweet face. And then she’d tell our mutual friends all this fake shit about me.

My guardians went to the school and they were mad at me for going back but they don’t understand. She was my first friend in a long time. I couldn’t leave especially when I felt so guilty.

I truly got away and moved to high-school. I found out that I most likely have bpd and my fp is that mutual friend who decided to stay friends with me after my abusive friend told them off for helping me through my suicidal feelings.

I developed a really big crush on them and right now we’re really close friends and I love them so much for everything they do for me. They’re really adorable too. The sweetest and cutest nugget.

Of course I wish I could end the story like that, gushing about my fp, but it doesn’t end there folks! Because I’ve noticed over the summer before the beginning of ninth grade, which was last summer, that my mom is abusive.

I could go on and on about how’s she’s an asshole. She fits the criteria for emotional abuse almost perfectly with some physical thrown in. I would talk about but as I’m not the victim, and only a victim of child endangerment from being in the same home as her, I don’t feel like it’s my place to share my feelings. Although it does affect me a lot to be here.

I’m still stuck in this abusive home. My first therapist said I show signs of ptsd during our first meeting lol. But I probably have c-ptsd. I have BPD, ADHD and I’m hypersexual to sex repulsed on the constant. Oh yeah I have psychosis too which is acting up. Not to mention I’m 15 and struggling to find my identity. Am I a boy or girl? Do I like girls or not? I do not know.

I guess you can see why abuse is my life story. I have no story beside it. Only abuse and that one sexual harassment issue.

Sometimes I want to die, and sometimes I want a better life. I don’t have a therapist or psychiatrist since I moved which was hard because I LOVED my therapist. I trusted her so much that I was going to open up to her before.

I still struggle with feelings of guilt and such and some days it’s so hard to keep going I don’t find a point. But when I’m with my fp for example I feel more alive than ever. I feel like I can do anything.

I want to thank everyone who reads this and feel free to shoot me a message or something.

Just know that I believe in you. We’re all scarred and scared here. We all have bandaid’s holding together our pieces of broken glass. And one day… those pieces will start to fuse together again and our sharp edges will dull. We’ll be safe, happy and grateful we got through it.

To anyone stuck in a abusive relationship pls tell someone, or call someone. Even if they can’t help you like CPS or something let it out. Don’t bottle it in because it’ll only hurt more.

If I can’t end my story with a happy ending, I hope at least the ending of one of yours does. Because you all deserve a happy ending.