#it sounds so cheesy but I actually wake up excited every single morning

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2

Craft Projects and Failed Bonding

Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.

Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.

Word Count: 4,533

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22

Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!

“Virgil, wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgil’s bed once the coast was clear. He hadn’t been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.

Though, speaking of his backpack…he had no idea where to put it. It wasn’t safe in Virgil’s room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Roman’s bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but that’s a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didn’t want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They weren’t allowed to know that.

Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgil’s bed. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it’d work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be the first kid to arrive.

The prayer wasn’t enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. “Morning, kiddo! How’d you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!”

Don’t let him find out you weren’t in your room. “Oh, these are my pajamas, I haven’t gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.”

Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. “…Do you not have real pajamas, kiddo?”

“No. I like sweatpants better.”

Patton didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time. 

Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. “Virgil, did you sleep last night? You look…a bit rough, to put it lightly.”

Virgil grunted. “I had to clean.”

Patton sighed. “Kiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?”

Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. “Virgil,” Patton chastised, “No coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but you’re too young for coffee.”

Logan raised his hand. “May I have some?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

“What kinda drink do you want, Roman?” Patton asked. “And don’t say coffee.”

Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. “I’ll take milk, then.”

Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.

Holy fuck, Roman hadn’t had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.

Patton laughed when he noticed Roman’s reaction. “Taste good, kiddo?”

Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. “Good! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I haven’t looked back since!”

Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. He’d finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasn’t looking.

Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasn’t even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgil’s room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.

Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. “So, Roman,” he said, “How about you and I go to the store today?”

Roman froze. “…Why?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!”

“Wait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!”

Patton seemed apologetic. “In this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually I’d let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think it’d be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.”

You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Patton interrupted Roman’s internal scheming. “Do you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?”

Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. “Binders, pencils, folders, notebooks…I only have a backpack, really.”

“We definitely need to stop by the store then! And while we’re there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!”

Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and he’ll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.

They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a while…

“…We can go.” Roman said. Patton’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.

“Great! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, you’ll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.”

Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.

Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.

“What.” Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.

“I only need to grab my bag, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuggin’ take it.” Virgil snapped.

Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.

Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by “cleaning”.

The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Roman’s only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgil’s room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.

Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.

There’s no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.

Virgil

Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasn’t a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasn’t possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.

He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.

He’d just…have to find some other place to sleep until then.

Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Patton’s attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Camera or not, he’d have to find a way to pay Virgil back.

***

“Roman, what’s your favorite color?”

Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. “Uh…red.”

“Perfect! They’ve got lots of reds!” Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. “Though, wait, let me check the supplies website…I don’t wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multiple…”

Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.

He’d have to search the house for hiding spots later.

“So,” Patton eventually said, “It doesn’t say exactly, so I’ll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. What’s your second favorite color?”

Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. “Purple.”

Patton smiled. “That’s Virgil’s favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So let’s look at the pencil cases now!” Patton caught a glimpse of Roman’s pale face and his smile dropped. “…Are you okay, kiddo?”

Roman nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didn’t trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. “Are you sure?”

Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, let’s just get this over with already.

Patton’s head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Roman’s direction. “Say, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? I’ll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!”

Roman glanced at Patton’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.

Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filter’s bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands weren’t shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked. That’s all Roman could really ask for.

He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldn’t feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.

Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.

Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.

Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plants…wait! Roman’s eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!

Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!

Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasn’t a hardware store there wasn’t much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.

Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!

“There you are, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. “I noticed you left the other aisle and I didn’t know where to find you.”

Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. “Sorry, I got bored…but I found something I want for my room!”

“You did? What is it, kiddo?”

Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “…Curtain rods?”

“Yes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?”

Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, kiddo…it sounds like a cool project! But you’d have to install them into the roof, and I’m not very good with a drill!”

“I can do it!” Roman begged, “I’ve installed lots of home stuff before, and I’m really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise I’ll fix any holes, or I’ll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything that’s broken, just…please? Can I try?”

Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Roman’s eyes and sighed. “…You can try, kiddo. Just…don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work, okay?”

“I won’t be! Promise!” Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. “Now, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!”

Patton seemed like his head was spinning. “I’ll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.”

And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Roman’s liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Roman’s vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.

With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesn’t matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He won’t be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he won’t realize his mistake in letting me do this until it’s too late.

Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. I’m a genius.

The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didn’t even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.

“Kiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?” Patton yelled once he entered the house.

“I will later!” Roman answered. He had work to do.

The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Roman’s skill of how fast he could hand sew.

He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. “Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s lunch time, kiddo,” Patton answered, “I called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?”

No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. “In a minute.”

“Roman, it’s been a while already. A little break won’t hurt.”

“I will in a minute!” It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.

Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. “I’m coming!”

“Roman, can you open the door?”

Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! “…Why?”

“I’ve got your lunch for you.”

Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.

Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. “I had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while you’re working.”

Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

No. No, you can’t. You never can, ever. “…Sure.”

Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at what’s inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.

“You like it?”

Roman nodded. “Never had this before.”

“It’s a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.” Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. “What are you doing now for your canopy bed?”

“I was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. I’ve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.”

“Sounds cool! Do you need any help?”

Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he won’t be angry. “Do you know how to sew?”

“I know how to repair tears. That’s it.”

Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. “Take the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.”

“You’re very good at hand stuff!” Patton complimented. A shiver went up Roman’s spine.

“…Yes.”

From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the  drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.” Patton joked.

Roman shrugged. “You won’t be able to see it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you gonna decorate the sheets once you’ve hung them up?”

“Yes, it’s easier that way. And I can plan it out.”

“Any reason why you chose crowns and stars?”

Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. “I like crowns. And stars.”

“Logan loves stars.” Patton really hated silence, apparently. “I don’t know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Logan’s is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”

“I’ve only seen Virgil’s room.”

“Oh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!”

Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. “How many of the sheets have you finished?”

“Oh, I’m still on the first one. I’m learning though!”

Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. “You’re doing that very fast, kiddo!”

Roman shrugged. “I’ve done it a lot.”

“What do you usually sew for?”

“Clothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.”

Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. “Did…did you enjoy that time with your mom?”

“I enjoyed all my time with her.” Roman paused. “Well. Most times.”

Patton swallowed. “Most times?”

“Her and I were really close, if that’s what you're asking.” Roman’s hands sped up as he sewed. “She would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.”

Patton’s voice grew serious. “Well…I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo.”

“She’s not dead.”

“I’m still sorry you lost her.” Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. “But you said you can bake?”

Roman nodded. “I bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.”

“We should make some tomorrow, then!”

Roman tensed. “Maybe.”

Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Patton’s to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.

“Well, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.” Patton eventually said, “Tell me how the end project turns out, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. Finally, he’s leaving. “Close the door when you leave.”

Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.

“Yes! I did it! I did it!” Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, he’d been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.

Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.

 Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasn’t more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.

 Finally.

[smoochkooks]

—hymne a l’amour (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst

⟶ word count: 5.5k

⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.

⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents

this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx

Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.

Overwhelming.

(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)

Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.  

A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.

It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.

You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.  

But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.  

It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.

Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.

Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.  

When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.

(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)

“Babe, I’m home!”

You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”

He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.

“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.

In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good  

(As if they don’t already know.)

See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.

“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.

He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”  

You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.

It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.  

“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.

“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.

So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.  

“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.  

You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.  

When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.  

Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.

In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.  

You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.

You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.

Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.

But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.

It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.

Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.

Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.

During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.  

kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove

They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.

But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.

Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.  

Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.  

(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)

An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.  

You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.

“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.  

You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”  

She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.

It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.  

Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.

The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.  

When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.

Never, in your entire life, had you thought  you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.  

(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)

He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.

“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.

It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.

“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.  

(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)

Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)  

“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.  

But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.

“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.

“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”

“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.

“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.

“I wasn't!” you protest.

“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”  

This stupid brat.

You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.  

Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.

When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.

You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.

“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”

You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”  

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.

You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.  

“Fine.” he mutters and heads to the bedroom.

When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.

“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”  

You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”  

Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”

The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”

Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.

(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)

“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”  

You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”  

He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”  

“That is, in fact, not true.”  

You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.  

“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”  

Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”  

Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.  

There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”  

You nod. “Please, touch me.”  

“Try again.”  

So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.  

You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.  

Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”  

“Good girl.”  

He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.  

He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.  

Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.

“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.  

Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.  

Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”  

You nod. “Yes, sir.”  

He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.  

“Take off my pants.”  

You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.  

“Now my underwear.”  

You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.  

Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”  

Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.  

You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.  

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”  

The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.  

He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.  

“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”  

You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.  

Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”  

Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”  

He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.  

You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.  

“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.  

You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.  

Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.  

“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.  

“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”  

“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”

“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”  

You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.  

“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”  

You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”  

“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.  

“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.  

You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”

Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”  

You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.  

He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”  

He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.  

(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)

Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.

Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.

He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”

He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.  

Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.

Because you love him. And that's all that matters.

[pies-writes-and-more]

I hate that I love you p. 13

13. I hate you

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Epilogue 

Warnings: annoyingly persistent dude shows up this time, but not for long so don’t worry! probably some swearing too, and a first time writer’s SMAU so might be awful lol

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

A/N: how are we already done this fic omg... i won’t lie to yall, I finished the majority of the chapters within a few days cause I was so excited to write haha. But thank you so much for everyone who has kept up with this series and has interacted with me about it! I love interactions so never feel like you can’t interact okay? :) 

Anyways! Onto the story! More written things this time cause you know, we can’t have a big finale and a confession that needs to be said over a text (or at least i don’t personally like text confessions so here we are lol) Enjoy :)

Tsukishima groaned internally as he thought about what to type next. This was the moment he had been waiting for all week. You were finally talking to him, even if it was over text. He didn’t want to mess this up and have your name never pop up in his notifs again. But what would he even say? 

He wasn’t even really sure what happened, how he ended up here waiting for the nurse to bring him an ice pack. He knew the gist of it but the details were still a tad hazy.

“Doesn’t matter how much she rejects me! I’m going to keep trying! Girls like that, you know. If you start slacking off, she’ll just start ignoring you!” The guy had practically yelled across the courtyard in Tsukishima’s direction. It wasn’t that it really pissed him all that much off. It was more the way the guy was talking about you that got under Tsukishima’s skin. “She’s just so beautiful and so smart, she’d make the perfect girl to have on my arm! I don’t care how many times she says no, Y/N’ll be mine eventually!”

Before Tsukishima even knew it, he had a fistful of the guy’s shirt in his hand, glaring down at him, “Stop talking about her like she’s some sort of prize. Besides, how old are you? Even a toddler can understand what NO means.”

Maybe Noya and Tanaka had been passing through and Yamaguchi had called for their help, or maybe they just decided to jump in, but before he knew it, Tsukishima felt himself fall back. Noya and Tanaka had both thrown him aside (neither of them meaning to, they just had a lot of adrenaline and wanted to get up in front). Even though Tsukishima told Y/N he didn’t really hit his head, he could remember the pain surging through his skull. His head was killing him.

Did he black out? Or was he just missing pieces? Tsukishima thought back to the moment and frowned. All he could really remember was the pain and then suddenly, you were crouched next to him with that worried look in your eyes. Honestly, he thought he was dreaming because you were sitting there right next to him, holding his hand and touching his face. 

“Tsukki, are you okay?” You had asked him, helping him sit up. He felt his cheeks flush in that moment, realizing what had just happened. Tanaka and Noya were still yelling at the guy, not even realizing they had practically thrown Tsukishima across the courtyard. 

“OH SO YOU THINK YOU CAN TREAT GIRLS LIKE SHIT HMMM???” Tanaka had screamed.

“IF YOU SO MUCH AS LOOK IN Y/N’S DIRECTION WE WILL COME AFTER YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW THE POWER OF SECOND YEARS?” Noya had added in, the two of them making the best intimidating faces they could manage.

“We should get you to the nurse’s office,” you had told him and before he knew it here he was. He could remember leaning against you as the two of you walked but other than that, it was all a blur.

“Here’s an ice pack, try to rest okay? No volleyball for at least a few days too,” the nurse was telling him and he just nodded. He hadn’t even gotten another word typed out before she had come back and now he was going to have to face you without really knowing what to say.

“So?” You looked up at him in anticipation and Tsukishima wasn’t really sure what you were asking about - his last text or his head.

“I’m fine,” he stated quietly, holding the ice to his head. “I don’t think I have a concussion but I can’t play for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled nervously, eyes darting away from his. This had been because of you. You felt the guilt fill you up - if you had just gotten the guy to leave you alone in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you should’ve done what Bokuto and the others told you to do and talk to the school’s administration about it. But it seemed like such a trivial thing to complain about.

“Oi,” Tsukishima interrupted your thoughts, nudging you. He could see that guilt written all over your face. “Stop it. It’s not like you hit me or anything.”

“Yeah well, but it’s not like I didn’t want to,” you huffed, frowning up at him. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, both of you waiting for the other to bring up the topic of anticipation. “So... are you going to explain your last text?” You finally asked, a ball of nerves sitting in your stomach. 

Tsukishima bit on his inner cheek, thinking about all the things he had wanted to say to you for the past week. “I’m bad with words when it comes to how I’m feeling,” he stated quietly. “I’m good with facts. I know for a fact that there are so many things about you that I hate.”

Wow great start to the conversation, you thought to yourself, your heart falling a bit. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a week and this is how he wanted to do things?

“Let me finish,” he grumbled, seeing the discomfort in your eyes. “I hate how you click your pen when you’re nervous for a test, I hate that you doodle on my notes in class or that you draw smiley faces on my hand when I’m not paying attention. I hate that you text me at 3 in the morning to ask me questions about the homework or just to ask me how I am. I hate the fact that you refuse to put your books back in your bag and that you’ll just carry them in your arms because we both know you’re clumsy and that you’ll end up dropping something. I hate that you’re always the loudest person during my matches, I hate that I can pick you out of a crowd and that when I can’t see you I get worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a little as he continued, his eyes now starting to avoid yours. 

“I hate that you get along with all my teammates and I hate that they make you smile and laugh. I hate that you and Bokuto are good friends and that he makes you happy. I hate everything about you because everything you do just makes me like you more.”

You blink in confusion... was this.. supposed to be some sort of twisted confession?

“I hate that you were so childish that you ignored me for a whole week for being an asshole and that it’s been the most miserable week of my life. I hate that I heard your voicemail more times than your actual voice this week because you wouldn’t pick up the phone. I hate seeing that you hadn’t sent me a text message back, I hate that I wake up at 3 in the morning just in case you reached out to me. I hate that there were no smiley faces on my arm and no doodles on my notes, I hate that I wasn’t able to help you pick up your books or study with you. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you from the time that I wake up, to the time I go to bed, I hate that you’re in my dreams every single night and I hate that no matter how many times I’ve dreamt about saying these things, it’s never the way that you deserve. I hate that you’re effortlessly perfect and that every guy who walks by you knows it too,” Tsukishima’s hands balled into fists as he thought about it all, scoffing a little at himself. 

How desperate, he thought to himself. He hated how absolutely cheesy he sounded. But he couldn’t stop now. “I hate... I hate everything about you because everything you do just makes me fall harder for you. I hate that I love you, Y/N because no matter how much I want to hate you, I just can’t.”

Time must’ve stopped right then and there. Or else that’s what it felt like. Tsukishima had finally said the words that you were waiting for the whole time you’d known him. Tsukishima... loved you? Everything you felt was... mutual?

Maybe time hadn’t stopped at all and you were just staring at him in complete shock, because Tsukishima was shifting awkward in the empty hall the two of you were in, waiting for some sort of reply out of you. “O-Oh!” He recovered quickly, his whole face turning red, feeling like it was you waiting for him to say something else. “A-And I’m sorry. For being an ass.” His eyes dropped to the ground, holding his head in shame, “I know I was being a dick about Bokuto. And after the first game you came to. I thought that the whole jersey thing was going to make you realize how I felt but you just thought it was to freak out your stalker and...”

“I only thought that cause when you gave me your jacket, you told me it was for the plan,” you interrupted quickly, biting on your lip nervously. “I didn’t... I didn’t want to believe that you would really give me your jersey cause that would mean that everything Yamaguchi said was true.”

Tsukishima looked at you for a moment, a small scowl on his lips, “What did Yamaguchi say?”

A small smile started to play on your lips, “That Tsukishima Kei had a big fat crush on me. Who knew?” You couldn’t help but giggle, watching as this tall glaring bean pole started to go pink with embarrassment. There was such a relief off of your shoulders, knowing that he was admitting how he was feeling and apologizing. 

“S-So you knew?”

“Of course not,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I figured Yamaguchi just told me that because he was encouraging my crush on you!” The words slipped from your lips before you could slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening as you look up at him.

There was that stupid smirk on his lips, growing bigger as he tilted his chin up in pride, “So Y/N Y/L/N has a crush on me huh?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes a little in embarrassment, “Pfft. What? Me? No way.”

Tsukishima smirked, catching your chin in his fingers and forcing you to look at him, “Go out with me,” he demanded softly, pressing his forehead against yours gently. “For real this time.”

Your whole body was going hot with how he was looking at you, the soft but teasing look in his eyes was driving you insane. You hadn’t ever seen him look at you like this before, “O-Okay,” you mumbled quickly and Tsukishima smiled. A real genuine giddy sort of smile.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, you shove his shoulder gently and pull away, walking towards the exit, “But if you’re ever that much of an ass to me ever again, I’m never talking to you again!” You yell over your shoulder, trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t just leaping out of your chest. 

It didn’t take long for Tsukishima’s long legs to catch up with you, casually opening the hallway doors for you, “Fine.”

“Don’t think you confessing to me makes up for anything, I’m still mad at you.”

“What? Why! I said I was sorry! I thought you said it was ice cream or words! And I apologized!” His scowl was evident, even though his heart was fluttering. Everything he wanted, it was finally happening. 

“Well you were a real asshole so you’re going to need at least words AND ice cream.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you loveeee me.”

“Maybe.”

“Just wait till Yamaguchi finds out your whole confession was about you hating me,” you mused as the two of you walked and Tsukishima groaned a little. With how sassy Yamaguchi was getting, he was never going to hear the end of it.

“I will literally buy you any kind of ice cream you want, just don’t tell him,” Tsukishima mumbled, not wanting to admit how embarrassed he would be if his best friend scolded him over his confession.

“No way,” you laugh, shaking your head with a huge smile. “Tsukishima Kei finally confessed to me and I need Yamaguchi to know that he did it in a very Tsukishima way.”

The blond boy just groaned but he swiftly grabbed your hand and stuffed it in his pocket with his own. You tried not to seem so surprised and quickly started looking in every direction but his, not wanting him to notice how nervous you were getting every time his thumb would slowly make a circle along your skin. The two of you walked back to your friends, chatting away the tension that had been so thick before, as if it was a totally normal day for you. As if both of you weren’t thinking I’m the luckiest person alive.

Taglist (Let me know if you’d like to be added to my permanent Haikyuu tag :) Thank you so much for all the love everyone!)

@random-fandom-girl-24 @intergalactic-mango @celestaire @lucyheartfilias-wife @owlnymph @lucyrocks86 @pinkhairedsapphic @mariachiii @aurumk @sana-li @mirikusashes @earphonekiyouka @why-000 @devilkittymusic @420-uwu @scphiredrafts @fantasycantasy @its-the-aerieljeane @laninasinnombre @trashy-simp @thisnoodlewritesao3 @darling-daydreaming @yourmajestythegreatest @so-lo-stuff @ibimyeon @satan-ruler-of-hells @ahiae @kpopandstarwarswhynot @imnisneedshercoffee @ramen-maker @chelly-ilysmiwdfy @animeanxiety @kaylig02 @upwardscomma @jeppiet @simplyyyy @ashtheticals @calumsfringe @kac-chowsballs @dreamsandregrets @flamingosis @loving-unicorns106 @darkvadeeer @mykuronekome​

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface. 

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion. 

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan. 

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way. 

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness. 

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound. 

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up." 

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though." 

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong. 

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up." 

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives. 

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over." 

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly. 

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners. 

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort. 

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day. 

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot. 

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated. 

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself. 

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.  

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could. 

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind. 

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn. 

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre. 

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor. 

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened. 

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you. 

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress. 

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands. 

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment. 

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night. 

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed. 

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band. 

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor. 

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused. 

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis​ @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval 

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 16

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sun glared through the thin sheet of the tent, making your listless self stir beneath the blankets draped over your naked body. Cautious not to wake Bucky, who had his arms wrapped around you, you carefully buried your face deeper in his neck but he wasn't that much of a deep sleeper as you thought he would be.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He said, pulling you closer.

"G'morning." You replied, smiling against his skin. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Yes. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful sleeping."

"Someone tired me out last night."

Bucky chuckled, sending a low vibration on top of your head. "Hmm, how was he?"

"He's pretty good in bed." You chuckled. "But pretty creepy when he refers to himself in the third person."

You stayed right there for another hour — in each other's embrace, in heat, in thin sheets, in profound silence, still taking pleasure in the afterglow of what had transpired last night: the intimacy in each other's skin, of each other's mouths, of each other's everything. A kind of intimacy you never dared share with anyone, not even with your serious ex-boyfriend.

Before the both of you got up and headed down the fire escape and then to the apartment, you had looked at him one last time and asked yourself the same question you had asked Bucky the first time you were here on the rooftop:

"Have you ever felt that kind of feeling?" You asked.

"What feeling?"

"The afterglow feeling."

Was this the kind of afterglow you sought after?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Perhaps it was the sex; just that. The most amazing, mindblowing sex I ever had in my life, you thought. The more you described it that way while descending down the stairs and entering the apartment through the window (while wearing Bucky's shirt which looked huge on you, by the way), the more you believed it was just because of that. Besides, it was something that had given you sweet, sweet pleasure, something that made me feel like you were high on drugs, something that made you feel alive, something that made you feel things you didn't even know you could — the after of it all, of course, was worth so much more.

You both went straight to the bathroom to wash your faces and brush your teeth as soon as you got in. Of course, you took way more time than he did. He soon went to the kitchen to prep breakfast. You approached him afterwards, his bare back exposed to you while cracking some eggs into a bowl.

Without any hesitation at all, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. You caught a whiff of his scent, even though he reeked of sex, the vanilla-lavender hint never faded.

"Whatcha cookin', good-lookin'?" You asked, taking a peek on the table.

"I was thinking of making you Japanese omelettes today." He stopped whipping for a second to face you. He placed a finger on your chin, tilting it upwards, and proceeded to kiss me.

"Have I told you you have the softest lips?" He whispered after.

"Yes, you did." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And you kept reminding me last night."

"Good. You should be reminded of all the beautiful things you possess." He rested his hands on your hips. You wanted to shy away from the mention of the word beautiful but you didn't.

You have always received compliments, yes, but you never learned how to respond to them unless they tell you how to: "Oh for god's sake, just say thank you." Most people compliment you just because they have to, because social convention dictates them to (especially when you're at a party). Some, perhaps only five percent, genuinely compliment you.

But the spontaneity of last night — all the compliments Bucky kept giving you, all the "beautiful" being said over and over and over, were playing in your head like a broken record. Even after he saw all the folds, the rolls, stretch marks, scars, and acne marks.

It wasn't just that. He admired every single one of your photos down at the bar, photos you worked hard for, photos people kept neglecting. He talked about them like how you imagined someone actually talking about them. He talked to you about the beauty of art like how you wanted to talk to someone about it (Weirdly so, you picked friends you had nothing in common with: Nat just wanted to gossip, Steve preferred to be mysterious, Peter was all about business, Wanda was the one person you could talk to about these but you chose not to anymore, and Nick... was just Nick). It was like reading each other's minds.

You treated each as a compliment.

The five percent you were talking about? Bucky was it.

He pulled you out of your thoughts by sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing the cheeks for a bit, then placing them on the back of your thighs. You smiled then jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. He placed you on top of the counter next to all the ingredients he had prepared.

He grabbed your face and continued to make-out, leaving the eggs on the bowl raw and unwhisked.

"You should," you said in between kisses, "go back to cooking. I'm starving."

"Y'know, you could just eat me."

"Sorry, I want cooked eggs."

He pulled away from, yet his hands stayed on your waist. With a cute pout on his face, he said: "Mean."

You broke into laughter after that and you watched him cook this Japanese omelette he kept talking about.

"I would make you the most amazing Japanese omelette — and the most complicated one, by the way. It took me months to perfect that — but I'm too lazy to prepare the rice." He chuckled, grabbing an apron. "So, I'm just going to make you the normal one. It's called Tamagoyaki."

"Hmm, interesting." You commented. "I just do mine sunny-side up. Crack an egg on a pan. That's it. It's an underrated hack, really."

He laughed. "It's a good thing I'm here then." He proceeded to heat the pan, and throw some butter on it once the heat was good enough.

"You told me you only know how to cook breakfast, right? Why is that?"

"The same reason why you cook your eggs sunny-side up."

"It's easy?"

"Not just easy." He replied. "It's the easiest of all meals! Toast, eggs, bagels, bacon — see, they're pretty easy."

You frowned, tilting your head. "You know, most times, you say the most profound things but you do say the weirdest, silliest things sometimes."

It was like two people were fighting against each other inside him: the child, and the man.

He laughed at your comment and said nothing further as he concentrated on cooking. You watched him move around the kitchen as the minutes passed by. And while you talked about the small things in life, you couldn't help but wonder how this Bucky, standing right in front of you, kissing you, holding you, was much more different — way more different than the Bucky you knew in Peter's stories.

The thing you liked about it though, was that both versions excited you. You longed for spontaneous adventures, ones that you’d keep forever, ones that would remind you of the days of your youth, ones you too stuck up to do, and you longed for conversations like this, and the ones you and Bucky have had before, conversations that made you see more of life's beauty and appreciate it.

That same afternoon, you spent it lying down on a couch in each other's arms, watching a movie he guilted you into watching: Roman Holiday. You made side commentaries while you watched, how lame the lines were, how cheesy they all sounded, but at the same time, amazed at how things have changed since then.

"Ugh, I love me a vespa." You said, watching the vespa speed away on the streets. "I would just love to ride around New York city in a vespa and just pull off some Roman Holiday in this bitch."

"I have to admit, that does look fun."

And somewhere halfway through the film, when Bucky was making small circles with his finger on your waist (igniting fire within you, and at the same time, making you weak on your knees), you ended up making out, grabbing and touching each other beneath your clothes, and taking them all off, sending them flying all over the living room floor, and repeating what you did last night — except it was in broad daylight and Bucky dominated over you, over and over and over, flesh on flesh. You kept screaming each other's names. He kept fucking you into oblivion, taming the mad woman in you.

You laid there on your back, pulling down his neck with your right hand, making your foreheads touch, locking your eyes together, telling him to go "faster, deeper", digging deep and scratching into his back with your nails, making him hiss out your name, and at the same time, crying out his name repeatedly like a chant, making you forget your own.

You felt the droplets of his sweat on your skin, mixed with your own. You watched him ravish you, watched the pleasure consume him wholly, and watched his eyes roll back as he came inside.

"I really can't get enough of you, babydoll." He growled, and kissed you one last time before you showered and headed down to work.

-

"You look different." Nat observed, sitting on one of the high stools across you. "Did you do something with your face?"

"No, I didn't." You grimaced, shaking your head.

"Then, why are you glowing?"

"Quit staring."

She chose not to listen to you and kept on following you with her eyes as you moved around the counter. "Oh my god, I know what it is — "

"Goddamn it, Nat — "

" — you had sex!"

She cackled, gesturing you towards the booth with a sharp tone: "Booth. Now."

You followed suit. It was crystal clear in that moment that you had no other choice, that she held the upper hand in this friendship. You were starting to think that perhaps this friendship you were pursuing with Nat was a mistake as she kept on berating you about the information she just acquired.

"There's no way in hell I'm telling you all about it." You huffed, sitting across from her.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," she said, "I'm a fucking prophet."

"Don't be such a smug bitch." You rolled your eyes. "No one likes a smug bitch."

"What did I tell you about this Bucky thing, huh?" She smirked, ignoring you. Again. "Come on, spill the beans! I wanna hear everything!"

You shook your head unamused. "Nope. No way."

She groaned. "Please? Nothing exciting is ever happening in this bar but now I have this! You!"

"How about you and Steve humping each other like bunnies?" You bit your inner cheeks to prevent your lips from smiling. "That's gotta be exciting."

"Let's not talk about me and Steve."

"So, it's okay if we talk about my sex life but not yours?"

"Exactly."

You frowned. "You're a weird friend."

"No." She leaned in. "I'm a miracle-worker that happens to be your new best friend, by the way — "

"Parker's my best friend — "

" — and you should at least thank me. I am more than welcome, by the way."

"Nat, if you don't stop I swear to God I'm gonna out you and Steve to the whole ass bar." You groaned, knocking your forehead against the table. Coincidentally, you could actually out them of the closet knowing they were actually doing it in one of the closets here in the bar (yes, you found a condom wrapper lying around one time. Knowing what had transpired in that small space, believe you me, you sprinted the fuck out of there).

"Ugh fine, fine." She said, making you stop banging your head and forcing you to look at her. "Just tell me this... Was it good?"

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, yes, it was good."

"Just good?"

You sighed in defeat, leaning back on the cushioned backrest of the booth. "It was the best I ever had." Nat bit her lip, hiding a squeal. "There. Ya happy?"

"Now, I'm curious! Please, y/n, you have to tell me. I gots to know! Okay, tell me, how big was he?"

"What?! No, I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Come on, I'll trade you Steve's."

"Ew, Nat! Gross!" You cringed. "I don't wanna know that!"

Then, she proceeded to move her hands in the opposite direction slowly, "tell me when to stop." You shook your head and just watched her in plain amusement as she continued to do it. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god, this big? Seriously?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Come on, you told me about the time you kissed!"

"That's different." You scoffed. "This one's... intimate."

"Ooohhh, intimate. Well, I've never heard anyone describe sex that way."

"It was just different, okay? Good different." You replied. "And that's all I'm telling you."

She heaved a sigh, finally accepting the fact that you won't go anywhere past what you just told her. "Okay, at least you gave me something. Do you mind if I ask you something real, though? I swear this is the last time. It's not about sex, I promise."

Convinced, you nodded. "Go ahead."

"So, are you guys dating now? Or is it just, ya know, fooling around?"

You sat there, undoubtedly floored by the question. You had never even given it a thought. It never crossed your mind until Nat just made you realize the consequences of yesterday, last night and this afternoon, the inevitable. Were you dating? Will you ever talk about it? Is he even considering it? Or will you just continue to have sex without ever talking about dating?

"I, uh, I don't know. We didn't talk about it."

"Well, clearly there's gotta be something, right? That it's not just fooling around. I mean you said it was intimate, that it was good different — whatever that means." said Nat. "There's gotta be something deep?"

You looked at Natasha with astonishment, baffled by the things coming out of her mouth. Apparently,you were still on cloud nine to think about any kind of repercussion, to think about what could happen next to afterglow.

"I guess?"

"Do you like him?"

"Clearly, I do."

Unlike Nat, you were stunned by your answer. You answered that question faster than the speed of light.

She smirked at you in response. "You are so gonna fall in love."

"Shut your hole, Nat."

The door flew open suddenly, revealing Bucky and Sam, which got you up your feet. Instinctively and ignoring Nat, you approached him halfway and greeted him with a kiss which he gladly reciprocated, all the things you and Nat just talked about disappearing into this sweet, sweet kiss.

"Hey you." You breathed after pulling away from his lips.

"Hey, babydoll."

"Oh hey, Sam."

"Hey, babydoll." Sam mocked, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's a cute name. What is that? French?"

Bucky smacked his friend on the stomach, making Sam groan and glare at him. "So, it's not French?"

"Sam." Bucky warned which Sam only found funny.

Bucky kept his hand on your waist as you approached the booth, with Sam behind us. Nat, who was still sitting on the booth, cocked her head on the side and eyed Bucky up and down. "Bucky, Sam... This is Nat from the night before." You introduced them to each other before you made them sit in the booth.

"Do you boys want anything to drink?" Nat asked.

"We'll have scotch." Bucky replied, giving Nat a friendly smile. "On the rocks."

"Actually, I don't know how to make drinks, I just asked to be nice."

You rolled your eyes at Nat, laughing lightly. "Don't worry, I got them." You approached the counter and prepared the drinks while Nat followed your trail.

"Babydoll?" She asked. "Steve doesn't even have a nickname for me."

"Okay, I have to ask this since you already did it to me anyway." You said, pouring scotch on the glasses. "Are you and Steve dating? Or is it just, like you said, fooling around?"

"We're friends... with benefits."

"So, just fooling around then?" You asked.

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"Aren't you worried he might want something more than that? Like a relationship? He does seem like a man who wants to settle, y'know."

"Aren't you worried your new boy toy might want something like that too?"

You fell silent just as you were about to finish the drinks. You weren't worried about that, no. You were worried about you, wanting something more, something you haven't had in a long time, something Bucky hasn't had.

"The chances of me and Steve getting even serious are very slim." She whispered. "But you and Bucky? Now, that's a big fat chance. It doesn't even matter how long you guys have known each other. If there's chemistry, then you can't do anything about it, and the way you described your whole thing with him? Babydoll," she smirked, proud of herself, "if that's not chemistry then I don't know what is."

"As far as I can remember, you're the one who told me to just 'go where the river takes you' and now you're confusing me with these things!" You hissed, looking over at the booth and making sure Bucky won't hear your little banter.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Okay, okay, okay... Allow me to paint you a picture, y/n."

"Paint me a picture — ?"

"Do you know where the river takes you? A waterfall." Nat cut youoff. "Now, right now, you're still on a boat, just gliding through the river, going where the flow takes you. Then some time now, you're gonna hit a fast stream until boom, waterfalls, and when you reach the top of the falls, inevitably, you're gonna fall... fall in love, that is, with the hunky rich man over there. See? Painting a picture. I can be smart too."

You kept Nat's words in the back of your mind until you gave Bucky and Sam their drinks, saving them for later. Nat had to go out for a while to smoke outside, leaving you, Sam and Bucky in the booth, discussing the project you had with Sam's line, updating you with all the dates and details. Seeing as you'll soon be leaving the bar by the end of the week, you offered to start first thing next week.

"But I could actually give you a little pitch presentation just before we start shooting," you added, "idea decks we can work with, like styles, and some mood boards that fit your whole apparel aesthetic. But first, I need to know your brand bible, like your target audience, the tone of your business — stuff like that — just so I can prepare for the presentation."

"Wow, you know a lot about the business industry." Sam replied, amused.

"I used to major in business and finance." You sighed. "It does come in handy with my photography."

Under the table, Bucky reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand three times which elicited a smile.

"Oh, I can give you a tour!" Sam enthusiastically said. "We can go to the office and to some of the stores; maybe the one in Fifth Street. We've actually received the shipment for the new designs. We could discuss everything then. How does tomorrow sound? Bucky can come with ya."

"Tomorrow works, yes! Tomorrow's perfect." You agreed.

You broke out in a smile, leaning on Bucky's side who was more than glad to see you discussing with Sam about the project, squeezing you hand once more, three times.

"Then, it's settled!" Sam boomed. "Now, where's the toilet? I think I got a little too excited."

You threw you head back, laughing. "Right down the hall over there." You pointed.

As soon as Sam was gone, Bucky turned towards you and held your face with his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "You sound so hot talking like that."

You chuckled, sliding closer towards him, your thighs brushing past each other. "You and your weird mind, Bucky I swear to God."

With his lips pressed on yours, you didn't even notice the door open, didn't even notice Steve walk in. You pulled away, hearing Steve clearing his throat. With your hands still on Bucky, you turned towards Steve, who was clearly entertained, and sent him a huge smile.

"H-hey, Rogers." You chuckled nervously. "You remember Bucky."

"Mr. Barnes." Steve nodded at Bucky.

"Mr. Rogers."

You frowned at their formal exchange. "Bucky's actually here with his friend, Sam Wilson. I'm starting a project with him for his business that'll start next week. We were just, uh, discussing the details."

"In his mouth?" Steve smirked.

"Steve." You hissed. "Not cool, man."

"So, where's this Sam Wilson?" Steve asked, looking to his right.

"On your left."

Steve turned around on his left at Sam's voice. Both men stared at each other for a while before introducing each other and shaking each other's hands. Weirded out, you turned to Bucky and asked if they knew each other, if the three of them knew each other (as you now remembered that time when Bucky and Steve met here in the bar).

Bucky shook his head no. "Maybe he's just one of those familiar faces you see on the street." He whispered, but as Steve went straight to his office, and as Sam got back in the booth, a weird tension surfaced that was cut off by Nat entering the bar, together with some customers who were more than happy to be the first ones here.

"That's my cue." You sighed, standing up and letting go of Bucky's hands before going to the counter and greeting the customers.

You felt your phone vibrate against your back pocket after a few seconds. You opened it, and on the screen was a message from Peter:

Sorry couldn't get to you sooner. Lost my charger on the way to the cabin! Schmidt didn't want me to borrow his until I did everything he told me to. Everything's great! I'll send you pictures when I can.

Hope Bucky's taking good care of you. Miss you, y/n. I'll see you in a few days!

Your fingers hovered on the screen as you glanced at Bucky who caught your eyes. He winked at you while taking a sip from his drink and licked his lip afterwards, eyeing you up and down.

Tell Schimdt I'll beat his ass when he comes back. See you in a few days, Parker!

A series of what happened between you and Bucky flashed in your mind, making you bite your lip.

And don't worry, Bucky's taking good care of me.

... such good care.

[keanureevesisbae]

Christmas with John Wick

Summary: John Wick is about to spend his first Christmas in years.

John Wick x clumsy!reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my one shot for the gift exchange! Thank you @overheardatthecontinental​ for this lovely idea. It has been quite some time since I wrote for John Wick and it sure was fun. @ladyreapermc​ I hope you like it 🥰 Merry Christmas everyone!!

John hadn’t celebrated Christmas since Helen died.

Actually, he hadn’t celebrated any holiday at all after the passing of his late wife four years ago and he figured he would never do that again. While the world around him would celebrate days like Valentines Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas, he would sit on his couch, staring at the fireplace with his loyal canine sitting next to him to keep him company.

However this year, that is not the case, all because he met the love of his life: Y/N. He remembers it clearly, seeing her for the first time. March 21st, the first day of spring. He went to his favorite cafe, to order a simple cappuccino, a tradition he started since the beginning of this year. While everything was the same as usual, the presence of the world’s biggest scatterbrain he has ever seen, was out of the ordinary.

She walked in, her head practically buried in her purse. She wore a pink midi dress, paired with white sneakers and when she finally looked up, he saw her pink lips and her beautiful sparkly eyes.

John didn’t believe in love at first sight, but after locking eyes with her, the beautiful woman smiling at him, he was put in severe doubt.

Every day he would see her in the cafe. Sometimes she dropped her money, her entire bag or worse: her coffee. Seeing her muttering apologies made his heart flutter. When she dropped her lipstick and it rolled towards him, he picked it up, so he could hand it back to her. Yet again he was met with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, including the glimmer in her eyes and right there and then, he fell head over heels in love with her.

John thought of her quite a lot, in and outside the cafe. However, when this human form of adorable asked for his name and introduced herself, she was on his mind 24/7. He was looking forward on seeing her in the cafe again and again and again.

Y/N. He kept thinking about her name, how well it matched her personality and how it sounded like a beautiful symphony. For hours on end he kept wondering whether or not he should ask her out. Should he ruin what the two of them already had? A nice good morning exchange every day? Some small talk?

Besides, there was always the opportunity of being turned down. She was breathtakingly gorgeous and way out of his league. Why would she even agree to going out with him?

However, when she greeted him one morning, said his name with her beautiful voice and even touched his arm, he decided to go for it and ask her out.

On April Fools day.

After frantically trying to explain to her that he was definitely not kidding and he was for real, she said yes. He couldn’t believe that on the day of the jokes, he a) had a date and b) had his first kiss in years.

Y/N was and is the best thing that could ever happen to John. He loves waking up next to her and going to the cafe together instead of alone. Simply not being alone with his loyal dog, was all he ever wanted, but never in a million years he thought he would get that.

John watches the love of his life roam through the store, taking in every section of the Christmas department, as he walks behind her with the packed cart.

‘John, honey,’ she says as she spins around to look at him. ‘This is so adorable, look at it!’ She shows him a single Christmas ornament of a pitbull. ‘He looks like Tito, doesn’t he?’

While he never consciously named his dog and simply referred to him as “Boy”, Y/N couldn’t stand the fact the canine did not have a name. Besides, she couldn’t whistle, so calling him became a pain.

She tried tons of names. Bodie, Hunter, Jesse, Victor and even Rudolph, but the dog didn’t respond. Until she tried the name Tito as a joke. While John wasn’t necessarily a fan of the name Tito (he actually hated it, joke or not), he saw how Y/N’s eyes lit up when the dog responded to her, nearly wagging his tail off.

And then he realized the pitbull was indeed a Tito.

‘Put it in the cart, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘If, of course, you can find an empty place to put it.’

Y/N stares at the cart and while she scrunches up her nose, she lets out a sigh. ‘I’m going a little overboard, aren’t I?’

He can’t help but chuckle. ‘Maybe a little bit, but I don’t mind,’ he says, as he looks in the cart, filled with lights, garlands and edible and non-edible ornaments.

‘You are paying for all of this and this ornament alone is ten dollar, which is way too expensive for one single ornament.’

She already walks away, but John grabs her hand and pulls her back. ‘We’re buying this one, sweetheart. I don’t care this alone is ten dollars, I really don’t.’ He lets go of the cart, so he can gently pull the ornament out of her hand.

‘John,’ she says, ‘I think everything in that cart is worth over five hundred dollar. I honestly don’t know what I was even thinking. I guess it’s for the best if we put some stuff back.’

‘We are not putting anything back. Remember, this is our first Christmas together. I want it to be as memorable as we can make it and all of this,’—he nods towards their cart—‘is a necessity to make our Christmas perfect.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I mean, it’s quite a lot. Stuff wise and money wise and I don’t want you to regret it.’

‘More than sure.’ He presses a kiss on her forehead. She always worries about money, insists on paying for the coffees and other dates, but he never lets her. He adores spending money on her and this… All the Christmas stuff, is only the beginning of the many Christmases they are going to spend together.

The beginning of their future together, because he is positive they are never going to break up. Maybe it’s too optimistic… Maybe, but if it were up to him, he’d never let her go. ‘I’m gonna say this one more time: don’t you ever worry about money again. I’ve got you, darling.’

The two of them stroll through the store some more and Y/N puts some more necessary stuff in the cart. They end up buying Christmas stuff worth a little over seven hundred dollars. John senses an upcoming heart from both the cashier and his girlfriend. While he pays with his card and pretends not to notice, he places his hand on her lower back. ‘Remember to breath, darling,’ he whispers, as the two of them walk to the car. ‘It’s just money.’

After a quick drive back home, they are greeted by Tito. And with them, he means Y/N, because Tito simply ignores John. Sometimes it makes him jealous to see his dog is almost claiming his girlfriend, but he is also forever grateful they get along this amazingly.

‘We are going to decorate our house today!’ she tells the pitbull, who shakes his entire butt as he wags his tail in excitement. ‘I even bought you a stocking, do you like that?’ She kisses the top of his head, before walking towards the table. While John carries the boxes and bags inside, Y/N’s full attention is directed towards her beloved notebook, where she scribbled down what she has planned for his place.

Originally she wanted to decorate her own studio, like she usually did before they started dating, but he keeps telling her that his place is her place. It’s hard for her to believe that, however she barely is at her own studio anymore. She does, on the other hand, still refer to their place as solely his place.

Maybe decorating it will change her mind.

John walks up to her, stands behind her and buries his face in her nape, taking in her lovely perfume. ‘Okay, darling, what’s the plan?’ he asks against her skin, wrapping his arms around her.

‘First the tree,’ she tells him, ‘then the stairs. Everything we have left, we’ll find a spot for that, I can guarantee.’

🎅🏻 🎅🏻 🎅🏻

It took them six hours before they finally decorated the stairs, the tree and the rest of the place. Six hours! It’s safe to say his girlfriend might’ve gone a tad overboard. Everywhere John goes, there is something Christmas related, however he wouldn’t want it any other way.

‘Darling, you need help?’ he asks from the couch, while Y/N is preparing something in the kitchen.

‘No,’ she yells back. ‘Just adding some sprinkles and then it’s all done.’ Not long after she told him that, she walks into the living room with a tray in her hands. ‘Two hot chocolates,’ she says with a smile, placing the tray on the little table in front of the couch and she hands him a mug. ‘Not to brag, but my hot chocolates are the best in the entire world. In fact, they are that good, you might want them all year around.’ Y/N sits next to him with her own white mug she took from her own place. ‘Cheers,’ she says with a smile.

John takes a small sip of the drink and hums in content. ‘This is delicious, darling.’

‘And?’ she pushes with a smile.

‘And I might want this all year around.’

‘Very good,’ she laughs. ‘Oh, look at you.’ She wipes the whipped cream off his nose, before leaning over to him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he says to her, ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too and once again: I’m sorry for totally overdoing it and having you working like a dog, because I had unrealistic ideas.’

John simply scoffs, before chuckling. ‘None of that. Besides, I managed to make your ideas reality, so how unrealistic were those ideas.’ He wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to his body. ‘I like it a lot and there is a slight possibility I’m not going to take this down anytime soon.’

The entire night, they spend drinking hot chocolate, watching cheesy Netflix Christmas movies and after a while, his girlfriend fell asleep in his arms. Thankfully she was already wearing her pajamas, so he carries her upstairs, walking passed the Christmas lights woven into the bars of the stairs. John places her in their bed, pressing multiple kisses on her cheek, before he quickly goes downstairs, to lock the doors and turn off some lights.

John passes the lit up Christmas tree and his eye falls on a picture. He didn’t know this was in here. He bends towards the picture, so he can see it up close. It’s a picture of him and Helen. Y/N knows about Helen and she looks at their pictures quite a lot—she even told him to put some up.

And now she placed one in the tree. His Y/N sure is a special one and truly one of a kind.

He smiles at the picture, thinking about Helen telling him to make most out of his life after she passes. It took him awhile, but he is finally getting there. Finally getting to a place where he is happy again.

‘I’m going to have a Merry Christmas, Helen,’ he whispers. ‘I hope you do too from wherever you are.’

🎅🏻 🎅🏻 🎅🏻

[raleighcarrera]

make way

open heart | bryce lahela x mc (casey valentine)

the prompt said: ‘bryce tells mc that he loves her while she's falling asleep and the next morning she just assumes it was a dream bc she was just so tired’

also for @choicesseptemberchallenge20 day 1 which worked out nicely (tired)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @zigtheeortega ; @omgjasminesimone ; @beccadavenport ; @pixeljazzy 💕

~2.3k words | T

she’s coming off of thirty-six hours straight at the hospital when it happens.

it’s been an exceedingly long week. balancing her work on the diagnostics team along with her regular responsibilities and managing her intern would be difficult enough without the added wrench of a bus crash thrown into her day, but, of course, that’s the way life at edenbrook goes: every day has its own new bus crash, in one way or another.

regardless, there’s new injured patients to treat and old ones to check up on and high-profile cases to worry about in the interim, so she can use her strategy to save the hospital and then rub dr. ramsey’s self-righteous nose in her success (in that order).

there’s a lot going on, and not much time to sleep. there’s brief breaks, here and there -- just enough for a quick nap in the on-call rooms -- but then it’s right back to work.

and before she knows it, it’s been thirty-six hours and bryce is forcibly dragging her onto the t in her scrubs, and she’s falling asleep with her head on his shoulder and almost definitely drooling onto his jacket.

because he’s bryce, and he’s perfect, he doesn’t say anything about that. he only runs his fingers through her hair and takes her home to his blessedly quiet, roommate-less apartment, where the pizza delivery’s been timed so perfectly that the driver is actually coming up in the elevator at the same time they are.

casey’s so grateful she could cry. instead, she waits until her mouth is half-full with her third slice to look over at her boyfriend with wide, appreciative eyes and groan, “god, you’re wonderful.”

bryce laughs at her. “please. i’m just glad i found you before you actually collapsed in ramsey’s office.”

she nods, finally chewing and swallowing the bite she’d paused to sing his praises. “i am going to sleep -- all day tomorrow.” her head is throbbing. it’s a massive effort just to remember what day it is, but there’s one thing sticking out to her, a fuzzy memory from when they’d compared schedules last weekend. “wait. you have to work?”

he sighs, dusting off his hands. “yeah.” bryce pulls a face as if to imply that it’s the single worst thing that’s ever happened to him. “sorry, babe. wish i could kick it here with you.”

“it’s okay.” a wide yawn stretches her mouth open. “you don’t mind if i stay here?”

“nah.” bryce’s smile is easygoing and a little excited. “stay as long as you want. knowing you’re here will make my day go by faster.”

maybe, she thinks deliriously, her limbs feeling even heavier now that she’s eaten than they had on their commute home, she can do something nice for him tomorrow. make dinner, or something -- after she’s slept.

casey blinks, realizing all at once that she’s completely zoned out again. “what? sorry. i’m just --”

“i know.” there’s a fondness in his voice and a softness in his eyes when he stands and pulls her to her feet, tugging her in so she can lean against him. she does so immediately, burrowing into the warmth of his chest. “come on. let’s get you to bed.”

she isn’t sure exactly how it happens, but when she yawns at him next, it’s from the lush safety of his mattress and the blankets on his bed; casey cuddles into the pillows and blinks sleepily up at him, waiting for bryce to join her. the only thing in the world that could make going to sleep now, at eight o’clock with a day off ahead of her, is having her boyfriend’s body heat beside her to soak up.

but bryce laughs at her again, shaking his head. “i gotta put the food away. i’ll be in in a minute.”

“fine,” casey mumbles. the word breaks with another yawn halfway through. her eyelids are already fluttering. “just -- hurry up.”

“of course.” she feels the brush of his lips against her forehead, and then her mouth, bryce’s kiss so gentle it’s almost not there. his fingers slip through her hair again.

the sound she makes is somewhere between a delighted groan and a sigh of pure content. she isn’t sure she’s ever been so comfortable in her life; bryce’s bed is warm and cozy and the sheets are clean -- they smell like him, and so does the shirt she’s wearing. her whole body is heavy with exhaustion and the satisfaction of the work she’s done. she feels cared for. she’s happy.

just before everything goes dark, somewhere, in the space she’s floating in between sleep and wakefulness, she hears bryce’s voice -- one last hesitant murmur of her name. it’s only on the very edge of her conscious, but she’s positive the words he says are, “i love you, casey.”

*

the apartment is predictably silent when she wakes up.

there’s nothing like the peacefulness that comes from waking up in an empty apartment. with so many roommates, it isn’t something that casey’s accustomed to, and she relishes it now, soaking up the stillness of bryce’s bedroom joyfully.

there’s birds chirping outside. she turns her face into the pillows and breathes in slowly, burrowing a little further into the sheets.

there’s nothing on the horizon, for today -- no work, no chores, no responsibilities. it’s the perfect way to start her day, if only her boyfriend was in bed beside her.

speaking of. casey reaches her hand out, fumbling blindly on the nightstand until it closes around her cellphone. she finally blinks her eyes open when she pulls the device under the sheets with her, balking at the time displayed on the home screen.

it’s past two-thirty in the afternoon.

she blinks, knuckling sleep out of her eyes. she really had been exhausted.

there’s a slew of text messages waiting for her, mostly from her roommates. the group chat is abuzz with wondering where she is and if she’s alive; casey holds off on answering them in favor of navigating to her thread with bryce, where he’s texted good morning beautiful and text me when you wake up. getting out of bed this morning was impossible with you in it

her teeth bite at her bottom lip to stifle the smile that’s threatening. eight months of being official with bryce and it still never gets old, to be on the receiving end of those cheesy, over-the-top compliments. no boyfriend of hers before him had ever sent a good morning text message.

hiiiiiiiiii she writes back, spreading out in his bed, just woke up. hope today’s going well for you. can’t wait to get you back in this bed with me

his reply is almost immediate. fuck you, it says, making her grin up at the ceiling, i’m about to go into surgery. you’re evil

casey settles for an onslaught of heart emojis, as she rolls out of said bed and heads for the kitchen. as expected, there’s no food in bryce’s fridge, but there is coffee, and she takes her time enjoying it and flipping through the channels on bryce’s tv -- they don’t have cable, at her place -- before finally making her way into the shower.

she’s in the middle of shampooing her hair when she remembers what happened last night. it comes back to her abruptly, the memory too vivid to be true. bryce’s lips, brushing against hers -- his hands pulling the comforter up to her shoulders -- and then...

i love you, casey.

she frowns, tipping her head back under the water to rinse her hair.

that has to have been a dream, right?

she’d remember it, if it were real. she’d’ve said something to him, last night, or... today. he’d’ve said something about it.

right?

casey marinates on it for the entirety of her shower, waffling back and forth. it both feels like a dream and not, making it difficult to ascertain what really happened. she was exhausted last night -- she barely remembers leaving the hospital, after all. but if bryce had really said... for the first time...

she’d have to remember that, wouldn’t she?

she thinks about it when she gets dressed and heads to the store to find something passable she can make for dinner (though it’s definitely going to be pasta, again). last night was a blur; her memory of everything that happened after bryce found her in the on-call room is in bits and pieces. there’s only the vague outline of their evening flashing in her mind: sleeping on him on the t, eating pizza shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, stumbling into his bedroom and falling into bed...

and then the same bit she can’t stop thinking about, as clear as day -- his kiss, and the soft, hesitant sound of his voice when he’d said those three words and that reverent utterance of her name.

it plays in her head on a loop in the check-out line. it has to have been a dream, that’s the only explanation for it.

he wouldn’t -- they don’t -- because he’s not...

...except that he might be.

he might be, because she’s pretty sure that she is, and -- if he felt the same way, that would be... life-changing. exceptional. pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her, outside of her professional accomplishments.

because bryce is pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her. he is everything she’s ever wanted and didn’t know she was looking for -- completely different from her usual ‘type’ in the best way. bryce is smart and thoughtful and funny and witty and devastatingly sexy -- complex and considerate and an amazing listener and a world-class shoulder massager...

someone so easy to fall in love with she hadn’t even realized it was happening until it was too late.

so her stupid, useless brain had probably imagined that he’d said it first to give her something pleasant to dream about. casey glares bitterly at the tomatoes she’s blistering when the realization washes over her.

and that’s how bryce finds her: in the kitchen, stirring spaghetti in sweats she stole out of his closet, her long hair still drying where it’s damp on her shoulders. he’s loud when he crowds in behind her at the stove, talking a mile a minute about his day, how good it smells in the apartment and how much he missed her, all at once.

he buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales, pressing his lips lightly against the side of her throat. “you sleep okay?”

casey relaxes despite herself and her annoyance, melting a little against his chest. she nods. “yeah. thanks for taking care of me last night.”

bryce’s hands are warm when they slip under the hem of her (his) hoodie. his hands fan out over her hips. “of course,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose at the base of her neck, “anything for you, babe.”

maybe he had said it.

she thinks about it some more as she spoons pasta into two plates and they tumble back onto the couch together. the words bounce around in her brain while he slurps spaghetti beside her, interspersed with more compliments: how good dinner is, how thoughtful she is, how multi-talented she manages to be.

well, there’s only one way to find out.

casey lets him clear the plates away and load the dishwasher because she cooked, and it’s only fair, and waits until he’s back on the couch with her with that inviting space at his side wide open.

then, she slips into it, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against him. bryce’s arm curls around her shoulders in turn, and his lips press a delicate kiss to the top of her head.

“i love you,” casey sighs. the words leave her lips so easily she’s hardly able to believe that there was once a point in time where she felt nervous to be the first to say so.

it’s true, after all. she’s not sure if she’s ever been in love, before -- she thought she had, but it wasn’t like this (nothing could ever be like this) -- but she’s positive about bryce. with her life constantly in flux, filled with so much chaos, being with bryce is the one thing she feels like she’s actually gotten right.

his hand stills from where he’d been rubbing her shoulder, hesitating for just a moment. then, he says, “i love you, too.”

casey turns her cheek to look up at him, her eyes wide. “really?”

the laugh he gives is low and fond, sending a thrill of happiness straight down her spine and to her toes. “how could i not?”

“so... you did say that last night. i thought it was a dream.” the swarm of butterflies in her stomach beat their wings harder at the very idea.

bryce makes a noncommittal hum into her hair. “i wasn’t sure if you heard me. i meant it, though. i love you, case.”

casey opens her mouth to crack a joke, but her throat feels suspiciously tight. how emotional she is catches her completely off guard, surprising her silent.

so -- she’s loved. by probably the most perfect man on the east coast, if not in the entire united states of america. or the world.

weird. part of her had thought something like this might never happen for her.

“i...” she trails off, shaking her head. it’s overwhelming, just how happy she is. her arms press bryce a little closer, pulling him to her a little tighter. “um, thank you.”

he laughs again, sounding taken aback. “for what?”

“for loving me,” casey answers, as though it should be obvious.

she can feel bryce’s shrug against her side; the movement jostles her against him, a little -- but then he squeezes her back, crushing her into the broad planes of his chest.

“it’s easy,” he promises, and though he’s the first person to ever say so, she believes him.

[kaalamarii]

Karaoke Headcanons

I left out Barbatos, Simeon, and Luke but I’m pretty proud of this ridiculousness.

Hope you like it, anon!

Lucifer

Absolutely scoffs at the thought of karaoke

Cause he’s a bitch

Who in all the worlds would ever find this fun???

It’s loud

All these songs are abhorrent

ugh , these flashing lights are too much

But these drinks are pretty good.

Like, really good.

Lucifer has a lot of them.

Basically gets white girl wasted.

“I cAn SiNg WaY bEtTeR tHaN yOu CaN, sAtAn...”

MC and his brothers finally talk him into going up

Slurs his way through Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York”

Has a pretty good voice actually. It’s kind of deep and clear (despite the drunkenness) and fits the Sinatra sound perfectly.

He stays up for several songs and tries to fight his brothers when they try to pull him off stage

MC and Diavolo finally convince him to let someone else have a turn

And to get some water.

Wakes up the next morning with a hoarse voice and no recollection of the night until he sees the videos his brothers took

Probably bans them from their phones until he has a chance to delete them all

(he doesn’t know about the ones Diavolo has though)

Mammon

Totally up for karaoke

“Gotta show off my talent”

Steals the bartender’s tips when nobody’s looking

Also steals the bathroom attendant’s tips

And other random stuff he finds

Takes a million photos and videos of drunk Lucifer

Chooses the common songs

“Don’t Stop Believing”

“Living on A Prayer”

“Sweet Caroline” (with his brothers and MC doing the BA-BA-BA!, of course)

Is a decent singer and actually puts on a pretty good show

Probably gets kicked out when they find out he’s the one stealing everybody’s tips

Lucifer makes him go back the next night to work to pay back what he stole

Leviathan

Isn’t super keen on going but is slightly interested because he saw karaoke on an anime once

MC talks him into going

Takes a handheld game with him and plays almost the entire time

Refuses to sing until MC calls him up to do a duet with them

And actually finds it kind of fun

Excited to find a couple of anime theme songs and a bunch of kpop

Gets jealous and sad sacky if MC does duets with anyone else

Poor baby is not a good singer

But he’s trying!

Posts commentary on the night:

“Lolololol lucifer is super drunk”; “Mammon just spilled drinks all over the place. Loser.”; “Satan just totally threw up in here rofl”

Gets angry when a drunken Mammon heckles him and refuses to do anymore songs

Pouts the rest of the night

Secretly downloads the songs he sang with MC and puts on one man shows for Henry in his bedroom

Satan

Also thinks karaoke is dumb

But Lucifer is annoyed with it so Satan’s down to go

Asks MC and Solomon what the most annoying songs to sing are so he can drive Lucifer crazy

“500 Miles”

“MmmBop”

“Achy Breaky Heart”

A very awkward rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”

It’s ridiculous because he doesn’t knows the words

But he’s so determined to give Lucifer a hard time

The drunker he and Lucifer gets the more funny it is to everyone else

They actually end up doing a really sloppy duet of “Bohemian Rhapsody” that astounds everyone

Sings out of tune, but isn’t the worst singer of the bunch

Mammon gets him to sing “Happy” by Pharrell Williams

Satan hates it.

Never admits that he had a lot of fun that night and actually found some new songs that he likes

Gets Achy Breaky Heart stuck in his head for weeks after much to his chagrin

(congratulations, you played yourself)

Asmodeus

Asmo LOVES karaoke

Has a great voice and great stage presence

Gets super dressed up, hair, makeup, heels

Asmo’s a freakin’ star

Sings a lot of cheesy love songs and “dedicates” them to MC

Also sings a lot of sexually charged songs like

“Cherry Pie” by Warrant

And “Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred

Definitely does “Like A Virgin” and “I Touch Myself”

You know he and MC do a “All The Single Ladies” with complete dance moves

Flirts with the bartender to get free drinks

Takes selfies and live streams on Devilgram all night

Beelzebub

Is interested as soon as MC tells him about greasy bar food

But also thinks it sounds like it could be fun

Just wants to eat and be around his favorite people

Likes all kinds of music

Isn’t a big singer but can carry a simple tune

Sings a bunch of random songs that everyone else picks for him

“If You Like Pina Coladas”

“Pour Some Sugar On Me”

Mostly does duets with the others though

MC and Solomon are impressed with how much alcohol Beel can put away before he’s even slightly tipsy

He doesn’t drink or sing much because he’s more interested in the food and watching the cute little shows his friends and family put on

Gets upset when the kitchen runs out of food and throws a bit of tantrum until MC steps in and promises to get him more food once they head home

Belphegor

Doesn’t really want to go but Beel wants him to and so does MC

So he goes

You know this bitch sleeps most of the night

Could be a good singer but doesn’t care enough

Doesn’t really go up on stage to sing unless it’s with Beel or MC

By himself he does a couple of songs, probably something slow like “Hey Jude”

Or something emo like “The Black Parade”

Doesn’t drink, it makes him too sleepy

Rolls his eyes at everything Lucifer and Diavolo say or do

Diavolo

It was Diavolo’s idea to take everyone to karaoke!

Solomon told him about it and he was so excited!

Friends! Music! Drinks! Diavolo couldn’t think of anything more fun!

He asks Solomon and MC’s advice for songs to sing and they pick a few for him

Of course, they troll him

“You should definitely check out this song called ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black”

“Yeah, it’s really popular in the human world.”

“Also, you and Lucifer should do a duet of Summer Nights from Grease.”

“Make sure Lucifer does Sandy’s parts”

MC makes him a playlist on his D.D.D. and this cutie pie memorizes every song on there.

Makes Barbatos practice with him ahead of time.

Is a great singer, of course

And a very good entertainer.

Wants to stay all night, still singing as the bar is closing up and everyone else is falling asleep.

“We’ll be back next weekend!” (groans from everyone else)

Makes everyone go every weekend for a month and a half until Barbatos has to talk him out of it.

Everyone pulls cash together to get Diavolo a karaoke machine.

It’s one of his prized possessions and they all agree to a karaoke night once every two months.

Diavolo uses it constantly much to Barbatos’ dismay.

MC continues to add songs to his playlist.

Solomon and MC

Sing “What’s New Pussycat” 21 times, with “It’s Not Unusual” after the seventh “What’s New Pussycat”

Masterlist  

[ffakc]

A Midwest Christmas - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Again, I’m aware I’m late posting this. I know it’s no longer Christmas, don’t yell at me. Christmas is one of my favorite holidays and I LOVE writing stories that are based around Christmas.

Jeff crushed out his cigarette and breathed hot air into his hands to warm them. He shrugged his shoulders a few times, almost as if he was psyching himself up.

“You okay, babe?” I ask and kiss his cheek, shutting the car off.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m so nervous! I’m a grown ass man, damn it,” my boyfriend chuckles.

“They’ll love you, Jeff. You know my mom and dad love you already, you have nothing to worry about, baby” I give his thigh a squeeze and kiss his neck deeply. Jeff moans and tilts his head to the side.

“Please don’t give me a boner before meeting your female relatives,” Jeff chuckles. “I don’t know, babe. Dad might not love me after I walk through the door,” he gestures to his Seattle Seahawks beanie.

“He’ll get over it,” I laugh and open the car door. Jeff grabs the box of gifts from the trunk and holds my hand as we walk to the front door.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” I holler from the foyer. Jeff kicks off his boots.

“Hey sweetie! Hey Jeff, what’s up, brother?” my dad calls from the den.

“Hey, Mr. C,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“Oh no, oh no. You take that hat off! You’re in Bear country!” my dad laughs. “Just when I thought I liked you!”

“I knew you’d say something! GO HAWKS!” Jeff chuckles and tosses it onto the bench. My dad jokingly makes a fist. I roll my eyes playfully and ruffle his hair as we head upstairs. Men and their sports, I’ll never understand it.

“You can just set the gifts under the tree,” I whisper to Jeff and give his arm a squeeze. He waves at my female relatives at the table.

“Hiiiii! Merry Christmas! I’ve missed you!” my cousin Amy hugs me. “How’s New York?”

“Absolutely incredible. Every day feels like a new adventure with this one,” I gesture to my man standing behind me. “This is my boyfriend, Jeff!”

“Hi there, you must be Amy? I’ve heard so much about you!” Jeff shakes her hand and kisses her cheek.

“All good things I hope!” Amy laughs.

“Yes ma’am. I’ve heard y’all are super close, and I love that. Family togetherness recharges the batteries.”

“I’m glad to hear it! I can’t think of a single holiday we didn’t spend together,” Amy gestures around the table.

“Have a seat!” my mom says. “Can I get you anything to drink? We have wine, beer, Coke Zero...”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Jeff replies and sits next to me at the long dinner table. I pull a small bottle of Crown Royal out of my bag.

“I’ll take a Coke as well,” I laugh.

“You came to party! I’ll take some too,” Jeff wraps his arm around me and kisses my cheek as I add the liquor to his glass of ice, “It smells amazing in here, Ma,” Jeff says to my mom.

“Thanks, Jeff! It’s a tradition on Christmas that we have Grandma, my mom’s, tacos. The shells are from a tiny little Mexican kitchen downtown, that’s how my mom always did it. I think we’re just waiting on Jessica and then we’ll be ready to eat!”

“Sounds delicious,” Jeff sips his drink.

“How’d you guys meet? You look super familiar, Jeff,” my aunt Janine remarks. I rest my head on Jeff’s shoulder.

“It all started when I began frequenting this coffee shop that opened near my, well, OUR farm while on hiatus from work. I couldn’t take my eyes off this brown eyed manager with the messy bun in her hair who would always ring me up and make my drink. Golly, she looked cute in that apron,” Jeff nudges me and everyone laughs as I blush. “I finally had to ask this pretty young thing out. I invited her over for dinner and the rest is history. One year and some change later and I can’t imagine my life with anyone else but my baby gal,” he kisses me softly. “Oh! I’m an actor, by the way. I’m currently on a show called The Walking Dead, I play the bad guy named Negan. A lot of people still recognize me as Denny from Grey’s Anatomy and John Winchester from Supernatural though,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“I knew those eyes looked familiar!” my aunt exclaims. “Wow, girl, a famous actor? Check you out!”

“He’s pretty great. I thought the concept of soulmates was cheesy til this man came along. I mean, nobody’s perfect, but Jeffrey comes pretty darn close,” I rub his thigh under the table.

“How old are you anyway? That gray beard says you’re old,” my 13 year old cousin Alyssa asks.

“Lys! You can’t just say that!” her mom quiets her.

“It’s okay, hon! I’m not offended at all! I AM old, real old. I’m 54,” Jeff laughs.

“And how old are you?” Alyssa turns her attention to me.

“24,” I link my arm with my man’s and nuzzle his shoulder.

“Sooo, you were 30 when she was born?” Alyssa makes a sassy face.

“Don’t push it, little girl,” Jeff teases and we all laugh.

*Jeff’s POV*

“So, this is the man cave, huh?” I glance around at the fishing poles adorning the chocolate brown wall and Chicago sports gear.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice! It gets cold down here, but the fireplace helps!” my girlfriend’s dad Tim tosses some kindling on the fire.

“Super cozy,” I remark. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. I had something I desperately wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to just get right to it.

“How you doin’, bud?” my girlfriend’s grandfather Ray asks.

“Good, Ray! I’m really good, fantastic actually. It feels so nice to be off work for the holidays! Thank you guys so much for welcoming me into your home. Dinner was delicious and the Midwest hospitality is much appreciated.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Tim says.

“This is for you,” Ray reaches into his coat pocket. He passes a CD my way with small writing on the jacket, “To: Jeff. Love, Grampa.”

“Aww, what’s this?” I say, pushing my glasses up.

“Elvis Christmas songs. Something for you and your girl to dance to. You better treat her good,” he smiles his adorable old man smile.

“Thank you so much, Grandpa,” I get up and give him a hug. “You didn’t have to get me anything. So, um,” I clear my throat as I settle into the couch. “There’s something we should talk about. I mean, something I need to ask you. I don’t know, I’m shaky as hell. So, how do I put this?” I pull a small velvet box out of my pocket. “I brought this with me.”

“You want to marry me? Let me go get my dress!” Tim teases. Whew, a joke to break the tension.

“Yeah, totally! I, wow, I’m going to cry. Pull yourself together, Jeff. I wanted to know if I can ask your daughter to be my wife. She’s got me wrapped, man. When I look into her eyes, I just fall in love over and over again. I know it’s old fashioned of me to ask, but I thought I’d do the right thing and ask for your blessing. I love your girl so damn much, you have no idea,” I wipe tears away.

“I had a feeling this would be happening. You kept staring at me all through dinner with this lost puppy look in your eye, like I was going to yell at you or something! Jeff, I see the way she looks at you and it warms her dad’s heart. Every time you speak, she stops immediately what she’s doing and stares at you with hearts in her eyes. I’ve never seen my daughter so happy. Of course you have my blessing.” My heart begins hammering in my chest as my soon to be fiancée’s dad pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you so much, sir! Oh my god, I’m freaking out. Thank you, thank you! So, next question, where’s the best place to propose around these parts?”

“Well, downtown near your hotel on 5th Avenue, it’s all decked out in Christmas lights. Maybe you guys could take a walk down there?”

***

“What a great dinner, your family is so kind and welcoming!” Jeff says as we climb into the warm car. “I love you so much, doll.”

“I’m so glad you had a good time, honey. I knew you would! I love you too, Jeff. I’m so looking forward to the hot tub when we get back to the room, I don’t know about you.” Jeff slides his hand over my upper thigh seductively as I drive through the city in the direction of the hotel. I glance over at my boyfriend and he gives me the sexiest bedroom eyes. I could have just stopped the car and taken him right there. We jam out to our favorite Christmas songs and giggle like kids.

“Fifth Avenue,” Jeff mutters. “Pull over, babe.” I pull into a parking spot and Jeff grabs my face and kisses me deeply, “Let’s go walkin’ in a winter wonderland.” I smile and shut the car off and follow behind him. Jeff’s adorable spontaneity was one of his best qualities. He takes me by the hand as we look at the twinkling lights. There’s no cars on the road and the snow dampens all the sound.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jeff places his hands on my hips.

“Yes?” I wrap my arms around his neck. We hold each other close.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he pecks my lips, I run my fingers through his soft gray hair. “I tried to come up with a long romantic speech, but words are failing me. You’re everything I’ve hoped and dreamed for. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re the reason I can’t wipe this smile off my face. Every time I look into those gentle brown eyes, I’m reminded of why I fell in love with you all over again. A life without you is a life I don’t want to live. You’re my entire world, sweet girl.” Jeff pulls away and reaches into his pocket.

“Oh my god,” I sigh, “Jeffrey, I-I-“ I’m utterly speechless. Jeff brushes away the snow on the sidewalk with his gloved hand and gets on one knee.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” Jeff smiles widely, opening the velvet box and revealing a simple, shimmering band. That man knew me so well, it was exactly the

“Oh god, Daddy! Yes! Yes, Jeffrey, yes I’ll marry you!” I jump up and down excitedly. Jeff’s hands shake as he slides the ring on my finger. I gasp with delight, “I love you. Oh baby, it’s beautiful!” Jeff gets to his feet and rests his forehead against mine as we both cry tears of joy. My breath quavers from excitement and the biting cold as Jeff kisses me over and over again.

“I want you to be mine forever,” he whispers against my lips.

“Forever and ever. Oh my god, my heart is racing! You’re so amazing, I love you so much.”

“I love you the most, baby gal.”

***

Jeff and I could hardly keep our hands off each other as we hustled to the elevator.

“Merry Christmas!” the front desk agent calls out.

“You too!” Jeff replies with a friendly wave. I untie my coat as the door to the elevator shuts. I tangle my fingers in my silver fox’s thick hair and moan as he kisses my neck and pulls down my sweater, brushing his scruffy beard against my chest as he kisses and sucks gently.

“Jeffrey, you naughty boy,” I gasp. His large, slender hand find its way between my thighs. “Please, Daddy,” I whine. Jeff slides his fingers down the front of my leggings. He pulls them out just as the elevator chimes, my face goes red as I readjust my Christmas sweater and Jeff fixes his hair as if nothing ever happened.

“Merry Christmas!” an innocent, elderly Mrs. Claus looking woman greets us.

“Merry Christmas to you too!” I reply, the cool air of the hallway hitting Jeff’s saliva on my chest, causing me to shiver with delight. We laugh to ourselves as Jeff opens the door to our suite. Oh, that poor old lady, I hope she didn’t hear too much.

“Let’s see, how about we celebrate with a drink!” Jeff says with a wide smile, slinging his coat over a chair.

“Hmm, how about something sweet? I kind of want dessert after all those tacos,” I wrap my arms around my now fiancé’s waist as he kisses me, his large hands squeeze me closer.

“Your sweater reminds me, how about a White Russian?”

“I am, in fact, the Dude. One of my favorites,” I reply with a laugh.

“Hmm. Vodka, check. Coffee liqueur, got it. Cream, hmm. Cream, cream, cream,” Jeff taps his chin. “Got it!” he grabs some half and half packets from the coffee station.

“Ah, resourceful! I like that!” I kiss him and sit on the bed, “I’ll get the bath ready.”

I draw the bath and Jeff hands me a drink, setting his on the rim of the tub. He unbuttons his shirt revealing his hairy chest and stomach. He kisses me.

“I love you so much,” he says. “Nice ring you’ve got there.”

“Thanks!” I run my fingers down his chest, “My handsome fiancé gave it to me.”

“He must be a lucky guy,” Jeff’s pants come off and he slides into the tub with a loud groan.

“Jesus, that feels so fucking good,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “Come on in, baby gal, the water’s fine.” Jeff bites his lip eagerly as I take my clothes off. “You’re so sexy, you know that?”

“I could say the same about you, darlin’,” I reply, tossing my bra on the floor. I tie my hair up as my fiancé looks me up and down. I climb in the tub, opposite of the rugged older man that I was so lucky to call mine. Jeff grabs my leg and begins kissing the length of my calf.

“When and where do you want to get married?” he asked with a sly smile, kneading my legs.

“Honestly, I’ve always dreamed of a fall or winter wedding. You know how I feel about hot weather,” I take a sip of my White Russian.

“Babe, it’s too hot! This is stupid! Ninety degrees? Ew, fuck that!” Jeff imitates my whining. I laugh.

“You know me so well!”

“Daddy, I have a headache!” Jeff cackles.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” I playfully splash water in his face with my foot. Jeff sputters.

“I give you shit because I love you!” he wipes his face.

“I know, and I give it right back to you, asshole! What were we talking about again?” I giggle.

“Wedding plans?”

“Oh, right. So, definitely a fall wedding. What about on the farm? Ballrooms have never really struck my fancy. That little area off beyond the pastures would be beautiful, don’t you think?”

“I agree, I don’t need a big gala with a stuffy tuxedo to show everyone how much I love you. Ooh! How about under that big tree where we had a picnic and carved our names?” Jeff places my legs on his shoulders.

“J hearts K, yeah, I remember,” I sigh longingly. “That’s where you first told me you loved me.”

“Aw, it was, wasn’t it? You packed us a picnic and everything! You’re just a regular Ina Garten, aren’t you? Remember me yelling at the dogs to stay away from the alpacas? ‘Guys, those aren’t puppies, they’ll kick the shit out of you!’” Jeff laughs.

“Well, if I’m Ina, you’re Jeffrey! Hey, look at that! It works!” I tap my glass against his. “Those dogs are so cute, but they’re little shits sometimes.”

“Oh, absolutely they are,” Jeff agrees. “Wow, that cute barista who I was scared to ask out is going to be my wife? How did I get so damn lucky?”

“You were scared to ask me out? Why? We would always chit-chat back and forth.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why. I think it’s because I didn’t want to be THAT guy. You know, the guy who thinks the food service worker is flirting with him just because she’s being nice,” Jeff rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t get that impression from you at all! I think you’re sexy as fuck, and have since the day I first met you. If I thought you were a scumbag, I wouldn’t have flirted back. And I wouldn’t have had sex with you on the first date, would I?” I tease.

“You’re right. Man, that was a wild night, eh? My heart still beats fast when I think about it,” Jeff grins. “You looked so damn good in my shirt too. Come here,” he holds out his arms and I make my way to his side of the tub, sitting on his lap. He runs his manly hands all over my body and buries his face in my neck, kissing and moaning, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mrs. Morgan.”

“I love the sound of that. I get to be your wife and I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I love you so much, Jeffrey.”

“I love you too.”

We eventually climb out of the tub, after kissing and laughing and talking til the water turns our toes to raisins. I wrap myself in a fuzzy bathrobe and Jeff quickly does the same. I climb in the big, fluffy bed and Jeff snuggles next to me. He wraps his slender arms around me and I immediately drift off to sleep.

***

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” Jeff’s croaky, sultry morning voice rings in my ears like church bells. He kisses my forehead, his scruff brushing against my skin. I squint my eyes at the bright sun bouncing off the snow and flooding our suite.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I curl up closer to his warm body. I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, “Has anyone told you that you look like Santa Claus with your beard?” I laugh and kiss his collarbones.

“Every damn day on social media,” Jeff chuckles. He moans softly at my touch. I stop and hold out my left hand, my vintage gold band shimmering in the light.

“Just had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” I smile.

“You ain’t dreamin’, sweet girl. You’re going to be my wife,” Jeff kisses me and strokes my hair. He climbs on top of me, our naked bodies still cloaked in the beige comforter. He buries his face in my neck, leaving sloppy kisses.

“Daddy,” I whimper.

“Yeah, baby?” I hold his face in my hands.

“Nothing, I just like looking at you. You sure are pretty. What do you say we have a little fun before going back to Mom and Dad’s?”

“I would want nothing more,” I reply as Jeff pulls the blanket over his head and begins kissing down my body. I giggle with delight as his beard tickles me. Best. Christmas. Ever.

Tag list: @negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes @iluvneganandjamie

[not-close-to-straight]

More Than Words (Twenty-Six)

Peter dives further into research, so this chapter contains the same generic TW as the last one for mentions of the Holocaust and mistreatment/torture of mutants. I had a blast writing some of the history for this verse, and I’m not saying I want to write a Stucky centric spin off based on what I’ve written in here, but like also, I sort of want to write a Stucky centric spin off. 

Also, it ends with a line to make you scream, you’re welcome. 

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

****************

“Pete?” Harry had to put his shoulder against the apartment door and shove to get it open. “Pete? What the heck is blocking your door? Where are you?” 

“I’m here.” Peter hurried towards the front door and pushed boxes out of the way to let the Alpha through. “Sorry, I got busy and all my reading sort of expanded--” he gestured to the entire living room. “--everywhere. Did you bring me the movies?” 

“I brought movies and I brought food.” Harry held up a to go box and then a stack of movies. “But I think you owe me for all the weird looks I got picking out all these titles.” 

“Why were people looking at you weird?” Peter was starving, and he snatched at the food before Harry had even made it to the kitchen, throwing back the lid and exclaiming in delight over the chimichanga inside. “That video store is known for having obscure movies and random documentaries, I feel like these ones aren’t half as crazy as most of the stuff on the shelves.” 

“The Rise of the Squatch.” Harry read out loud. “The Girl from Lava Island. The Creature from the Mines. This one is called ‘What Lurks Within’ and I dunno what that could possibly be about. What’s with all the cheesy monster movies and faux documentaries?” 

“Every crazy story as a little bit of truth somewhere along the way.” the Omega mumbled through a big bite. “The stories that get told over and over had to be true at some point, right?” 

“Uh huh.” Harry said skeptically. “Which is why you had me rent ‘It Came From the Manhole’, right? Because ‘It Came in the Manhole’ was right next to this one and that’s just straight up porn, Pete. It was just porn and I’ll give you a guess which movie case I grabbed for the first time around.” 

“...well was it interesting porn?” 

“It had MANHOLE on the cover, Peter!” 

Peter almost choked when he tried to laugh around a too big mouthful of tortilla and Harry threw his hands in the air in frustration. “I didn’t even realize I grabbed the wrong one until I got to the front and the kid behind the desk asked to see my ID! He wanted to know if I’d need the coordinating magazine!” 

“There’s a manhole magazine?” the Omega asked innocently, and Harry huffed, “If I wasn’t so happy to see you smiling again I’d bite you for that. I had to stand there while some high school senior asked if I wanted to rent a nudie mag to go with my manhole porn. It was the worst three minutes of my life.” 

“But--” 

“Quickly superseded by the look I got from the same kid when I handed him--” Harry checked another title. “--Bagging Your BigFoot: How to Catch the Monster of Your Dreams. Cos that doesn’t make me sound horny for Sasquatch at all.”

“It’s not my fault monster documentaries are always titled to sound vaguely pornographic.” Peter offered his friend a conciliatory piece of chimichanga and smiled when Harry grumbled through the entire bite. “And thank you for getting them all for me. I’ve been so busy lately I’ve hardly left the house at all.” 

“M’just glad you called me, Pete.” Harry leaned in to wipe at the side of Peter’s mouth, and when the Omega didn’t move away, he leaned in closer and placed a very soft, very chaste kiss on Peter’s cheek. “We’ve all been real worried about you lately. I mean we’ve been worried about you anyway but after the other night--” 

“I called you guys to tell you I was okay.” Peter went back to eating so the Alpha wouldn’t see him frown. “You didn’t believe me?” 

“You got so sad so quick Johnny actually threw up.” Harry pointed out and Peter grimaced apologetically. “Calling us two days later to say you’re fine and busy and not to worry wasn’t very reassuring.” 

“Harry--” 

“You’ve said you’re fine every day since you got home from the hospital.” the Alpha continued stubbornly. “And every single time you’ve been lying, Pete. You’re my best friend, we’ve been through everything together. Heats and ruts, AP Chemistry and physics, you were there when my Dad went off his medication for a while and I had to call the cops. What makes you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” 

“...right.” 

“And what makes you think I can’t handle you telling me what's going on?” Harry pressed. “I know Mary Jane is an Omega so you guys do that crazy intimate Omega bonding thing. And Gwen believes in forced cuddles and being there whether you want it or not, and I’m glad you and Johnny figured out what’s going on but Pete-- this is me.” 

The Alpha put a hand to his chest and held the other out to Peter. “This is me and you don’t gotta lie to me anymore. Tell me what happened or-- or tell me why you can’t tell me what happened. Where did you go the other day? What’s with all these monster hunting books and movies? Talk to me, I’m here for you honey. I am.” 

Peter tried to smile and Harry cajoled, “At least tell me why I had to go to the super creepy video store and convince an eighteen year old I grabbed the porn by accident. At least tell me that, I think I deserve to know.” 

“You do deserve to know.” Tears pinpricked behind the Omega’s eyes, and Harry rumbled at him comfortingly. “And I’m sorry I’ve been lying to you lately. And keeping you out of things. I’m sorry.”

“No one’s mad about it.” Harry pulled him in for a hug, holding Peter steady with a hand at the base of his neck and another low on the Omega’s hips. “We aren’t mad, Pete. But we’re worried. And May is worried. And I dunno what to do about it, but I think I’d figure a few things out if you’d just talk to me.” 

Peter was quiet and Harry added, “At least about the Bigfoot thing. Minimum.” 

“Okay.” he nodded into Harry’s shoulder. “Okay I’ll - I’ll tell you.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“...what do you know about mutants?” 

*************

*************

The boxes had arrived the morning after Peter’s heat, appearing in his living room with the same abruptness that Cable used to bump in and out of his life. The Omega had tripped right over the first one on his way out of his bedroom, banged his knee on a second one and by the time the third caught him in the shins, Peter forced himself to stop walking, wake up all the way, and actually look to see what the hell was happening. 

Boxes. Everywhere. Stuffed full to the brim and straining their seams with stacks and stack of paperwork, folders worth of redacted information, books about mythology and epic beasts and folk tales about shape shifters and early gods. 

On top of an an ancient German book of fairy tales was a note:

Find your answers but keep them to yourself. -- C

And then scribbled along the bottom: This should free me from having to answer any questions. I don't give a damn about your curiosity, don't bother me anymore. 

Peter laughed softly and carried the book with him to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Of course the cranky Alpha didn’t want to stick around and answer questions, and while it was thoughtful to the point of being caring that Cable had taken the time to gather this information and apparently drop it through a wormhole into Peter’s apartment, the Omega was more excited by the prospect of reading through files that had so obviously been taken from somewhere secret. . 

The amount of redaction in the few papers he’d glimpsed in a box on his kitchen table was exhilarating, and the publication dates on some of the books meant the stories and legends inside had been accepted as truth for hundreds of years, perhaps even told as fact for thousands of years before that. Cable would have had to snatch the files from secure storage facilities, maybe the mutant had even gone back in time to find the correct information before it had been incinerated like most sensitive documents were. 

The idea of boxes and boxes of dated and perhaps even classified information just piling up in his living room waiting to be read through-- well there was a reason Peter had become a journalist, and it had less to do with working to better humanity and more to do with everything he absolutely had to know. 

And he absolutely had to know all of this, so Peter had brewed another pot of coffee and went right to work. 

It was some point near the end of the first day when the Omega dragged himself away from a file about the LA riots and into a shower. He’d gone to push his hair out of his face and ew his fingers had snagged and pulled hard enough to hurt, the sudden pain made Peter jerk and then oh no he’d gotten a whiff of himself and immediately went to wash. 

The perfunctory post heat shower hadn’t been enough to wash away months of depression, so Peter stayed beneath the water until it ran cold, soaping and resoaping his hair, scrubbing the lather down his body until his skin was pink from the loofah. Then it was his fingernails that needed clipped and filed down a little bit since anxiety had led the Omega to bite them too raged and pick his cuticles to bleeding and if he was going to do that, he supposed he should maybe comb his hair extra well and maybe shave the little bit of scruff he’d managed to grow in the last few months. 

Showered and scenting clean again, Peter went right back to the couch to cross reference some of the information with what he could find online but then fuck he was suddenly starving, when was the last time he’d eaten at all?

Food was ordered and inhaled while the Omega kept one eye on the computer screen and the other flipping through page after page in the file and jotting down every note that came to mind--

--and somewhere along the way, clean and comfortable in his favorite pajamas and stuffed full on delicious food, his mind running a thousand miles a minute on something other than heartbreak--

--Peter fell right the hell asleep, no medication needed, and didn’t wake up again until morning. 

And maybe he wasn’t better but for the first time since waking up in Haven Mercy Hospital, Peter felt like himself. He felt real and he felt normal so he got a cup of coffee and settled back in with a new notebook and pen, opened up a new file and got right back to work. 

That had been five whole days ago, and the Omega had escalated from just reading files and comparing them to online articles to requesting books from the Central library and having them delivered, downloading full texts and printing out hundreds of pages so he could light up the words with neon highlighters so he wouldn’t lose a single bit of information. 

It was hard to sleep with so much to process, but most nights Peter dropped off from sheer exhaustion and slept dreamless for eight merciful hours. His mind came back online razor sharp in the morning, his energy levels rising after a few days of solid sleep and consistent food and even though Peter wouldn’t let himself obsess about the mentions of time travel, he found relief for all his other questions in the hours and hours and hours worth of tracking mutant activity across the last century and a half. 

The Omega was almost positive he’d found evidence of Logan in both World Wars and then shockingly, again in Vietnam. There just couldn’t be too many people with that signature fuck off scowl and the unnerving habit of coming back from seemingly any injury no matter how ruinous. The oldest records were sparse and hard to follow but Peter put the stories together as best he could until he could write the profile of a man-- of a hero-- who seemed to sign up for every fight only to disappear the moment it was over, usually after turning the tide of the battle with some feat that couldn’t possibly be anything other than supernatural. 

There were a few instances that could have been Eddie, could have been the black that existed beneath the mutants skin and dug deep down into his soul. Stories of man eating shadows, of villages terrorized by something that came from the darkest nights, of blood curdling roars and the click clack of too many teeth, of hiss and the sound of liquid as something unknown slinked by filled more than a few books and Peter devoured every word. 

He couldn’t stop himself from looking for signs of Wade, reading and rereading the texts he thought could be about Logan hoping for a peek at a story about someone else immortal, someone scarred, someone they would have thought was a monster with the way his eyes went red and his fangs ran long. 

Not that Wade was a monster, no no no, Peter screwed his eyes shut tight and whimpered into his palm even thinking about people calling his mate a monster but he would read thousands of reports like that if only it meant Wade was still around. 

Five days of intense research had uncovered more information than Peter could have hoped to find in an entire lifetime of searching, but he’d still only barely broke into half the boxes Cable had inexplicably gifted him. The movies were a way to ease the strain on his eyes, to give his brain a break while still staying immersed in the subject of mutants. There were too many parallels between the horrors film makers insisted could be lurking just out of view, and the lists of confirmed mutant powers Peter had either seen firsthand in Haven or found records of in the books and files from the war and the riots. The movies would all be outlandish but they would have a bit of truth somewhere in the hours and minutes of terrible graphics and B-list actors and maybe-- maybe even if there hadn’t been sign of Wade in the files, maybe someone like him would show up in the older films. 

It was worth a try and it was worth the time and when Harry asked Peter to just talk to him, everything Peter had learned in the past several days leapt to the tip of his tongue and damn near spilled out. 

But the information was Peter’s to have, the answers his alone to hoard, so the Omega couldn’t tell Harry everything, he could hardly tell him anything at all, so instead of blurting it all out and waving his hands wildly while spilling his guts, Peter took a deep breath and backed up a step and smiled, “Okay, but this is going to get a little crazy, okay?” 

“I’ve known you forever, Pete.” The Alpha said confidently. “I can handle your crazy.” 

“If you think you’re up for it.” Peter teased gently. “Try and keep up, okay?” 

He couldn’t tell Harry everything, but he told the Alpha enough to explain the piles of books, the reams of paper downloaded and printed off of archives both national and conspiracy theorist-owned, the still growing collection of movies ranging from Men in Black and the Shape of Water clear through to low budget horror films and documentaries lacking any shred of scientific basis. 

Peter showed Harry the wall-size map of the contiguous states he’d pieced together and pointed out the red stars as ‘credible, repeated sites of monsters’ instead of naming them as Havens for the mutant community. He held up vintage comic books about Captain America and the Red Skull and compared it to the very few files he’d managed to dig up on Project Rebirth, showed Harry highly redacted pages and pages of coordinates where Captain Rogers’ plane might have gone down. 

The Omega flipped through no less than a dozen texts that all insisted Van Helsing had been a real life priest turned monster hunter, and another dozen that collectively agreed Big Foot wasn’t actually brown but was somehow bright blue and had definitely been seen wearing glasses on more than one occasion, and one beautifully inscribed religious text that spoke of an African goddess that controlled the weather. 

Peter talked and talked and talked, put in different DVD’s and paused them at specific moments to show Harry where the film makers had seemed to draw their inspiration from these specific stories, and look this one goes back to before white men even came to the continent and don’t you think it could be true if the stories are older than we can document? 

“You’re talking about dragons, Pete.” Harry stared down at a brilliantly colored photo and ran his fingers along the delicate script. “This is-- I mean, no way I speak Chinese but--” 

“It’s Cantonese.” the Omega corrected, hurrying over with another book to show off. “Saying every language that looks like that is Chinese is like saying all the indigenous people are from the same tribe. Different languages, different um-- you know, there’s different tones to the way it’s spoken? And I’m pretty sure I read that they use a different style of characters. More traditional versus a simpler style.” 

“...why would you know that?” the Alpha only blinked at him. “Pete, why do you know that?” 

“Because I need to know.” Peter said quietly, as if that answered any questions at all. “I’ve got to know, Harry. I have so many questions and there’s so much information out there and I have to know.” 

“Alright.” Harry went back to the book again. “So. Cantonese. Why does that matter for dragons?” 

“Because it's older than Mandarin by a couple thousand years, which means this is an older story and I want the oldest ones I can find.” Peter found the page he was looking for and tapped at it triumphantly. “And because it says in your book and again right here, that these-- these monks. Or religious… people. I’m not actually sure if monk is the right word. But right here. A legend about one of them that turned to a dragon to protect the temple and his village. A dragon, Harry. Do you know what that means?” 

“It’s an old story, Pete--” 

“It means that at some point someone saw this guy breathe fire.” Peter stated. “Or call fire. Summon it. Whatever you want to call it. This story is thousands of years old and it’s talking about a mutant.” 

“Okay but--” 

“Right here.” The Omega got another book. “Skinwalkers. Yes, it’s probably some beautiful spiritual bond that we could never hope to understand or whatever, maybe you think it’s hallucinations or whatever But what if it’s a shapeshifter, Harry? What if they are a mutant and there’s been a record of their existence for centuries?” 

“What if they are?” Harry didn’t know if he was intrigued by all the data the Omega was throwing his way, or worried that Peter was so clearly obsessing about something that couldn’t end well. People’s careers had been ruined chasing after mutant-related things, professors barred from universities, law enforcement imprisoned for less-than-responsible actions, chapters about riots and ethnic cleansing pulled from history books. Chasing stories about mutants couldn’t end well, and Harry didn’t know if the trouble it would bring was worth the way Peter’s eyes were lit for the first time months and the way his softly sweet honeysuckle and lavender scent had started to fill the air between them. 

“What if they are mutants, and that kind of--of person has been around for thousands of years?” he asked again. “What does that matter Pete? Why are you so hooked on it right now?” 

“Look at this.” Peter dragged a chart out from beneath an encyclopedia. “Look at this. Back in the forties there was this Project Rebirth and it's rumoured to have created Captain America. Captain America, Harry. And the way they did it was mapping of mutant genes. Tracking people through generations. Hundreds of thousands of hours of work put into this project and after the war ended they just scrapped it, pushed it all away and piled it somewhere in the dark.” 

“Wait so the guy with the shield and the tights from the comic books? He was a real person?” 

The Omega held up a copy the Captain America vs The Red Skull excitedly. “They both were! Captain Rogers and this guy here? The Red Skull? Real people, and they weren’t mutants, they were the product of experimentation with mutants!” 

“The American government doesn’t experiment on people, Pete.” 

“Oh.” Peter’s smile dimmed around the edges. “Of course you still think that.” 

“What?!” 

But Peter was off again, shifting from talking about Project Rebirth to rambling about the riots in the seventies and a lab explosion that hadn’t been an explosion at all and the way storms increased in frequency along the Eastern Seaboard in a schedule that fit oddly in with a traditional school semester and sure, that could be coincidence but what if it was young mutants coming into their weather control powers and they were practicing during school hours and oh Harry! What if--

“Pete. Hey hey hey.” Harry grabbed at Peter when the Omega darted past again, framed Peter’s face with both his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “M’not gonna lecture you about how dangerous it can be to look too deep into what happened to the mutants, and m’not gonna tell you how damn crazy you sound talking about schedules and patterns and conspiracy theories about comic book heroes, alright?” 

“You said you wanted me to tell you--” 

“I did.” the Alpha interrupted. “And I’m glad you’re talking with me Pete, I am. But you gotta tell me, does this have anything to do with what happened to you? Or are you just hyper fixating to keep your mind off everything else, like you did switching from physics to journalism after Ben passed away. Is that what this is? Distraction?” 

“Would that be okay?” Peter squeezed at Harry’s wrist and tried not to let the utter dejection show on his face. “Is it okay if I’m obsessing because I need to focus on something besides what happened to me?” 

“It’s totally fine.” Harry left another one of those sweet, chaste kisses on the Omega’s cheek. “However you need to cope, honey. I’ll sit here and watch bad sci fi films and listen to you draw wild conclusions all day. It’s fine. I’m here for you, I’m willing to listen.” 

“You’re a good Alpha.” Peter swallowed back the immediate protests and the always present threat of tears and smiled up at his friend. “Thank you. Sorry I’m all crazy right now, but this is helping me cope. And it’s better than pills and sleeping all the time, right?” 

“So much better than pills.” Harry agreed instantly. “I’ll turn on some music and order in some more food for later and we can spend a few more hours working this out and then I’ll stay over, make sure you sleep instead of writing books full of theories. I know how you get when you’re like this, you’ll go crazy just trying to get all your thoughts out on paper.” 

“You know how I am.” Another smile, and Peter turned around before Harry saw it fall. “This is definitely not-- not anything real. Don’t worry.” 

Don’t worry. 

It wasn’t Harry’s fault he couldn't grasp the enormity of Peter’s project. The Alpha had been subjected to the same history classes they’d all sat through-- ones that talked about uprisings and violence as if a minority demanding rights was something worth deploying the army to crush. Ones that conveniently dialed down the Holocaust to a few paragraphs talking about the religious groups persecuted but not the mutants, never the mutants. Ones that presented Manifest Destiny and ‘made in God’s image’ as a valid reason to exterminate anyone who didn’t fit the mold or stood in your way. 

It wasn’t Harry’s fault he didn’t understand why Peter was so passionate about it all. The Omega was only telling him half truths after all, changing the names of the Havens to make them just be paranormal sightings, downplaying the significance of Project Rebirth and skipping over the experiments and concentration camps and torture the mutants were subjected to just for a few vials of super soldier serum. 

And of course, the Alpha had no way of knowing Peter cared so much because of Wade, because of Haven, because of Cable and time travel and the ring that never left his finger. 

Harry had no idea, no way of knowing and Peter couldn’t possibly hold that over him, couldn’t possibly be irritated his friend assumed this was all coping-by-obsessing and didn’t mean anything solid and real. 

It wasn’t Harry’s fault, so Peter tucked away his disappointment and decided to just try to have a decent night in with the Alpha. He felt better after heat, after talking with Cable and putting some truth to the emotions building painful behind his heart so maybe he could make it through an evening without breaking down or running away and maybe everyone would believe him when he said he was fine. 

It's fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine. 

And tomorrow after Harry left, Peter would gather up some of his notes and go ask for answers from a man whose family name had been all over the Project Rebirth files, scribbled in margins next to blacked out test results, signed on the bottom of medical release forms and typed at the top as letterhead for some of the most horrifying information. 

Stark. 

Cable had made him swear to only use his answers for himself and not to cause a fuss but Tony Stark had to know something about all of this. The richest man in the city and one of the most influential men in the world had to have some answers and Peter could only hope his previous interactions with the powerful Omega would make Tony more receptive to answering a few questions. 

How involved had Howard been with the soldiers and was Captain Rogers really buried above the arctic circle somewhere? 

...and why were there blacked out test results and bloodwork from May of 1970 stuck between the pages of Howard Stark’s notes?

****************

****************

“Peter Parker.” Tony Stark was the sort of Omega that commanded the attention of every person in any every he entered. It might have his perfectly styled hair and shockingly expensive suits, it might have been the mega watt smile and boisterous laugh, it might have been the weight of money and power around his shoulders or the intrigue of mystery and addiction that scented stronger at the hollow of his throat and curve of his neck. 

Either way, Tony Stark walked into a room and every head turned and Peter was no exception, scrambling to his feet and awkwardly smoothing his clothes down when the intimidating Omega came towards him. 

“Peter, how are you? Heard these last few months have been rough.” Tony clasped both his hands over Peter’s and squeezed lightly. “I’m glad to see you up and around again, ready to write another world changing article? I have all sorts of dirt on Justin Hammer just waiting to be printed.”

“All sorts of dirt, huh?” Tony had the unnerving habit of wearing sunglasses everywhere, even inside, even in more intimate settings and one on one meetings and today was no exception. Peter blinked a few times trying to see past the blue tinted glass to the other Omega’s eyes but was given only the sight of raised eyebrows and a half expectant smile. “Oh uh, well maybe we can print scandalous exposes later. I’m actually here to ask a favor.” 

“Well, I’m still going to hold you to the scandalous exposes.” Tony motioned Peter towards a chair and sat down opposite him. “What else can I do for--” his voice trailed off when he caught sight of Peter’s notebook and the hastily scribbled questions, and when the other Omega leaned in closer to scent Peter, the mood in the room shifted abruptly. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Parker?” Tony asked again, cooler this time. “And why don’t you tell me why you’ve had a recent run in with Mr. Summers?” 

“Mr. Summers?” Peter ducked his head to discreetly sniff at his shirt. “It’s been most of a week, I didn’t realize I still smell burnt. Is it really obvious?”

“It is more obvious to people who don't realize what they are smelling.” The other Omega pulled off his sunglasses and tilted his head, looking Peter over closely. “You aren’t surprised I knew about Mr. Summers.” 

“No I’m-- I’m surprised.” Peter admitted self consciously, “I was more worried about smelling gross in front of Tony Stark. Um. Sorry about that. How-- how do you know Mr. Summers?” 

“You could say we run in a few of the same circles.” the air seemed to ripple, and Peter’s gaze darted to the left when a stainless steel tumbler rattled at the bar. “You don’t become one of the most influential men in the country without knowing a few key players in the game. Why are you here?” 

“I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” Peter settled a notebook and pen on his lap and hesitated, “About Project Rebirth and the role your father played in the experiments. But now I’d also really like to ask you just how much you know about Mr. Summers.” 

“Project Rebirth.”The metal sculpture on the nearby end table slid a few inches forward and Peter took a deep breath in when the other Omega’s vanilla and clove scent flattened towards disapproving “Why are you asking questions about defunct science attempts from the forties?” 

“Because I know it wasn’t just an attempt?” he said carefully. “I know Captain Rogers wasn’t just a good ol’ boy who joined the army and bulked up and went off to fight before selflessly sacrificing himself to save the world. I know there was a -- a process and that it's been scrubbed from history books because it’s considered a failure. But your father--” 

“--was a bastard and a bully, but even he drew the line at the sort of shit they were doing back then.” The pendulum inside the grandfather clock at the wall snapped forward and cracked the glass casing when Tony gripped at the arms of his chair and Peter had the distinct, sudden notion that he could be in danger. 

“Um, Mr. Stark--” 

“Enough.” The Alpha Pepper Potts was every bit as beautiful as her Omega mate and somehow infinitely terrifying despite her sweet smile and slender frame. Her voice was soft but razor sharp all at the same time, and when she put a hand on Tony’s shoulder the noise in the room stopped immediately, the clock settling and silverware stilling and sculpture returning to its original place. “Darling, that’s quite enough.” 

“Ms. Potts.” Tony tipped his head back and trilled at his mate, and Pepper gave him an indulgent smile in return. “I was only going to scare him a little. Just to be funny.” 

“Well no one other than you thinks that little display is funny.” 

Peter stared between them with wide eyes then gaped over at the broken clock and score marks at the table. “What-- what--? Sorry, was that supposed to be funny?” 

“Tony thinks it's hilarious to mess with people who are aware of his mutation but haven’t quite figured out where his talents lie.” the Alpha said blandly. “Though judging from your expression, I think you haven’t figured out that Tony has abilities and he’s being ridiculous for no reason at all?” 

“Oh my god, that’s why you know Cable.” It all made sense in a matter of seconds, and Peter swung from feeling foolish and maybe even a little afraid to suddenly intrigued, and then slightly hysterical at the thought of Tony Stark being a mutant. Tony Stark of all people. Mutant. “You run in the same circles because you both are mutant.” 

“Can’t see any other reason to spend time with the guy.” Tony grunted. “You still aren’t are surprised as I’d thought you’d be.” 

“No, my brain is--” Peter made a gesture around his temples. “But I’ve read so many things in the last few days this is just another insane truth I’ll have to come to terms with later. So um, it’s metal then? Your ability?” 

“Metal and then some. You don’t think I build all those computers and tech by hand, do you?” ” Tony slipped an arm around Pepper’s tiny waist and tugged the Alpha down onto the edge of his chair, turning his head to push his nose into her shoulder for a moment. Pepper kissed his hair immediately, then his cheek and when Tony looked up, his nose as well.  It was sweet to see such open affection between a mated pair, and Peter’s hand went to his scarred bonding spot unconsciously when Pepper nuzzled into Tony’s ear and murmured something adoring at her mate. 

I miss you, Alpha my Alpha.

“How are you then, little love?” Pepper asked softly, and Peter jumped, snatching his hand back to his lap when he realized the Alpha was watching him again. “You don’t just scent like Cable, you scent mate sick. Are you alright?” 

“I um--”

“Not real often a mutant mates a human.” Tony interrupted, his dark eyes flickering electric blue for a split second. “I can scent that on you too. Where’s your mate, Peter?” 

“Tony.” Pepper murmured. “Easy on the child, look at him, he’s miserable.” 

Miserable? Peter tried to smooth down his hair again, sitting up straighter in the chair. He thought he’d been doing better with everything lately, so being told he stank like Cable and still smelled mate sick and miserable stung a little. 

“I don’t want to talk about my mate.” he said softly. “Could we-- could we not do that, please?”

“Very well, Mr. Parker.” Pepper kept running light fingers through Tony’s hair, but her green gaze never left Peter as she said, “But you know, there are only a handful of reasons why you would be researching Project Rebirth, and within those reasons there is only the slimmest chance you’d come across Howard Stark’s name. You need to tell us immediately what sort of questions you are here to ask, and what sort of answers you are trying to find.” 

“I’m not asking questions with the intention of hurting anyone.” the Omega reached up to press at his bonding spot again. “And the answers are only for myself. I swear it. I just want to know. Just want to understand.” 

“Because of your mate.” Tony prompted, and Peter nodded slowly. “What does your mate have to do with Project Rebirth?” 

“Nothing, I don’t think, but I don’t want to talk about it.” the Omega couldn’t seem to stop staring between the pair, taking in Tony’s startlingly blue eyes and the way every bit of metal in the room seemed to tilt to face him. Pepper didn’t seem perturbed by the show at all, and Peter put his questions about Rebirth aside to ask, “Mutants don’t usually mate humans?” 

“Hardly ever.” Tony confirmed with a slight smile. “In fact, I don’t know a mixed mated pair at all, do you, my love?” 

“Not at all.” Pepper’s skin shimmered and shifted across her face and down her neck, along her arms to her fingertips. Scaled pieces clicked together lightly, shining iridescent in the warm lights before melding back to perfectly smooth, there and gone before Peter even had the time to properly gauge. “Peter, you might be the first human I’ve ever met with a mutant Alpha.” 

Peter couldn’t have formed a proper response if his life depended on it, struck silent by the display from the formidable pair, stunned speechless by the way Pepper’s gaze swirled fiery orange before settling back to green. 

“See there, now he’s broken.” Tony scolded his mate teasingly. “All I did was rattle a few silverware, you’ve got him worrying you’ll get scaly and burn him to a crisp!” 

“Hush you.” Pepper warned playfully just as Peter managed a squeaky, “You’re a dragon!?!” 

“Most people assume I’m a snake.” the Alpha’s eyes flickered orange again. “Thank you for choosing something much more beautiful to compare me to.” 

“That-- that wasn’t a yes?” 

“Well it wasn’t a no either.” Tony waved his hand as if dismissing the topic entirely-- as if the topic of dragon mutants could be dismissed-- and leaned forward in his chair to pin Peter with a measuring look. “Now listen, kid. I’m going to be upfront and honest with you, only because you scent like Cable and have an entire notebook full of questions which means you probably know most of the answers I’m going to give you, and simply want confirmation.” 

“Uh, yes sir?” 

“Smart Omega.” Pepper said approvingly, and bent to give her mate one last kiss. “Be nice to him, Tony. He might be brilliant but he is still mate sick, do you understand? Gentle with your words.” 

“You say that as if I am ever anything but thoroughly patient and whole heartedly kind.” The Omega made an affronted sort of noise and Pepper only laughed at him, waved at Peter over her shoulder, and closed the door to the living room as she went. 

“Alright then.” the moment his Alpha had gone Tony straightened in his chair and squared his shoulders, commanding the room again with barely any effort. “Project Rebirth. You know about our frosty friend lost somewhere beneath the ice?” 

“Yes.” Peter checked his notes. “Yes, Captain Rogers. His plane was put down over the Arctic circle.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” Tony pursed his lips in thought and Peter waited only somewhat impatiently for the other Omega to choose his words. “Alright listen. Project Rebirth wasn’t the patriotic endeavor they tried to make it out to be, do you understand? They took in poor kids from the street, mostly mutants but some just human and turned them into lab rats. Took what they needed from one boy, pumped it into another and more often than not, killed both when nothing worked the way it was supposed to. Mixing DNA isn’t a real thing we can do now, there was no way a bunch of hack-job scientists working out of a basement could do it without mass casualties.” 

“...Captain Rogers?” 

“He was the first attempt that worked.” A glimmer of regret sliced through Tony’s vanilla clove scent. “My Dad used to say Steve never would’a signed up for that project if he’d known what was really in the so called super soldier serum. But he didn’t know because no one would ever say and he went from a sickly kid who could barely climb stairs to someone who could lift cars over his head within an hour. An hour. Even by today’s standards those sort of results are amazing, back then it was a goddamn miracle. Steve Rogers was a walking miracle, bought and paid for with the blood of a hundred different innocents and when they realized they’d created a literal god among men--” 

“--they put him in the ice.” 

“Dad stormed off the project when they realized they planned to crash the Valkyrie.” Tony said quietly. “Then he spent the next forty odd years searching for the crash site to try and rescue Rogers. Didn’t ever find him, so he spent any extra time he had searching for the cyborg they’d created after losing Rogers. Not as much is known about that one, but rumours are it was another kid from Steve’s neighborhood. Bright eyed and gung ho about serving and got himself turned into a monster.”

Peter grimaced as he circled the word ‘cyborg’ in his notes and Tony clicked his tongue sympathetically. “They tried it all over again in the seventies, even came to my Dad to help with it but he had his hands full with me so he turned them down. Some bloodthirsty bastard named Striker kidnapped and tortured and killed dozens of mutants trying to find the right amount of powers that could co exist in a body without self destructing. He wanted another Captain America but less along the lines of national hero and more along the lines of personal assassin. He was shut down after a few years, but by that time the damage had been done and all the mutants pretty much went underground. It was easier to hide than it was to stay public and go through all that in another twenty or thirty years.” 

“I found mostly redacted paperwork from May of 1970.” Peter held up a copy of the page. “Is that-- is this you?” 

“It’s probably me.” Tony started forward like he wanted to take the page, but then shook his head and sat back again. “My Dad had my blood tested when I was kid to try and confirm a theory.” 

“What was the theory?” 

The other Omega watched Peter for a long minute before finally saying, “That it skips a generation in males, but the Omegas are always carriers whether the family has a history of mutation or not.”

“Wait. What?” 

“The mutant gene.” The corner of Tony’s mouth lifted in a half smile when Peter started scribbling notes just as fast as he could. “When present in a bloodline, it skips generations between presenting in males, but not females. Pepper’s mom was a mutant along the same talents, so was her grandma and so was Great Granny Potts. My dad wasn’t a mutant, and as far as we know, neither was Grandapa Stark. But male Omegas carry the gene no matter what so--” 

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers and Peter jumped when the metal sculpture closest to him abruptly melted, liquefying into a shiny puddle of silver right there in the center of the table. 

Oh holy shit.

“So I carry the gene.” Peter pointed at himself, swallowing around a little burble of hysteria. “I carry the gene?” 

“Whether you have anyone in your family mutant or not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re not mutant but you’ll still pass it on to any kids you have.” 

Oh ho ho holy shit. 

“My mate and I won’t ever have kids.” Tony said then, and he sounded sad about it. “We always want to think the world has changed and attitudes towards mutants has changed but the fact is, it will never be safe to be us. Pepper and I are on the cover of every magazine, on television for interviews and always at one social event or another. Our kids would be so widely watched that they’d never have a chance to be normal anyway, and when you add in the absolute guarantee of mutant abilities--”  he shrugged. “--it's not an option. We won’t do it to them.” 

Peter tapped his pen on the paper a few times then asked quietly, “Could I ask you what happened when you-- when you came into your powers? Is that alright?” 

“I was fourteen.” Tony launched right into the story, visibly relieved to be talking about something other than all the horrors his kind had been subject to for decades. “I had just gotten accepted to MIT and met my roommate, James Rhodes. The first night I had a nightmare about being trapped and overwhelmed and nervous about starting college and my powers surged while I was asleep. I ended up warping the bunk beds, twisting the metal into pretzels and trapping myself and Rhodey inside the mess.” 

“I woke up screaming.” The Omega’s scent swelled with fondness. “And Rhodey talked me right out of the panic, right through undoing it all, then climbed up into my bed and hugged me tight. I could have killed him when my abilities spiked like that, and by all accounts he should have ran for his life, but he took the time to comfort me instead. He’s an actual saint. A literal angel for putting up with my shit all these years.” 

“James Rhodes.” Peter thought back to the ceremony several months ago when he’d received the grant money from Stark Industries, to the Alpha in full military dress that had been standing next to Tony. “Colonel James Rhodes?” 

“One and the same.” 

“Is he--!” 

“No.” Tony shook his head, adoration coloring his scent warm. “James is wholly human, which is why I’m sure he’s a saint. No one else could possibly put up with me.” 

Peter was quiet, thoughtful as he wrote down a few more things, careful to leave names out of his notes in case anyone came across them later. 

“Your mate is mutant and you smell like Cable.” Tony broke the silence again. “Is there a reason for that?” 

“Yes.” Peter said shortly. “But uh-- it’s not the one you’re thinking.” 

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.” 

“Okay but I promise?” he laughed a little. “I promise that whatever you are thinking about me and Cable, the truth is even stranger. He is not my mate, no way.” 

“Well thank god for small mercies.” Tony nodded. “Be careful down this path, Peter. Not everyone will be willing to talk like I am and most will be angry you’re asking questions at all.” 

“I just want the answers for myself.” Peter repeated softly. “I just need to know, I have to know. I can’t explain it but--” 

“--Do you believe in soulmates, Pete?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, since you’re the first person I’ve ever known who was human and had a mutant mate.” The Omega shrugged, but his eyes were kind. “Maybe soulmates is the only explanation you need for why you need to know everything about your Alpha’s people. Hm?” 

Peter left a few minutes later, stepping out the door with a firm handshake and a smile and the reassurance that he could come back any time, and so long as he was keeping the answers for himself Tony would be happy to talk with him some more.

“He’s so sad.” Pepper curled close into Tony’s arms and kissed her mate on the cheek. “It breaks my heart to see anyone sad from mate sickness, but it’s worse when they are so young. Mid twenties is too early to know that sort of grief.” 

“Mmm.” Tony hummed in agreement and soaked in his Alpha’s scent for a minute. “I know someone who might know what happened to Peter, or at least why he’s been around Cable of all people.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“Well.” The Omega pulled out his phone and scrolled through contacts until he found a number he only called on the rarest occasions. “There’s only one person Cable trusts with his business in this particular timeline, even though I’ll never figure out why. The guy is a literal quack.” 

Pepper chuckled under her breath when Tony dialed the number labelled “Neighborhood Quack” and then laughed louder when the phone answered on the first ring and the initial outburst from the other line was all swearing and various threats about what would happen the next time a Stark called his phone. 

“Always good to hear from you, pal.” Tony said blandly, and on the other line Hank Pym screeched, “Don’t you call me pal, kid. I was teaching doctorate level university classes while you were still shittin’ in your diapers. What in the hell do you want?” 

“Been spending much time with Cable lately?” It took a considerable amount of self control for Tony to not insist he could have taught Hank’s doctorate level classes while in diapers, and his moment of maturity was rewarded by a sweet kiss from his Alpha. 

“I hardly think that’s any of your business!” 

“No?” Tony challenged. “Cos I’ve got an Omega in here stinking like Cable and mate sickness while asking me about mutants and Project Rebirth. You’re the only one that grouch talks to in these parts, so I figured you’d know something!” 

“Well if I knew something I wouldn’t tell a Stark. You’d sell the secrets for petty cash!” 

“Old man, your secrets aren’t even worth the pettiest of cash--” 

“Alright.” Pepper snatched the phone away. “Doctor Pym, this is Pepper Potts.” 

“...oh hell.” 

“Yes, that’s right. I understand you and my mate have some history, but I’d very much appreciate it if you helped me, do you understand?” 

“...yes Ms. Potts.” 

“Thank you very much, Doctor Pym. I’m looking forward to talking with you again later this evening.” 

“...yes Ms. Potts.” 

Pepper hung up and her mate whistled appreciatively. “How on earth did you manage that, my love?” 

“I’m fairly certain my mother breathed fire on him at one point or another.” the pretty redhead said demurely, far too innocent for the way her eyes were sparkling. “Turns out you only have to do that once to put the fear of God into a man.” 

“I love you.” Tony said seriously and the Alpha patted at his cheek and crooned, “I know you do, darling. I know.” 

*****************

*****************

“Harry says you’ve got a thousand books in your apartment.” Gwen shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, then offered Peter a bite as well. “Oh, and he was bitching about you making him rent porn? What’s that about?” 

“For the last time.” Peter took a tiny bite of the heart attack Gwen called dessert and shook his head. “It’s not my fault the video store rents sketchy documentaries right next to the porn. Also not my fault that Harry grabbed the wrong one.” 

“I’m just saying, if there was an Alpha you wanted to pick out porn with, I’m definitely the better option.” 

“GWEN!” 

“I’M JUST SAYING!” The Alpha darted close for a kiss and then held up another bite for Peter. “Eat, pretty Omega. You’re practically skin and bones these days and I miss your butt. Fatten them cheeks up again, kiddo.” 

“You’re being terrible tonight.” Peter informed her. “Honestly just terrible. What’s going on?” 

“Seriously, I’m just happy you called me for ice cream.” Gwen admitted. “Just glad you’re out and around and being yourself again. Sorry if I’m being terrible but I’ve got three months worth of shenanigans to get up to with you, you ready for all this?” 

“Yeah Gwen.” Peter squeezed at the blonds hand affectionately. “I am ready for some shenanigans with--” 

--he stopped mid step, froze halfway between one stair and the next, skin crawling with goosebumps and hair standing on end, breath constricting in his chest and throat closing up until he was seeing spots in front of his eyes. 

“Oh woof.” Gwen inhaled and made a face. “What smells like over ripe Alpha? One of your neighbors in rut, Pete? Or newly mated? No one stays off suppressants long enough to scent that strong unless they are honeymooning. Don’t they know there’s hotels for that? Wow.” 

The Omega didn’t answer, and Gwen snapped her fingers in front of Peter’s face to try and get him to blink. “Pete? Hey, what’s wrong? Alpha scent bugging you? You okay?” 

“I--I--” Peter peeled his tongue off the roof of his mouth and tried again. “I um-- Gwen, you need to go.” 

“I need to go?” she asked in confusion. “You aren’t gonna invite me in? We’re like three feet from your apartment and--” 

“You need to go.” Nothing more than a whisper, but Peter’s dark eyes flashed in determination even as he shoved the Alpha away. “Leave me alone. Please. I’ll call you but you need to go now.” 

“Pete--” 

“I’m fine.” he pushed harder, forcing her down the hall. “Gwen, I’m fine I promise but I need you to leave right now. I’ll call you, I promise. I’ll call you but you have to leave. Leave!” 

Gwen grumbled all the way back down the stairs but Peter tuned it all out. His fingers were shaking as he tried to get the door unlocked, his keys failing once and then twice before sticking into the slot and turning the knob to open. 

His apartment was dark, every light off and every curtain drawn and that wasn’t how he had left it, but Peter didn’t care about that right now, he didn’t care about anything right now. 

He shut the door behind him and then leaned back against the wood, shut his eyes tight and opened his mouth to inhale a scent so potent he could nearly taste it on his tongue, feel it rushing in his veins and settling low into his soul. 

My mate. 

“....Al-- Alpha?” 

And a hoarse voice from across the room, deep and smooth and so so beautiful the Omega’s knees nearly gave out right there-- 

“I’m here, Pete.”

*************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER! (and thank you for all the great comments last chapter! They were all so good and I loved them!) 

************** 

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @ricecakeandhoney @ardatlily @fawnandgays @bluedreamdino @bibbarnes @blackstar1602 @hi-inevitable-im-deadpool @scientifically-lesbian-jesus @the-pagely-gun-slinger @oshuncheyenne @the-dragonwolf-den @pumpkin-spidey @sozvuchiy @cappunico @tired-dragons01 @chiby-chan @ahumoki0 @kanizsacollage @tulipsnbigcats @hiddenaurora @notchronicle24 @marvels-gurl @iridescent-idiot @badndbourgeoisie @eversomniator @local1dreamer @loveisblindwade  @ssssssssssssssssssssslytherin @theunwantedomega @littlepolypan

[clumsyclifford]

every weekend in the winter you’d be wearing my hoodie

hello i am back with more t-shirt ‘verse jalex because i cannot seem to write anything else and also they bring me just IMMENSE joy. so much happiness

this is straight fluff it’s just a shot of fluff direct to the veins it does not pass go or collect two hundred dollars. it’s fluff. also, it was written for the prompt “it’s hand-holding season” but i cannot figure out if (a) i lost the original person who sent the prompt or (b) i just saved the prompt because i liked it and ended up unintentionally prompting myself ???? but either way here it is

title is from nina by ed sheeran great song :)))

(part 1) (part 2)

read it here on ao3

It’s cold outside as the clock flips from 11:59 on November 30th to 12:00 on December 1st, but not cold enough to stop Jack from saying, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Alex looks away from the commercial currently muted on the TV, giving Jack a patented are-you-serious look. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now. It’s December! Happy December! Let’s go for a walk.” Jack gives him a cheesy smile. Alex is not yet immune to Jack’s cheesy smiles and they both know it.

Not for lack of trying, though. “Jack, it’s cold out.”

“It’s only, like…” Jack clicks his phone screen on. “Forty-five degrees. That’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s thirteen degrees above freezing.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Don’t be boring. Be interesting. Be an interesting boy. Come take a walk with me. I’m going with or without you.” He holds a fist up to his mouth as if carrying an imaginary microphone and croons, “With or without youuuuu…”

Alex huffs. “Fine,” he says, smiling and shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you or I wouldn’t do this shit for you, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Jack says, and he does know. He knows he’s lucky Alex loves him. Anyone would be. Jack has never been the type to count his blessings, but he thinks having Alex in his life means he just might start. There must be someone he can thank. Alex is too perfect to just have swept into his life on good fortune.

They grab sweatshirts — Alex takes one of Jack’s and Jack takes Alex’s — and head out the door, down the stairwell, and outside. Jack braces himself for a chilly breeze, but there isn’t one. In fact, it’s kind of nice, actually.

Apart from the way it’s forty-five degrees out. Other than that, it’s nice.

The air is cold on Jack’s face and his hands. He pulls the sleeves of Alex’s hoodie over his fingers, but he can still feel an icy chill settling itself into his bones. Well. Whatever. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. 

Jack looks over at Alex and smiles, almost without meaning to. “Smells like December,” Alex says, before Jack can open his mouth. “Don’t you think?” 

Jack sniffs the air, but it just smells cold. That’s probably what December smells like, he supposes. “Yeah.”

“I bet it’ll snow soon,” Alex muses, arms crossed over his chest. “It smells like it’s gonna snow.”

“What does that even mean? You can’t smell that kind of thing.” 

“Yeah, it’s like metallic, kind of?”

“Snow smells like metal?” Jack raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I thought you were supposed to a be a teacher.”

Alex smacks Jack’s shoulder. “I am a teacher, you moron. Show me some respect.”

“No way. I’ve never had a single teacher worthy of respect.”

“What? Not one? Come on.”

Alex sounds genuinely distressed by the prospect of Jack’s academic experience being one terrible educator after another, and Jack caves. “Fine. I’ve had a few.” He steals a glance at Alex. “All my music teachers have been good.”

Alex smiles widely. “You’re just saying that.”

“Please, am I the kind of person who would ‘just say that’?”

“No,” Alex admits, shifting closer to Jack with his next step. “I’m happy to hear that. Everyone should have a few good teachers.”

“You’re changing lives, Alex Gaskarth,” Jack says airily, reaching with one hand to pat Alex’s cheek, which is partially obscured by the hood of the stolen sweater. “All your students are going to grow up to be washed-up pencil pushers with hot boyfriends.” Alex laughs. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels great,” Alex says. His shoulder brushes Jack’s as he swings his arm by his side. “Why the fuck aren’t we holding hands?”

“It’s cold.”

Alex snorts, which sounds suspiciously like I told you so, but instead he says, “Nuh-uh. It’s December. It’s hand-holding season. If we’re ever going to hold hands, it’s gotta be now.”

Jack huffs, like it’s some huge chore to hold hands with Alex, and pulls the sleeve on his right arm up enough to link his fingers with Alex’s. “No wonder you became a teacher. You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met.”

Alex laughs. His laugh fills so much space. Jack would love to record it and make it his alarm sound, would love to wake up to Alex’s laugh every morning. “If you didn’t want to be cold, you shouldn’t have gone on a walk. In forty-five degree weather.” Aaaand there it is.

“It’s nice,” Jack insists. It is nice. Even with the chill, and even though their surroundings are mostly just more apartment buildings, and even though the artificial light from the street lamps is washing the world in a hideous shade of yellow, and even though every step they take away from Jack’s place means another step they’ll have to take back towards it when they finally turn around, and even though it’s forty-five degrees out…

To hold hands and walk with Alex, anything would be nice. 

“Yeah,” Alex sighs, and he doesn’t even sound disappointed about it.

They’re walking to the school, Jack realizes a few minutes later, and sure enough a couple minutes after that the familiar building comes into view. Jack squeezes Alex’s hand. “Are you allowed to be here on weekends? Like, does that break some kind of teacher code?”

“Yes,” Alex says seriously. “We take the teacher code very seriously. If you’re caught at school during non-school hours you get taken to teacher prison.”

“Ooh, a rule-breaker,” Jack says, grinning. “Very exciting. Lucky for you, I’m amazing at sneaking around school buildings, since it is about ninety percent of what I did in high school.”

“Shocker.” There’s a smile in Alex’s voice. He lifts their conjoined hands to point at the main double doors. “Should we try them? Just in case?”

“You are such a bad influence,” Jack admonishes as they make for the entrance. “What if an alarm goes off?”

“Then we’ll have a story to tell.” And with that Alex marches them up the stairs to the doors and pulls on the handle with his free one.

It’s locked. Obviously.

Nothing happens, so they try the other door, and nothing happens with that one either. Defeated, they both step back. Jack studies the door, trying to see past it, but the halls inside are darkened and the light from the lamps outside reflect too much off the glass to see anything beyond. “I can’t believe I’ve still never been inside.”

“Someday,” Alex says. It holds a lot of promise, that someday. Jack is in love with the idea of a someday, a million somedays with Alex. Of not knowing when someday will be, but knowing that they’ll be together long enough to eventually reach it.

“Someday,” he agrees, looking over at Alex just as Alex looks at him. At this angle, his face is hidden in shadows, so Jack leans closer, smiling like he’s never learned to do anything else. Alex obligingly meets him halfway for a kiss, sending warmth all the way through Jack’s body and momentarily lifting the chill from under his skin.

“We can make out in the music room, it’ll be just like tenth grade,” Jack says, smirking. Alex chuckles, shaking his head.

“I hope it’ll be a little bit better than tenth grade.”

“A little bit.” A lot. A fucking lot. Tenth-grade Jack could never in a million years have dreamt of being so happy right now, with a boyfriend this perfect and amazing. Jack from sophomore year wouldn’t fathom being this in love, enough to be self-sacrificial. 

Tenth-grade Jack was a selfish asshole, though, so he wouldn’t have deserved it.

“Seriously,” Alex says quietly, looking not at Jack but through the double doors. “Someday soon. You should meet the other people I work with, the people in my department and everything. It’s a big part of my life, and I — I want you in it.”

Jack’s heart beats extra hard, although by now he’s used to that as a natural byproduct of being in a relationship with Alex. “I want to meet your co-workers,” he says. “Michael and Calum sucked when I met them, though, so if the rest of them are that bad —”

“Shut up,” Alex says, but he’s laughing, echoey in the small space between them, the doors, and the brick of the building. “You loved Michael and Calum. Anyway, my coworkers are great. You guys will get along.”

“Good.”

“I want to meet your coworkers too.”

“You really don’t.”

“I do!”

“You met Zack already.”

“I haven’t met Luke and Ashton even though you’ve repeatedly told me we’d get along great.”

“I was lying.” Alex makes a disbelieving nose, and Jack smiles despite himself. “Okay, fine. We should figure that out, then.”

Alex hums. “Mm, another time.” He lifts their intertwined hands and loops his arm around Jack, then rests his head against Jack’s shoulder. “You were right. This is nice.”

It’s always nice with you, Jack thinks. He kisses whatever part of Alex’s face he can reach and bites down on a silly smile. “Love you.”

Alex sighs contentedly. They’ll head back in a moment, but Jack is more than happy to stand here and soak up the obvious joy that Alex emanates being somewhere he treasures so much. Even in forty-five degrees, Jack feels warm around Alex, and he suspects that will never change.

[rosedavid]

I love you beary much

A tyrus oneshot

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you all enjoy these two lovesick fools :)

...

It’s a stupid, embarrassing tradition, yet Cyrus can’t seem to bring himself to let it go. Despite its childish implication, the tradition has been around since the very first Valentine’s day he spent with Andi and Buffy. Valentine’s Day boxes were set out on desks, cards and candy being passed around to classmates. Just like everyone else, Cyrus handed out cards to all his classmates, but he had something extra special for his two new best friends: two dinosaur stuffed animals. They were his favorite animals of all time, so of course he had to gift them to Buffy and Andi.

Years later, Cyrus has kept up the tradition with encouragement from his friends. The tradition has extended to their new friends, like Jonah and Amber. Normally, he’s been getting them little stuffed trinkets, knowing that it’s unrealistic to give all of them full sized stuffed animals every year. They seem to appreciate them, at least, so Cyrus planned on doing it again the next year.

Then, he starts dating TJ.

It will be his first Valentine’s Day with an actual boyfriend. The thought that he won’t spend Valentine’s Day as single for once completely blows his mind. For once, he can’t joke around with his friends about being alone and fill their faces with ice cream while watching cheesy romantic comedies. This Valentine’s Day is the real deal.

A week before the fateful day is when Cyrus remembers that TJ has never been involved in the Valentine’s Day tradition. And suddenly, he begins to feel embarrassed about the whole thing. It’s one thing to admit to TJ that he’s slightly obsessed with dinosaurs, but it’s a completely different thing to tell TJ that he has a bunch of old stuffed animals packed under his bed that he brings out sometimes when he’s lonely or scared. Even just thinking about it makes Cyrus go red in the face.

He decides to present his dilemma to Andi and Buffy at The Spoon a few days before Valentine’s Day.

“What are you doing with Marty for Valentine’s Day?” Cyrus presses as he anxiously shoves baby taters into his mouth.

Buffy responds, “Nothing really. We’re just going to order pizza and spend a night in at his house watching epic sports fails clips.”

“Do you think TJ would want to do something like that?” he blurts out, nearly choking on a baby tater. Beside him, Andi pats his back a few times while he coughs.

“Cyrus, you’re like the best gift giver I know. If anything, we should be asking you for advice,” Andi says.

“But it’s different! This is Valentine’s Day. It’s the most romantic day of the year, and TJ is like the King of Romance.”

“The King of Romance?” Buffy drawls skeptically.

“It’s true! For our 1st month anniversary, he surprised me with a picnic at a nearby park that has swinging benches and gave me a scrapbook of pictures of the two of us! And another time, wrote me a composition on the piano. And then--”

Buffy wrinkles her nose. “We get it, TJ is sickeningly romantic. But Cyrus, no matter what you get him, he’s going to love it because it’s from you.”

“What were you planning on getting him?” Andi wonders.

“Well, I mean, I was going to get him a stuffed animal since it’s a tradition, then I was going to make him a music playlist because he loves music so much—but it’s stupid and embarrassing! I mean, TJ probably isn’t even someone who likes mushy Valentine’s Day stuff.”

“Cyrus…” Andi frowns. “Don’t doubt yourself so much. I think that sounds really sweet.”

“What if he hates it or laughs?!”

“Then I’ll punch him,” Buffy interjects.

“Buffy!”

She crosses her arms with a sigh. “Okay, don’t ever repeat this, but Cyrus—TJ is like infatuated with you. I’ve never seen someone look so lovesick before. I don’t think he’d ever make fun of you, unless maybe you got him a piece of rice with his name on it.”

“Hey!” Andi complains, “It was an…. interesting, gift.”

They all dissolve into giggles, and the mood loosens a bit.

“Now that that’s all settled…” Cyrus trails off with a smirk. “What are you going to get Amber for Valentine’s Day, Andi?”

Andi’s face heats up bright red as Buffy joins in on the questioning. It was definitely a mistake to tell them about her crush. 

“Amber probably has like a hundred Valentine’s, why would she want one from me?” Andi groans.

“Because she likes you!” Buffy grins. “Please, Andi, why else would she stumble over her words whenever you’re around? Amber never stumbles over her words.”

Andi shakes her head. “You two are being ridiculous. Amber doesn’t like me.”

Buffy and Cyrus glance at each other, conspiring for a split second before starting to sing. “Andi and Amber sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—”

“Stop!” Andi gasps, struggling to cover their mouths with her hands. “What if she was working? You two are evil.”

“We could continue,” Buffy suggests, “unless you get her something for Valentine’s Day.”

Andi sighs in defeat. “Ugh, the worst part is I already made her something!”

“That’s so cute!” Cyrus gushes. “Your crafts are the best, Andi. If you made it, Amber is guaranteed to love it.”

“Thanks, but enough talk about dating and crushes. How about some tater theatre? I’ve missed it at SAVA,” Andi suggests. Buffy rolls her eyes as Cyrus immediately gets started into a harrowing story. For the afternoon, he gets his mind off of the whole TJ and Valentine’s Day situation. But his worries are far from over.

He manages to find the cutest stuffed animal that reminds him of TJ so much and buys it on a whim the next day. He even manages to finish putting together the playlist for TJ, full of some of their favorite songs as well as songs that Cyrus listened to relentlessly while pining over him (not that he’ll tell TJ that). It all seemed to be falling into place.

Then, Cyrus wakes up the morning of Valentine’s Day, and it all becomes real.

             No matter how hard he tries, his hair won’t cooperate. His favorite shirt has a big stain on it, he stubs his toe on his bedside table, and he can’t find his other shoe anywhere. By the time he gets to school, it’s a miracle that he’s still in one piece (well, mostly, because somehow one of his shoes got soaked through from stepping into a dirty puddle and turned the white material a sickly brown-gray).

             He walks into school and immediately spots TJ chatting with one of his basket-ball teammates. His heart stops as he sees him standing there, a beam spread across his face and a hand ruffling his fluffed up, blonde hair. That’s his boyfriend, and it’s Valentine’s Day, and ohmygodhe’scomingover—

             “Hey, Cy,” he greets. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” A kiss presses to his cheek.

             “H-Hey, Teej,” Cyrus stutters, fingers reaching up to linger on the spot where TJ’s lips touched him. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I uh, I got you something, but if you hate it it’s completely okay because I know it’s kind of stupid, but…”

             He continues rambling as he yanks out the flattened bag from his backpack and ungracefully shoves it in TJ’s hands. He knows the blush is overtaking his face all the way to the tips of his ears but is unable to stop it.

             TJ pulls out the stuffed, orange tabby cat with a heart collar and laughs. Cyrus flinches, because of course he laughed. It’s dumb, and he shouldn’t have gotten it. “I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous. I can take it back—”

             TJ brings it to his chest protectively. “No way! Missy belongs to me, now.”

             “Missy?” Cyrus giggles.

             “Well, she has to have a name! Let me give you my present now.”

             Cyrus’s hands shake as TJ shuffles around in his bag for the present. Finally, he brings out a bag that looks similar in size to Cyrus’s with a sheepish grin on his face. He almost looks just as nervous as Cyrus.

             Cyrus tenderly takes the bag, pulling back the tissue paper to reveal a soft, stuffed bear with the words “I love you beary much” stitched onto the belly. He laughs incredulously, grinning up at an equally smiling TJ.

             “I kind of overheard from Jonah that you have a tradition of giving your friends stuffed animals, so I thought that you deserved one in return.”

             Cyrus can feel his heart beating through his shirt. The smile on his face stretches impossibly wider until it hurts. He clutches the bear to his chest in a similar fashion as TJ did with his stuffed cat.

             “I think I should name him Thelonious,” Cyrus decrees, resulting in a sputtering TJ.

             “Cyrus!”

             “Don’t worry,” Cyrus placates, grabbing his hand. “I already have the perfect Thelonious in my life. I think I’ll name him Sir Bearrington.”

             TJ chuckles, squeezing Cyrus’s palm. “Maybe I should have named my cat Cyrus.”

             “Actually, I got that stuffed cat because I thought it looked startlingly similar to you. Same grumpy expression. If anything, we should name it TJ—”

             TJ cuts him off with fingers tickling into his sides. Cyrus dissolves into laughter, clutching at his stomach while he holds his bear in front of him as a protective shield. “S-Stop! I s-s-urrender!” TJ smiles, pulling back his hands.

             After Cyrus catches his breath, he suddenly remembers the playlist. “Oh, I almost forgot! I have another present for you, kind of. I’ll send it to your phone.”

             Confused, TJ slides his own phone out from his front pocket, opening the link that Cyrus sends a few seconds later. His eyes scroll over it curiously until understanding finally washes over his face. “Cyrus, this is…amazing! Thank you.”

             “Hopefully the songs are alright,” Cyrus says. “Some of them are our favorites, and others are ones that reminded me of you.”

             “You should come over tonight so we can listen to it together, if you want?” TJ suggests. “We could get some food for dinner, too.”

             Cyrus nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds great. Really great, actually.” He squeezes his bear tightly to hold in his excitement.

             With one final goodbye peck, TJ heads off to his first class. As he goes, Missy is still protectively clutched in his grasp. Cyrus holds Sir Bearrington in a similar fashion, thinking of TJ. Needless to say, the stuffed animal tradition will be continuing on for a beary long time.

[shibereshu]

come over — Lee Seungjoon [J-US]

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this is the second part of my lil j-us scenario ! there will be a third and last part, but to be honest, every single part can be read individually because they’re each very... i don’t know, special(?) so they can totally be read on their own. this part is inspired by my little plant that has withered recently so i was feeling a little blue fjdsfkkjdsf i hope you guys enjoy it !! and i’m sorry if it’s so cheesy but i feel like... seungjoon would be a pretty cheesy guy, i don’t know why njdknsfk

You opened your eyes. First thing you did was roll to the edge of the bed next to where your night stand was and on which you had a little alarm clock that marked a little past nine o’clock. You groaned thinking that there was no need to hurry to get up anymore now that you didn’t have to study and tried to find a comfortable position in bed again. But somehow not even the position you were in before you woke up and in which you had been sleeping so deeply just a minute ago let you fall asleep again. You didn’t even really feel sleepy anymore, just physically tired. Perhaps you had gotten too used to waking up earlier to prepare for exams and now your body  kept doing it on instinct.

You finally decided to get up from the bed, hoping that said thought was nothing more than that and that hopefully the next time you would be able to sleep for a little longer and get back the hours of sleep that you had sacrificed for your exams lately. You rolled up the blinds to let the light in but squinted your eyes a little as you did it to make sure you would slowly get used to the new brightness in the room before fully opening them again.

Once you did that, you grabbed your phone that you had left on your desk and turned it on. The first thing you saw was a notification of a text from Seungjoon. You wiped your eyes with your hands and blinked the blur away before re-reading the notification.

“Good morning! Do you have any plans for today? If not… Wanna go somewhere together?” The text read, and you took a deep breath that you held in as you processed it. Was he asking you out? Just the two of you? Could you say it was… a date? Your heart started beating faster and faster as you typed a reply, and you wanted to quickly find Kee and tell her about it, but before that you quickly looked through your other notifications; the one right after Seungjoon’s text being a reminder you had set for yourself to check if your cactus -that Kee and you would often jokingly refer to as ‘your child’- needed to be watered.

You walked out of your room and saw that the door to Kee’s bedroom was open. Taking a quick peek inside, you saw she wasn’t there. As you made your way to the living room to check on your little plant, you passed by the closed door of the bathroom, from which you could hear the sound of the shower running. Now that you knew where she was, you decided to make time to wait for her while watering your plant. With a smile on your face that didn’t do justice to the joy that you truly felt inside, you walked into the living room but froze in your spot when you looked at your plant.

Deep inside, you knew the truth, but still you slowly got closer and checked what had happened, thinking maybe it was just your imagination, that you saw something that wasn’t actually there, or that something was wrong but it wasn’t anything too bad. But none of those were actually the case. Just at that moment, you heard the door to the bathroom open and soon Kee walked into the room, drying her hair with a towel.

—”Good morning!” —She said, but quickly became concerned when noticing your saddened expression and before she could ask what was wrong, she looked at the plant the two of you had done your best to take care of and that was… To put it simply but not very aggressively, in no need to be watered today or ever again.

The two of you made eye contact again, this time the sadness in her eyes mimicking yours as you sat on the couch and let out a long sigh. She took a seat right next to you and she rested her head that had the towel wrapped around her hair on your shoulder.

—”We tried, I guess…” —You whispered, and you felt Kee nod.

—”Next time, we’ll do better! We won’t make the same mistake and we’ll take care of the plant better.” —She said, trying to see some kind of positivity in the situation, this time by taking this as another experience you two could learn for the next time you decided to buy a little plant friend. But you sighed again.

—”I don’t even know what we did wrong, how are we going to make sure we won’t do it again?” —

—”We’ll be more careful, and it won’t happen.” —She kept trying to assure you, and you ended up just nodding in agreement. To be honest, you didn’t really feel like buying another plant any time soon, but you’d learn the lesson for whenever you decided to do it.

Just then, your phone vibrated in your hand with a new notification and you looked down to see what it was, Kee doing the same thing out of curiosity. Seeing it was a text from Seungjoon, Kee squealed and took a more comfortable position on the couch, asking you to open the text. Deciding to think about how nicely your day had started with Seungjoon’s previous text instead of the little bad news you just faced, you smiled and tapped on the notification to open your chat with Seungjoon. While letting her read the first message he had sent, you just read the last one. She squealed again and grabbing your arm, she softly shook you a little with excitement.

“Great! Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll go pick you up hehe” You could almost see his smiling face just from the little smiley emoji he had added after the message, which made you smile too.

—”You two are going on a date!?” — You giggled shily, which made you even more embarrassed because you were aware of just how much you sounded like a lovesick girl and not like the composed adult you were supposed to become one day, but you just decided to enjoy the good feeling and not think about that at least for the time being.

—”Yeah.” —Kee clapped her hands a few times, still full of excitement before she got up from the couch and grabbed your free hand, pulling you up as well and dragging you back to your room.

—”I can help you choose what to wear!” —She offered, and you felt good about seeing her being so genuinely happy for you. Just like you had been with her when she announced that her and Joochan had officially started dating the morning after you had to sleep over at Seungjoon’s dorm.

Still smiling but not yet feeling the pain on the corners of your mouth from doing it too much, you opened your closed and looked for some of your favorite clothes, taking them out and carefully placing them on top of the bed. Kee looked at them and sometimes made comments on some of your clothes that you took out that she especially liked. Then you took out one shirt you had bought recently because you found the summer colors of it very nice and the shirt itself very cute overall.

—”You haven’t worn this one yet, right?” —Kee asked, pointing to your new shirt, and you nodded.— “Why don’t you wear it today?” —You looked at her, then back at the shirt and then nodded, picking back the other shirts you had taken out and putting them back in their place.

Faster than you had anticipated, you were done selecting what you wanted to wear and grabbed everything you needed to take a shower and get ready before texting Seungjoon to let him know. Shortly after sending it, the application showed that he had read your message and he answered that he was ready too and so he would go out and pick you up at your door.

The walk from his dorm to yours was, obviously, less than a minute, probably even less than half a minute, yet it still felt like an eternity of suffering from the anticipation, from wondering if he would compliment you when he saw you, from the worries of how it would go, if mayhaps you were getting ahead of yourself by considering this a date instead of something purely platonic. Before you could find more things to panic about and more reasons to do so, the doorbell rang and you waited a few seconds even though you had been standing near the door before opening up, all to try and pretend that you hadn’t been impatiently waiting for that moment.

You two shared a big and yet somewhat timid smile when you made eye contact, and Seungjoon took a quick look at you before making your heart flutter with the sweet words you should be used to from someone as kind as him.

—”You look really pretty.” —You threw the compliment back at him since he also looked really nice himself, but that was the usual with him, at least in your eyes. Before you two could leave, you told Kee goodbye and she told the two of you to have fun with clear excitement in her voice before you closed the door and walked out of the building with Seungjoon. You kept trying not to look overly excited, but then there was your roommate being quite obvious with that feeling. It made you think that perhaps it wasn’t as bad to let Seungjoon see that you were actually really happy that he had asked you out, so you turned to him and asked if he had any plans for the day.

—”So? Do you have any plans of where to go?” —Seungjoon hummed as he thought about it, but from his answer you suspected that maybe he hadn’t just come up with the idea and instead had decided on it beforehand.

—”What about going to the aquarium? I’ve actually never been to the one in this city.” —

—”Me neither! Usually I was too busy with uni to even have a chance to go.” —He felt the same way and you two shared your feelings of both being stressed from having so much to do for class but so little time for it, and kept talking about how now that finals had just ended your minds were still getting used to the abundance of free time and sometimes even instinctively told yourselves that ‘you should be studying’ when actually, you didn’t anymore.  After laughing about it, you admitted; — “I’m excited.” —

Seungjoon smiled at you and then you felt his hand softly brush yours as you walked beside each other. You didn’t look down but instead kept the eye contact, your gaze showing your surprise as he interpreted the fact that you didn’t pull your hand away as a green light to first grasp your hand in his before lacing his fingers with yours. It was the first time you two had held hands, yet it felt so comfortable, and… so natural. And at the same time, so dreamy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing with no words that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing and already looking forward to the next time you two could do something like this again and you could hold his hand.

Neither of you said anything about why you were doing that, about why you weren’t pulling away, about the unspoken giddy feeling bubbling inside both of your hearts. Instead, you kept casually talking about whatever topic that came to mind, like Seungjoon’s first experience at a cat café that he was reminded of and shared when the two of you walked past one. You said you had never been to one, to which he suggested that you should go if you ever had the chance.

—”Maybe one day we could go together.” —You gathered your courage to say, and Seungjoon excitedly agreed and said he was already looking forward to it.

The aquarium was a little far from where the two of you were staying, so he checked to make sure of which bus you’d have to take to get there and coincidentally enough turned the corner to the street where the closest bus stop was to see the one you needed stopping at it. There was only one person getting on so, afraid of the driver leaving the two of you behind, Seungjoon tightened the grip on your hand slightly and the two of you ran to get on before it could close the doors and drive away.

—”We’re here!” —Seungjoon exclaimed and you laughed at his excitement, at the same internally laughing at yourself for ever thinking of trying to look composed and not too excited when Seungjoon was opening his heart to you and showing that he was happy to be there with you.

You looked down at your hands still linked together. You had to let go to pay for the bus ticket, but he had quickly and casually reached for your hand again as soon as you two had put your wallets back to where you had them before. Once he started walking towards the counter next to the entrance to buy your tickets you looked back up. When you paid for them, Seungjoon grabbed them and you grabbed one of the fliers with information about what they had, some schedules of certain acts as well as a map of the place that looked kind of confusing but once you walked inside the building, you saw they also had indications to get to different spots there so that should probably be enough to guide you.

Seungjoon’s little gasp made you follow his gaze and your eyes landed on the glass walls behind which many colorful fish of different sizes swimmed around. You two walked closer to the crystal and looked up to the fish swimming nearer the top of the tank, and then down to see a manta ray resting on the surface of the sand. When you turned your head to look at Seungjoon, you found that he was already looking at you and couldn’t help but wonder if he thought you looked as beautiful as you thought he did right then, with the dim blue-ish lights of the room shining on him and his gentle smile making the atmosphere feel just so right.

Neither of you said anything and just let out a short chuckle before he turned his head again to read some of the indications on the walls, focusing on the one that had an arrow pointing to the door closest to the two of you along with a small white silhouette of a penguin. He looked back at you and asked if you wanted to go there, to which you nodded.

You had so much fun, you didn’t even know if you would remember the details of everything to tell Kee about them later, as she made you promise she would after receiving a text from her while you and Seungjoon were eating lunch at the restaurant right next to the aquarium but that was part of it. He had asked you what you were laughing at as you tried not to giggle at all the texts she kept sending, one after the other, saying how she hoped the date was going well, that you two were having fun and holding hands a lot to compensate all the time you hadn’t done that before. As much as you tried not to laugh, the smile was showing on your face. If you had told her that you two did indeed hold hands pretty much most of the time, you didn’t think you could take the amount of excited messages you would receive, you settled for a short reply telling her you’d text her later, and that was when she asked you to promise that you’d tell her how it went once you got home.

You didn’t tell Seungjoon what the messages said but told him it was just Kee sending you quite a lot of messages, and he laughed, mentioning how Joochan hadn’t even read his text where he told him that he was going to go on a date with you so that he didn’t wonder where he was when he got home from visiting his parents. You almost missed the last part of what he said after hearing him refer to this as a date. Just when you thought the day was already good enough getting asked out by Seungjoon, it got better, now you could be sure that you were completely right to think of this as something more special than just a hangout between two good friends.

When he asked if he could try the food you had ordered, it reminded you of the day he had picked you up after your last exam with drinks from your favorite coffee shop and you had tried each other’s drinks. You said yes and waited for him to take a bite of it, but instead of doing that, he playfully leaned forward a little, resting his elbow on the edge of the table and then his chin on his hand, opening his mouth a little but closing his eyes.

You were glad he closed his eyes and couldn’t see the way your face got all red, which you guessed had happened in less than a second judging from how suddenly you could feel the heat rising to your face. However, he didn’t have his eyes closed long enough not to notice, opening them once you took a piece of your food with your chopsticks and carefully placed it in his mouth. Although you could see his small smirk, he didn’t say anything about your blushing face and started chewing once you pulled your chopsticks away and back on your plate and you heard him hum excitedly at the taste. He then asked if you wanted to try his, which you did, yet you felt too embarrassed thinking of doing the same thing he had done. You grabbed your chopsticks but before you could do anything with it, Seungjoon got some food with his and slowly extended them a little closer to your face. You pressed your lips together tightly for a second and before finally letting out a shy giggle, opening your mouth and taking the bite of his food.

He laughed at your reaction, and a little more when you whispered how cheesy he was.

—”Do you hate it?” —He asked, but from the way he said it, it was clear he already knew the answer was a no. So you didn’t say anything and just laughed again, shaking your head a little before going back to eating your food, looking forward to what the rest of the day would bring.

Luckily for your heart, nothing much happened afterwards. You two kept walking around the aquarium hand in hand, visiting quite a few rooms more than once and laughing every time you’d pass by the room with the sharks while talking and, Seungjoon, way too distracted with what he was saying, would fail to remember that a few steps into the room a realistic-looking video would be projected on the wall in front of the two of you and showed a shark crashing onto the fake glass wall as if to break it and attack the person in front, with the sound of the crystal shattering playing with the video too. He’d let out a scream and get startled every single time no matter how many times he had sworn not to fall for it again before. The first time you had been quite startled too, but at this point it was just funny and if it wasn’t by the faces he made and his high pitched scream you’d think he was doing it in purpose. Your stomach hurt from laughing so much and Seungjoon whined, embarrassed and asking you not to laugh at him anymore. You apologised even though you knew he didn’t really mind that you laughed but still took a few more seconds to fully calm down.

Your phone vibrated and when you took it out of your pocket with your free hand to check what the new notification was, you realised it was once again the reminder to check if your plant needed water. You had set it so that you would have to tap the notification and confirm you had checked just so that you wouldn’t forget about it later, except that because of what you had seen when you went to check that morning, you had completely neglected the reminder.

Seeing it immediately brought your mood down, and you hated it for affecting you enough to so abruptly ruin your happiness after a great date with the person you had liked so much for who knows how long. Seungjoon seemed to notice the sudden shift in your expression, but didn’t say anything because you spoke before he could.

—”It’s so late already… Maybe we should go home?” —He stood silent a few seconds before nodding and walking with you towards the exit of the building. You were aware of how your sudden behaviour was bringing down Seungjoon’s joy too. You felt bad and tried to just act normally, but Seungjoon didn’t take it.— “I’m glad we got to see everything, it was a lot of fun.” —

—”Are you okay?” —He just asked and stopped walking to look at you properly. Your eyes met his and you instinctively looked away before responding, too embarrassing to even admit the nature of your sadness. Because he could perfectly think it was dumb and childish, and you wouldn’t blame him for it. But still, you couldn’t stop it from affecting you.

You remembered how excited you had been the day Kee got home holding a little pot with the small cactus in her hands, although also a little surprised that she bought it considering the two of you had said you didn’t really feel like taking care of a plant ever again after the last one you had. Of course, it was nothing like a person, or even like a pet, but still, it was a living being and you couldn’t help but feel terrible at how you weren’t able to take proper care of it and therefore caused it to wither.

You shily admitted to Seungjoon what the problem was, your voice almost a whisper, and told him that the reminder on your phone had definitely met its purpose and made you remember the whole thing. At the silence, you forced out a short laugh and tried to lighten up the atmosphere, instead just sounding like you were trying to convince yourself of your words instead of him.

—”I know it’s nothing, I’ll be over it in no time, it’s just a plant after all…” —

Seungjoon started walking again, this time to one of the resting rooms in the aquarium where people could sit on any of the couches and just look at the fish behind the glass walls and over the crystal ceiling while taking a little break. He sat the two of you down on one of the couches and then reached towards your free hand with his so he could grasp both your hands in his.

—”You don’t need to say it’s nothing.” —He finally responded, his thumbs slowly caressing the back of your hands. Still not able to meet his gentle eyes thinking you would end up tearing up if you did, you looked down at your lap and your hands, taking a deep breath.— “I’m sure you did your best, so I hope you don’t think that it was your fault that it withered.” —You nodded. It would probably take you a little to fully accept that, but you were thankful to him for saying it.— “You know what? Recently, I heard that apparently plants like it when they hear people talking.” —

You finally looked up and gave him a little smile that didn’t manage to fully hide that you were still a bit sad, even so you felt better since he listened to you and instead of thinking it was a childish thing to be so sad about, he was trying to cheer you up.

—”Where did you hear that?” —You asked, and Seungjoon chuckled when he remembered the answer.

—”Actually, I don’t know if you remember my friend Changyoon, but I caught him talking to his plants once.” —You laughed a little and so did Seungjoon.— “He got super embarrassed when he saw I was there and kept saying that plants like it when you talk to them, and I thought it was really funny, but maybe it’s true.” —

—”Maybe I will have to try it.” —You joked, although you would maybe actually try it the next time you felt ready to get a new plant. Seungjoon agreed to your idea before suggesting another one himself.

—”Actually, I was thinking of buying a plant for my room at my dorm. When I do, I will tell it about today!” —You laughed again thinking he was saying it more as a joke than seriously and you got almost a little embarrassed from feeling touched by what he said. You were still afraid of tearing up in front of him but you looked up and finally made eye contact with him, who smiled at you as sweetly as he usually would and whose eyes cutely crinkled slightly from his smile pushing his cheeks up.

—”Thank you for today.” —You admitted, and paused for a second before continuing.— “This really cheered me up. I had a lot of fun, and I hope we can do it again sometime.” —You looked around the room that was completely empty except for Seungjoon, you, and the colorful fish that swam around the two of you behind the glass. Everything started to feel more peaceful again, and you really owed it all to Seungjoon.— “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have probably spent most of my day sulking in my-” —

In what felt like less than a second, Seungjoon let go of your hands to softly cup your cheeks. Making you face him again, he leaned forward and your lips met his. Your eyes widened for an instant as you tried to acknowledge what was happening, and then closed your eyes. There was no sadness, no feeling other than that of Seungjoon’s lips softly caressing your own and your heart beating as lively as his.

[pennylanefics]

Soft Alphabet - John “Maz” Mazetti

a/n: no one asked for this, and i know it won’t get much notes, but oh well

•••

A - Affection (how do they show affection)

maz shows his affection with words. he’s not afraid to tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him. he has a way with words, and anytime he says something to you, it’s always so beautiful and sweet. and he looks into your eyes every single time he tells you, wanting you to know how much he means it.

B - Balance (how do they balance you, work/school/life?)

sometimes, he has so much going on with school, baseball, work, that he rarely has time for you. but, he always made it his priority to call you at least two times a day, once in the morning, and once before going to bed. he hated that he was basically neglecting you and your relationship, but you assured him that you knew he was busy and had important things to do. in the times that he was able to spend with you, he made sure you felt loved and cared for every second.

C - Cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling? what positions?)

maz is all for cuddles. when you’re upset, when he’s upset, when he’s tired, when you’re tired, basically any chance he gets, he wants to cuddle. he loves the closeness and just being with you; you play with his hair when he cuddles up next to you, so that’s always a bonus. the way your hands thread through his hair relaxes him.

D - Date (what was your first date?)

your first date is to his favorite ice cream parlor. he pays for yours and any extra toppings you want. you enjoy the cold treat in the park close by, chatting over common interests and getting to know one another better. he can’t help but do the cliche “you have some ice cream on your lip” and rub his thumb along your bottom lip, making you blush deeply. he thinks it’s absolutely adorable when you get all shy and flustered, so he tries to do that as much as he can.

E - Excited (how excited do they get when they see you/are with you?)

he gets way too excited when he sees you. he’s all smiles and giggles and kisses, keeping you close to him as much as he can. he hates being away from you so when he finally ges to be with you, he’s so extremely happy and loving.

F - Fighting (what happens when you fight)

it can get bad. maz has a short temper, so things can blow up easily. if you happen to upset him, he gets so angry, it actually scares you sometimes. but as soon as he sees your terrified expression, he stops and pulls you in his arms. if he pisses you off, the fight can last for hours. you are usually the one to walk away to keep it from getting too too far.

G - Gorgeous (pet names. what do they like to call you? what do they like to be called?)

he keeps it simple. babe, baby, sweetie, honey. i feel like he hates the more cheesy and cliche nicknames like cupcake; he sometimes throws in a princess just because he feels like it fits you. there are times where he makes up random nicknames with your name. you mostly call him maz, johnny, and on some occasions johnny boy, along with the same pet names he calls you. you use the latter when you want to mess with him.

H - Hi (first time meeting)

you two had a class together and he always thought you were so cute, but he never had the guts to talk to you. one day, he sees you talking to a friend, who happens to be a guy, and he gets a little jealous. so, that’s when he makes his move and introduces himself. he’s so shy and nervous, but he’s able to get his words out; he asks you out for some lunch after the class ends, and you agree.

I - Intimacy (how romantic they are)

maz is SO FUCKING ROMANTIC, I SWEAR. if you’re having a dinner date at home, he does up the dining room, putting down a tablecloth, bringing out the nice dishes and wine glasses, with the best wine he can get, setting roses in the middle and candles around the room with the lights down low. he’ll also randomly dance with you, playing some soft music, or nothing at all, and sway side to side, holding you in his arms.

J - Jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they react to you being jealous)

i feel like he doesn’t get jealous too often, but he has his moments. even with his own teammates, he sometimes gets a little worried when he sees you chatting with dells, laughing loudly and having a good time. he knows that you’re friends with them as well, but his mind wanders, so it’s hard to keep some emotions at bay. you, on the other hand, rarely get jealous. he is always telling you how much he loves you and how much he cares for you, so when he’s talking to another girl, you know all he’s thinking about is you, so you have nothing to worry about.

K - Kisses (where do they like to kiss you/how often?)

maz LOVES kissing you. in private, he kisses you all the time, on the lips, on the cheek, the forehead, your temple, anywhere. but in public, he’s a bit more reserved. sure, he loves to show people that he loves you, but he thinks kissing is a more intimate act (as cheesy as it sounds), so he’ll give you short, sweet, and light pecks if you’re around others. but at home? hard, passionate kisses are where it’s at.

L - Love (when was the first time they said i love you or realized it?)

maz is the first to say it, and he realizes it two months into your relationship. you spent the first two months talking every day, so he had no second thought as to if he loved you or not; it was a huge yes. but he waited to tell you, mainly because he didn’t know how you were going to react and if you even felt the same way. on your five-month anniversary, he finally tells you, and thankfully, you feel the same. he is so relieved and happy, he attacks you with kisses after.

M - Moving in (when do you decide to move in together)

he gets in a huge fight with his dad, leading to him spending a few nights with you. during those nights, the conversation of moving in together comes up many times. you two talk about it a lot, and eventually decide to go through with the idea. you’ve been dating for a couple years at this point, so it also feels like the right time to.

N - Newborn (their reaction to starting a family)

when you first tell maz you’re pregnant, he’s scared. yeah, he loves kids and he’s good with them, but he’s so nervous about becoming a dad and doesn’t think he’ll be good enough. but as time goes on, and the more your bump starts to grow, he gets more excited and ready to be a dad. he’s always talking to your bump and rubbing it, he buys random clothing after finding out the sex, he’s just so eager.

O - Open (how open you are with one another)

you both are pretty open with one another. from the start, you were a bit shier than him, but he brings you out of your shell and you eventually feel comfortable enough to talk to him about anything, including your emotions. he knew in the beginning that you were a person he could trust, so he has always been willing to share his thoughts.

P - Photos (what kind of photos you take of them/they take of you)

maz is always taking photos of you. you make him happy and he thinks you’re beautiful, so why not take photos of you? it can be things as simple as you making breakfast or taking a nap, or watching a movie. his favorites are candids he gets of you either before or after he takes a picture. your phone is filled with photos of him during games, since you love seeing him in his uniform, doing what he loves.

Q - Quirks (what random habits do you have that they love or hate/vice versa)

maz can be a bit short tempered, which is a problem for when a fight breaks out between you two. he can get very angry in such a short span of time. but you love how loyal he is to his friends, family, teammates, and you; he will do anything for the ones he loves. on you, he loves your odd sense of humor and the fact that you will laugh at something because it’s so ridiculous, but he hates that you’re a bit of a neat freak; you’re always cleaning his room and sometimes refuse to hug him after a game until he’s taken a shower. he understands, but he’s the total opposite, so of course you’re going to clash.

R - Recovery (how you help them after an injury/vice versa)

he gets injured a lot. like a lottttt. you feel as if you’re constantly taking care of him. thankfully, most of his injuries are minor, nothing too serious like fractured or broken bones; mainly large bruises, cuts, scrapes, rolled ankles, twisted wrists. he tries to act like he’s not in any pain, but you can always tell in his expressions. you stay by his side, trying your best to help him feel better.

S - Solution (how they resolve fights)

he is personally more of a “let things pass” instead of working it out, which causes more stress in your relationship because he never wants to resolve fights. he feels as if talking things through, it will just lead to another fight. you almost have to force him to make up after a bad fight because otherwise he’ll let it go and things won’t get fixed. but after he sees how genuinely upset you are, he breaks down and will talk over anything you want. if he scares you during a fight, he drops everything right away and just hugs you tightly.

T- Touch (when they need/want your touch, what will they do? how often?)

when he’s upset, he needs your touch. whether it’s a simple hand hold, or holding him in your arms tightly as he cries, the feel of your hands on him calms him down in ways he doesn’t even understand. there’s something about how soft yet firm your touch is, he loves it so much.

U - Up ( waking up with them)

there are times where maz has to be up early for practice and games, so he’s used to being up before you. meaning, you don’t get to see him fast asleep often, unless he’s passed out before you. but the times that he gets to sleep in, you wake up before him and just admire his sleeping figure, stroking his cheek and playing with his hair. you always end up waking him accidentally, but when he sees you, a huge smile is already on his lips, giving you soft, lazy kisses all over your face.

V - Vacation (where they travel with you)

he brings you when he has games away from new york. whether that’s to maryland, or to california, or even missouri, you go with him. he always makes sure to find a little time to explore the city together and be with one another. but when he has time for a real vacation, he lets you pick where to go; the first vacation you took together was to disney world in florida.

W - Wedding (how they propose/where you get married/honeymoon)

he proposes after three years, though he wanted to do it much sooner. it was super romantic and private, at the baseball field of course; he planned a picnic in the outfield with food from your favorite restaurant and your favorite dessert, then you stargazed together after he proposes with a long, thoughtful speech. the wedding is similar, just close friends and family for a simple yet sweet ceremony.

X - X-factor (what about you captivated them?)

your love for baseball. the sport is basically his first love, so the fact that you like it made him fall for you even more. he loved that you two could talk about the teams you liked and go on and on about recent games and the decisions the coaches made during them. it makes dates so much more enjoyable, and you sometimes get a bit competitive with one another while watching games with the opposing teams you like (go cards! :))

Y - Yawning (how they act when they’re tired)

maz is SO SOFT AND NEEDY WHEN HE’S TIRED. like he gets super clingy, wants to be cuddled up next to you under a cover, even if it’s a bit too warm. he wants to be as close as possible and will do anything to be by your side. you usually play with his hair subconsciously, so when you forget, he quietly begs you to, with his eyes lidded and shoulders dropped in exhaustion. you tell him to get some sleep for a bit, and that’s exactly what he does, his head resting on your shoulder and his arms around your waist.

Z - Zzzz (how you fall asleep together)

he has to have you in his arms. no other way. whether it’s spooning, or you cuddling up next to him, or him cuddling up with you, he has to be close to you. he just loves the way your bodies fit together and how warm it can get, especially on days when it’s really cold. also the comforting touch of your skin on his makes him so sleepy and puts him to sleep right away.

[doctorgerth]

Here i am, coming out of my shyness, leaving my anon mask behind 😈 I've been feeling a little down lately so i'd love something sweet, fluff, with Shanks, but still romantic. Maybe how we get together? Like, how it gets serious, a confession, something like that, but whatever you feel like will be good 🥰 (Teal anon, you can call me Liru too) Thanks for all your work!!! 💕✨

Shanks is...a goofball when he’s drunk. And just such a cheesy man in general. At least in my head anyway lol I had lots of fun writing for him. I don’t get to do that a lot, so thanks for this request! Hope you enjoy and that it helped cheer you up a bit! Proud of you for conquering your shyness 😋

"Liru, c’mere.” Shanks motioned for you in silly manners and you knew well enough that he was drunk. Patting his lap, you rolled your eyes with a small smile and sat down, no matter how embarrassed you were at the notion. His arms wrapped around you instantly and he nuzzled his face into your back like a child. The crew members that shared the table with their captain couldn’t help but laugh at the scene before them and that made the all too familiar warmth blossom along your cheeks. Shanks noticed immediately and beamed brightly with that infectious smile, “Aren’t they the cutest?!” 

“Shanks, stop...” You whined as you attempted to cover your face and wriggled in his lap. His grip on you was firm however and he shook his head violently.

“No way, look guys, look at my little shortcake. Tell them how pretty they are!” 

You’d never get used to that, what was supposed to be endearing, nickname. It always made your stomach flip in the weirdest ways and you weren’t sure if you actually liked it or not. What you knew for sure, was that Shanks would be the death of you. Sober Shanks was enough of a handful, but drunk Shanks constantly had you flushing bright red from his shameless advances. 

“Woah, woah! So you’re the captain’s lover now?” Lucky Roo laughed loudly and you whined even further as you jabbed Shanks in the ribs with your elbow.

“I never said that.” 

Shanks pouted, “Hey! That’s mean! Then why were you all kissy with me last night?” Another jab to the ribs and even drunk Shanks got the hint to shut up.

The entire table laughed and you joined them awkwardly, hoping everyone was just laughing off. It was still a mystery to you whether the crew knew of you and Shanks after all. It was true that you weren’t his. It’s not like he had officially asked anyway. It didn’t matter how many kisses you shared or how tightly he held you in his bed at night. He had yet to ask you officially, properly, and you were beginning to assume that what you two had was nothing more than physical. Though you two had shared many heartfelt conversations countless times before and the emotional connection was more than evident.

The rest of the night was long and Shanks continued to tease you just to rile you up. You didn’t mind, no matter if your actions said otherwise. Shanks’ playful nature with you was one of the many things that had you head over heels for him. It made your heart thump wildly the way he’d look at you and it amazed you at how it never faltered whether he was drunk or sober. There was always that twinkle of adoration in his eyes, paired with that toothy smile that made your heart melt every single time. And you easily noticed that he always gave that look to you alone.

You were unsure what to think of it, especially as he was giving you that look now while you tucked him gently into bed.

“So...you won’t be mine?” His smile drooped into a dramatic frown as he easily complied to you fluffing his pillow and pulling the blankets over him. 

You sighed exasperatedly but smiled down at him nonetheless, “Maybe tomorrow, Shanks.” He’d probably forget this entire exchange by the morning anyhow. 

“Well I’d better get to sleep then, so tomorrow will get here faster.” He sounded like a kid on Christmas Eve and it only made your heart yearn for him even more. If there was anything you knew about Shanks, it was that he never said anything he didn’t mean. Not even when he was drunk. So if he was so eager to claim you as his, why wouldn’t he do so? 

You left his room with further confusion, and you knew you were probably over complicating the situation. You just desired to feel a sense of control over your relationships, and with Shanks it was nearly impossible to control your intense whirlwind of a romance. It was a nice change and you loved what you had together, but you needed clarity. You needed to know what you two were. As you laid your head upon your pillow, you struggled to fall asleep as your head raced with possible scenarios, both good and bad, and suddenly you were very nervous and probably unprepared for tomorrow. 

The next day came and Shanks was nowhere to be found. You’d intended to wake him up in the morning with water and hangover medicine, but you only found his bed empty. When you returned into the hallway, you felt a hand on your back and instantly peered up to see Benn towering over you, “Captain said we’re having an important meeting. We gotta go.” 

You followed the herd of the crew as they collected onto the deck and your eyes instantly caught Shanks’. He smiled down at you and waved excitedly which made you wonder if he remembered your conversation last night after all. 

“Now that everyone is here, I have an important announcement to make.” Shanks called out while the crew listened intently. “It’s come to my attention that there’s been a rumor going around that Liru and I are together.” Your face burned instantly as all eyes fell on you and you could hear the murmurs of the crew. Just what was Shanks up to?

“I just wanted to take the time to squash those rumors.” You swore you could hear the sound of your heart breaking over everything else around you. Your skin grew cold as the many piercing eyes remained on you and the murmuring only continued, “And hopefully make them a reality. If Liru will have me.”

The crew emitted a low and amused ooh that tingled your body to its core. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as his words echoed in your brain, slowly making less and less sense as they repeated like a broken record. You watched with bated breath as he descended the stairs and made his way toward you, the crowd easily clearing the way for their captain. When he stood before you he took your trembling hands in his, giving you the look.

“So, it’s tomorrow. Whaddya say? Will you be mine?” 

Pause. Both for dramatic effect and so you could regain your composure. Just as his confident smile began to fade, you took his face between your hands and inhaled a shaky breath.

“Yes, you dummy. You kept me waiting long enough!” Without thinking twice, you pulled him down into a passionate kiss. He easily met you halfway, lifting you up off your feet to pull you as close as possible into him in eager excitement to finally seal the deal. The crew cheered wildly around you, already setting up for another big celebration, but all you could focus on was the familiar softness of Shanks’ lips on your own. His lips now finally yours to claim.

[hoeforbilly]

i've never been happier

MASTERLIST (with parts 1-3)

I'm so sorry I haven't posted at all. I was dealing with some family stuff and i didn't have time or energy to post. I'll try to post more but I don't wanna promise anything, hope you like this one!

summary: super cutesy being in San Diego

warnings: z e r o

genre: fluuuuuff

word count: 1.7k

Everything was different in San Diego. From the slightly salty scent lingering in the air at all times to the cars and the attitude of the people in them. The only thing that remained the same, and you were sure would never change, was how you felt about Billy.

Leaving Indiana lifted such a weight off his shoulders you almost felt like you've never seen him take a deep breath before. Like he was choking the whole time you knew him, and now, after such a long time, he could finally relax and breath again. You almost teared up several times realizing how excruciating life in Hawkins was for him and how much he had to go through.

Neither of you really considered yourself morning people but waking up in California proved to be really easy. Every day was exciting, you got to see more and more of why Billy loved it so much and you understood why he so desperately wanted to be back as soon as Neil made him leave.

You would go for a swim nearly every morning. Then walk along the beach, back to your apartment. The sun would dry your hair by the time you walked back into the tiny place one of Billy's uncles managed to find for you on such short notice. Then you would make breakfast - pancakes or scrambled eggs if you were feeling fancy, usually just cereal though. You would talk and cuddle on the couch while flipping through papers, looking for jobs. Then there would usually be a job interview or a meeting of some sort, lunch and back to the beach. That's how life was for the first 2 weeks. You've never had a more blissfull time in your life. It felt like you were in your private little bubble of perfect happiness.

That's how you felt waking up on yet another Monday morning, Billy's head rested in the crook of your neck, his warm breath lightly tickling your skin. You smiled and ran your fingers through his curls to which he moaned quietly, nuzzling his face further into you.

"I've never been happier" you whispered, gazing lovingly at the boy. You ran your finger along the outline of his shoulder, then down his side and watched the goosebumps appear.

You were positive you were yet to have seen a being more beautiful than Billy. Nothing could ever compare to how soft his skin was, how his hair felt between your fingers or how stunning his eyes were when he stared at you through his lashes.

"I hope our kids have your eyes" the words left your mouth before you could even think. Most people would expect Billy to run as soon as he heard a girl say something like that. He would mumble something incoherent, get up and leave. That's what Indiana Billy would do. California Billy just smiled blissfully and nodded.

"I hope they have your nose. You have the cutest nose I've ever seen" his voice was low and raspy given he just barely woke up. It made your heart skip a beat.

"You want to have kids with me?" you've never talked about it. Sure it was something you thought about from time to time, he was the love of your life after all. But him also thinking about it was the last thing you would have expected.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm so in love with you it's crazy. I actually don't know how it's even humanly possible to love someone as much as I love you. I wanna have at least 2 kids with you. A boy first, and then a girl a couple years later. And I wanna raise 'em in a nice house with a backyard. And maybe even a front porch. Why not" you chuckled and shifted in the bed, so now your head was rested on Billy's chest.

"What else?" you asked, a big smile on your face.

"I haven't thought of names yet. But I'd love for the girl to have my mom's name as her middle name" you squeezed his hand hearing the uncertianty in his voice.

"That would be really special Billy. I love that."

"I bet Max would be around to help out with them, gosh she'd be the coolest aunt" you smiled at the thought.

Shortly after you jumped out of bed. Got dressed, grabbed your towels and headed to the beach. Billy was teaching you how to surf so it was especially fun. And the day went by. And then another. And before you knew it, a whole year passed.

Billy got a job at a car shop and enrolled in night classes at a local community college. He was studying buissnes, hoping to eventually open up something of his own. You went to college and worked part time at a diner. You moved into a slightly bigger apartment, with an actual bedroom. There was no puppy yet but after hours of convincing, Billy managed to get the landlord to agree to him putting in some colorful tiles in the bathroom. You cried when you first saw them. You went swimming on the weekends and despite not having much free time, Billy was still teaching you how to surf. Life was better than you ever though it could be.

The weather was particularly nice that evening so Billy insisted on going for a swim. It's been raining all week so you had to give up your usual beach routine and resort to watching movies (which really mostly ended up in making out and moving to the bedroom). Not that either of you minded, it was a nice change. You grabbed your towel and put on your flip flops, Billy already by the door, ready to go.

"Did you put sunscreen on your nose?" you asked, pulling your hair into a ponytail.

"Come on babe, I'm a Californian. I don't need sunscreen" he scoffed, making you raise your eyebrows.

"Did you already forget how red your nose was after we went surfing last week?"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

"Baby you made me put makeup on it cause you said you looked like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." his face scrunched up at the memory.

"You're right. Give me some of that sunscreen." you just laughed and handed him the bottle.

The water was really nice and there weren't many people at the beach, given it was a Wednesday afternoon. You were happy Billy convinced you to come. You had both agreed you weren't gonna become the people who live by the ocean and never go to the beach. The sand was warm, the breeze light and refreshing. The sun was just about to start setting and as cheesy at it sounds, you felt like you were the only people in the world.

What you didn't know was that in the pocket of Billy's jacket was something he's had for months. Something he had to call your mother several times about, to make sure he was picking the right one. Something Max made fun of him for obssesing over.

He watched you get out of the water, run to the blanket he was seated on and wrap yourself tightly in a towel.

"Oh boy it's getting cold" you mumbled drying your hair with a towel and pulling Billy's hoodie on. Your hair was messy and damp, there was not an ounce on makeup on your face, your cheeks were red and you looked the most beautiful Billy's ever seen you.

"Come here girl" he smiled, opening his arms. You gladly did, positioning yourself in his lap, head rested on his shoulder.

"I love you B." you whispered after a little moment of silence.

"I love you too. And I think you know cause I'm not exactly secretive about it but I wanna be with you forever." he ran his hands across your back as he spoke. "I love every single thing about you. You make me feel so excited for the future. I've never even wanted a future before I met you. You make everything so much better. You understand me like no one else ever did and I will forever be thankful you packed up your whole life and moved here with me. I can't count the times you saved my life." his voice cracked at the last sentence and you lifted your head off his chest to see tears gather up in his eyes. He reached for his pocket and got a tiny purple box out of the pocket.

"I know you deserve so much better than me" tears were streaming down his face as he spoke. "You're like a fucking angel. But you chose me and I want you to know I will forever choose you." he opened the box revealing a goregous ring with a small yellow-orange stone.

"Yes yes yes yes, of course Billy" you cried, placing both your hands on his cheeks and kissing all over his face.

"I haven't even asked you yet" he chuckled.

"Oh right" you brushed your hair behind your ears and reached down to grab his hand. He leaned forward and placed the sweetest, most gentle kiss on your lips.

"Will you marry me baby girl?" he whispered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and pressing yourself against his chest.

"Yes, of course, my god" you were overwhelmed with emotions. You were positive your heart was gonna explode from how much you loved Billy. There was nothing and no one in the world that could ruin this perfect moment. The way he chose to propose was exactly what you always wanted. No fancy dinners and people clapping all around you. No tacky flowers and spending crazy amounts on making it happen. Just the two of you, your favorite beach and a sunset.

"Do you wanna try it on angel?" Billy asked and you finally looked at him again.

"I do!" you were excited. You would have been just as happy if he proposed with a fucking spaghetti hoop but it was adorable that he picked out a ring for you.

"It's a garnet stone. I talked to your mom a bunch and she said it represents loyalty and I though you'd like the color" he explained, taking the ring out of the box and putting it on your finger. It was a perfect fit.

"I absolutely adore it B." you looked at it, tears in your eyes again. "I love you so much. So so so so much."

"I love you too baby" he smiled.