#made this while listening to taylor swifts 'bad blood' on repeat

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[partyhardyinamaserati]

Taylor Swift (Jamie Tartt x Reader)

Warnings: Have not been writing for long and this is super self-indulgent.

Summary: Jamie takes interest in something (more like someone) that you enjoy. Reader’s gender is not specified.

You might have accidentally made Jamie Tartt into a Swiftie. It started when you were simply listening to Bad Blood (feat. Kendrick Lamar). A song that he didn’t even know existed. So, when he walked into your shared bedroom during Kendrick’s part, he was excited. You were listening to an artist that he really liked. He was then shocked to hear Taylor’s voice.

“Love?” He asks you as you’re bobbing your head while folding laundry.

“What’s up?” You respond.

“Is this a Taylor Swift song with Kendrick Lamar?” You just look at him and nod very slowly. He follows up with:

“What other songs by her do you think I’d like?” And that was that. You started him off with Reputation. He liked End Game, I Did Something Bad, Gorgeous, and Dress. In the back of your mind knowing that he would be an Evermore fan. Besides listening to Reputation, you introduced him to the rest of them in the order that they came out. Debut isn’t exactly his favorite but he liked Picture to Burn… kinda. When you got to Fearless (Taylor’s Version), he won’t ever admit that he cried to You’re Not Sorry. He does jam to Tell Me Why. On Speak Now, his favorites were Better Than Revenge and Long Live. With Speak Now also came you explaining what John Mayer did and how Taylor Lautner will go down as one of Swift’s best exes. Red (Taylor’s Version) came and suddenly the hate for Jake Gyllenhaal made sense and he became very scared for John Mayer and said something along the lines of,

“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers.” Ultimately his favorites on the album became The Lucky One and I Bet You Think About Me. When you finally listened to 1989 he was excited to be out of the woods country music wise-he will never admit that he kind of likes it. He immediately loves Clean, Wonderland, and New Romantics. You were surprised Bad Blood wasn’t on his list and he told you,

“It’s good but it’s not better than the others, babe.” After that you asked,

“Do you want to listen to Reputation again, for the sake of listening in order?”

“Nah,” he answered, “No time, we need to listen to all of the albums before repeating.” Then came Lover. You explained to him that this was the first album that she owned and everything about all of the things that happened and went down. Once you finally go to listen, he broke down listening to The Archer.

“It’s like she wrote the song just for me,” he explained to you. It was at that moment you knew he was going to break even more at Folklore and Evermore. In the meantime he also really enjoyed I Forgot That You Existed. Before you start with Folklore and Evermore you explain how she wrote them during quarantine and that they are more storytelling albums and not very poppy.

“Folklore tells the story of James, August, and Betty.” You told him. He nodded and it was off to the races. By the end of it, his love for Taylor Swift grew even more. When listening to Peace he has to look away from you but you grab his face,

“You give me peace.” You had been worried about this song. The public had many opinions on your relationship with him being famous and you having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was always worried that you would leave him to be rid of the limelight that you didn’t want. What he didn’t seem to comprehend was that he was your peace, and you didn’t need anything else when he was with you. He just looks at you while the rest of the song plays. You finish the last two songs on the album and leave it at that. You don’t bring up listening to Evermore the next night like he thought you would. He figured you were tired and let it slide, but once a week had passed he took matters into his own hands and listened on his own. When you finally asked,

“Ready to listen to Evermore?” He responded with,

“Already did, I now understand your love for Cowboy Like Me.” This sends you into shock, once you collect yourself, you are angry and proud of him at the same time.

“You listened without me?! I wanted to be here for every album!” And a few seconds later you add, “I’m really happy that you like her music.”

“I’m happy you’re not that mad because I also went ahead and listened to Midnights without ya.” He boasts.

“Jamie Tartt, I can not believe you listened to the last two albums without me!” You laugh.

“What can I say? You put me on.”

[mystic-headcanons]

mystic characters + what taylor swift album i'd think they'd like

what's up gamers it's been like two or three years since i've touched this blog but i'm hyperfixated on mystic again and taylor swift, so. heeeeere we go. under the cut because this became a lot longer than i actually wanted it to T_T

i think zen's favorite album would be 1989. i literally don't have any reason other than style has the cuntiest opening out of any of her songs and i think zen would obsess over it for weeks. you could find him humming it in between rehearsals and throwing it on repeat while he works out. along with style, he'd love clean, this love, and bad blood the most.

yoosung's favorite album is fearless, hands down. he has a very fairytale-esque view on love, and songs like love story and today was a fairytale and untouchable fit that view. while they're not on any of his main playlists, they are on all of the playlists he's made for you. if he's missing you especially hard, then he likes to listen to those specific songs and just. lay there and think about you. he rly is just a teenage girl in a twenty-something year old body.

saeyoung's favorite album would absolutely be speak now. it's whimsical and fantastical and just a little melancholy and sad, and i think it fits his vibe perfectly. he'll put on innocent when he needs to be reminded that he can change, that he can be better than he has been; he'll play castles crumbling when he's in a particularly self-loathing mood. and enchanted gets played on a loop the first time he meets you-- it got so bad that vanderwood threatened to tase him unless he shut it off.

jumin's taste in music is sophisticated and, often times, just straight up classical music. he wouldn't have sought out her music on his own-- maybe he became interested because you listened to paris, or perhaps he heard anti-hero on the radio in one of the rare times that driver kim has the radio on. whatever the reason, it was enough to pique his interest in her. midnights would be his favorite album- and the only one he'd listen to in its entirety. you're on your own kid would be his go-to song, but midnight rain, would've could've should've, and dear reader are all tied for second.

jaehee would love folklore. she'd be a casual taylor fan- not really fond of the singles or the hits, but would enjoy her deeper cuts. folklore would be the first album where she loved every song. this is me trying would play on a loop if jaehee was stressed or had a particularly hard day. the lakes would be her all-time favorite song, but mad woman and cardigan would be close. invisible string is near and dear to her heart because every time she hears it, she can't help but think of you.

saeran's favorite album is reputation, but not for the obvious reasons. while he does enjoy it for its darker sound, reputation is his favorite because it's about finding love in the middle of all the darkness and anger. new year's day would be his absolute favorite song- and the one that he associates with you the most. the 'i'm there through it all, through the good and the bad, and i'll help clean up any metaphorical mess you make' message is what had set it aside from any other song, and saeran listens to it on repeat on all of his bad days. he also really enjoys ready for it, don't blame me, and dancing with our hands tied.

jihyun's favorite album is lover. while he'd really enjoy her other albums, lover spoke to him in ways that the others didn't. the archer and afterglow would be tied for all time favorite song- the archer because it speaks to his generalized anxiety, and afterglow because he especially has anxiety within romantic relationships- always had, but it became intense after rika. he craves a love that is soft and delicate, so daylight would absolutely be up there with the archer and afterglow. daylight gets played often once you and him start dating, and he can and will listen to it for hours while thinking of you or cuddling with you. (you've listened to it so much that you could probably play the entire thing by ear.)

[paleclementine]

I did this last year on my other account, so here it is again: these were some of my favorite songs this year, in no particular order.

Style- Taylor Swift. I played this song so ridiculously much but it's so good. Which is why I played it. lol. I kinda played this so much because I wanted to have a 1989 moment (all year) but mostly prep for the summer vibes. Also, somewhat embarrassingly, I listened to this song because it reminds me of soukoku (fic inspo). it's funny how itricately my fanfic-writing and taylor-listening went hand in hand, such as Coney Island, Ivy, I Wish You Would, Clean..... really all of evermore and 1989. I told myself I'd have an evermore year, and I did.

This Comes From Inside- The Living Tombstones. again, this is one of those songs that could also be swapped out for any other fnaf song. This summer, I had a huge internet music phase, and I also had one in winter but it was more subdued. It was nice to let myself be cringe and into Fnaf, Markiplier, Unus Annus, Cosplay, and other things that had to do with being internet trash.

Romantic Homicide- d4vd. I listened to this song so much?? I wouldn't even say it's one of my favorite songs, but it is catchy and I do like the lyrics and concept of it. it's just chill and pretty... and also inspo for my fic.

Alaska- Pingrove. This was during my phase where I was obsessed with van life and getting the fuck out of my room. I felt very free while listening to this song, and I loved the concept of a life falling apart but being brand new at the same time, scraping your knees on cement on your way to a better place. "I asked what I'd been asking you / Like trees repeat, like numerals do" "Through that opalescent open road / And then time spread and expanded / The lines fanned out across the land."

I Think About You All the Time- Field Medic. this song is so calming and contained every ounce of yearning I felt when I was away from Anthony. It felt like a painful summer day and a nectar heart. "When I hear your voice in a whisper / To me it feels like leisure." I really did create a life with Anthony inside my mind whenever I closed my eyes.

Cover Me- Starbenders. This was my song of the summer! it's what ABBA would give if they were all witches. I loved the singers voice. The song reminded me of a modern fleetwood mac. "die for one another / sacrifice my soul." Simple lyrics, and not flowery, but I feel it in my bones.

Oleander- Mother Mother. the TUNE of this song makes me go actually crazy. Also, the live version of this song is a lot better but it's only on youtube. It makes me feel evil, like I'm a bad person and in a relationship that only hurts each other-- like biting people for the intimacy of blood. but loving each other even if it kills.

Wicked Game. This song gives such fall vibes, grey clouds, but warmth. "The world was on fire / And no one could save me but you." I liked this song around the time I played Night in the Woods, and it made me feel so fall. It feels so canyon. It feels dark and red and- the world was on fire, but autumn-chilled.

Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet- Fall Out Boy. I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG. I was obseeeessssed with this album all throughout fall. This song just scratched an itch in my brain that no other song did. there are so many different melodies in this song and they all make me feel achingly angry-in-love. I also loved the tune of tiffany blews. Really just every song.

Mg1- Machine Girl. this song got me through the winter. It's so depressing and I relate to it. it sounds like silent hill. This is an opportunity to talk about the songs on youtube, so big shoutout to Oliver-vocaloid songs and I Deserve to Bleed and-

Blow my Brains Out (sped up version). obligatory addition because holy F this song is so good, makes me want to dance and ofc blow my brains out at the same time. such a fun dancey song, so internetty but normie at the same time. Thanks, song. ily.

[maybebitterxox]

What I Think ST Character’s Fav Taylor Swift Album + Song(s) Would Be

Will: Folklore or evermore definitely. And I think he would like cardigan, though I Knew You Were Trouble is another good candidate

El: As much as she gives off folklore vibes, I feel like she’d adore Lover. Love Story or invisible string would be her fav

Max: She’d vibe with Fearless, and I just know that she’d fuck so hard with You Belong With Me. She’d be dancing around her room at 2am using a hairbrush as a mic screaming the lyrics and you can’t convince me otherwise

Mike: He’d lie and say he doesn’t listen to her but secretly he’s a Speak Now stan. He would probably know all the lyrics to Afterglow and Enchanted

Lucas: Lover stan, though 1989 is very close. His #1 is definitely Karma but he also loves Death By A Thousand Cuts

Dustin: Loves Fearless. Sing-screams You Belong With Me with Max and also really likes Look What You Made Me Do

Nancy: She would have the lyrics to every Midnights song memorised. It’s difficult for her to choose her fav, it’s a three-way split between The Man, Anti-Hero and Bejeweled

Jonathan: Toxic folklore stan. He knows all the lyrics to All Too Well 10 minute version

Robin: Very difficult for her to choose a favourite, but she would have a soft spot for 1989 and Red. And she’d vibe so hard with We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Steve: A major Debut stan and will defend it with his life. He also loves We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together and him and Robin just have it playing on repeat 24/7 while they’re working

Joyce: She’d love Red, and she would also be an avid All Too Well enjoyer like Jonathan

Hopper: Will never admit it but he always listens and vibes along when El plays her songs. Fearless has been his fav so far and he secretly knows all the lyrics to You Belong With Me

Chrissy: Folklore enjoyer. She’d really vibe with Bejeweled

Eddie: Midnights stan 100%. Used to pretend to hate her music but now he just listens to Bejeweled and Look What You Made Me Do on repeat

Argyle: Hardcore toxic Fearless Stan, and Shake It Off is just playing in his brain 24/7

Erica: Reputation girlie. She fucks so hard with Look What You Made Me Do, Bad Blood and I Did Something Bad

[peakyblinded]

✨a cute lil collection of some of Peaky Blinders' finest moments✨

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY!

[ourfanficlibrary]

Tolerate it

This story was inspired by Taylor Swift's song titled Tolerate it, so I would recommend listening to it if you haven't already. It's a good song!!

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST/SADNESS (but also moments of fluff)

Word count: almost 7K

Side note: the headers are the reader’s age: yoongi’s age

Summary:

He was your brother’s best friend, only two years older than you. You’ve known him since you were 8, and he felt like your second brother for the longest time. His warmth melted a permanent hole in your heart that only he could fill. It was enough to make you love him, even when his affection seemed to turn to toleration. 

8:10

He saw you peeking out from the bottom of the staircase, watching curiously as he and your brother tested out a new Lego set he had gotten for Christmas. He caught your gaze and sent you a smile that showcased his gums and made you blush for the first time out of many that would come after that. You were a shy kid from the get-go, but for some reason, his smile warmed you up enough to step out of the shadows instead of running away. 

“Do you want to play with us?” He asked you, making your brother turn around to look at you. Quietly, you nod your head and the two boys scoot over to make space for you in between them. He handed you an oddly shaped block and pointed you toward where you were supposed to put it. You nodded, following his instruction and beaming when you saw the joyed glint in his eyes when you were successful. 

12:14

You saw the front door open and two boys enter with slouched postures and pouty faces. Only when the two of them came closer did you see that Yoongi’s jeans were covered in mud and his elbow was scraped badly. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head seeing the contrast between the bright red skin of the injured area and his usually pale skin. Almost immediately, you’re off the couch and in front of them. 

“What happened?” You asked your brother, seeing as Yoongi didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain.

  “We were skating and some kid thought it would be funny to throw a branch in front of him,” he said. The anger flashing through your eyes at that moment was anything but subtle.

“Funny?” You repeat in disbelief, grabbing Yoongi’s arm to inspect it. There was mud on the scraped skin. 

“They were stupid,” your brother spit out.

“No duh. You go get some clothes, I'll do the first aid stuff,” you said, already pulling Yoongi towards the bathroom with you. 

You pulled down the lid on the toilet and instructed him to sit while you got everything you needed from the cabinets. You cleaned the mud off his arm with water first, not wanting to go right in with alcohol until the area was free of any visible dirt.

“Why are you all muddy?” You asked him curiously. He hadn’t spoken since he walked in, and you already knew that it was because he was embarrassed.

“I fell into the grass, and it was still wet from the rain,” he answered. You looked at his arm again, and it just didn’t click.

“You wouldn’t have gotten scraped up so badly if you fell in the grass. This is from the cement,” you pointed out, throwing the napkin away to get a new one and start to disinfect the scarp. 

“I fell in the grass after I fell on the cement,” he explained. You looked up at him to see him blushing and avoiding eye contact with you. 

“What?” You asked wide-eyed with concern and confusion.

“I passed out.”

“What???” You almost screamed but managed to keep your volume level. 

“We were walking back home through the field, and I looked at my arm for the first time and saw all the blood. So, I passed out.” His face seemed to match the color of his poor arm. 

“Oh,” you say, a little more relieved. Passing out from the sight of blood isn’t so bad. “It’s a good thing you passed out on the grass and not the cement, even though you got mud all over you. At least you didn’t hit your head hard,” you said, more to calm yourself down than anything. “Right? You didn’t hit your head?”

“No,” he chuckles at your frantic questioning. “My head is fine.” You nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. You pressed the alcohol-soaked napkin to his skin, eliciting a hiss out of him that made you pull back with a grimace.

“Sorry. Did it sting really badly?” He shakes his head and offers you a weak smile.

“It’s fine. You can keep going.” You nodded your head again and softly brought the napkin back to his skin, wiping it clean before you threw the napkin away and freed Yoongi of the torture. 

“I couldn’t find any bandages big enough,” you confessed. “But I’ll figure something out.” You made your way out of the bathroom shouting out “Stay here!” before disappearing. Not even a moment later you’re sliding across the bathroom floor with tape in your hand because the sheer speed you were running at made it hard to stop. Yoongi let out a small laugh at your antics, unable to keep that smile you loved so much off his face. You give it right back to him, smiling happily as you walk towards the toilet and hover over him once more. You grabbed another paper towel, folded it, and wrapped it around his arms. He watched as you taped the two ends together with so much focus your tongue poked out a bit. A habit he’d come to be endeared by. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to you when you were finished. 

“Of course.” You gave him your best smile. “I called mom to pick up some bandages on the way home, but for now this is the best I could do,” you told him. Truth be told, he didn’t mind at all. The most healing thing to him was knowing you cared enough to treat him so attentively. 

“It’s perfect,” he assured you. 

18:20

Yoongi was distracted the whole time he was at your house, finding it difficult to focus on the words that were coming out of your brother’s mouth. He nodded, but his eyes kept wandering to the stairs. He was looking for you; you didn’t even run down to greet him when he rang the doorbell like you always did. He knew you were home, so how come you didn’t come to see him? Yoongi looked back at your brother and told him he was going to go up to say hi to you, but a frown overtook his features when he saw the way your brother cringed at the mention of your name.

“I don’t know if you want to do that right now,” your brother warned him.

“Why not?” Yoongi asked through a pout.

“She was crying.”

“Crying? Why?” His eyes widened, displaying all the worry that was already clearly evident in his voice.

“I don’t know,” your brother admit defeatedly, “She refused to tell me what happened and kicked me out of her room.”

“I’m gonna go. . .try to talk to her,” he decided, getting up from the couch.

“Ok bro, but don’t take it personally if she tells you to fuck off. I’m her brother, and she literally kicked my ass out the door, you know with her foot and all,” he lifted his leg up for a demonstration and gestured to it with his arms, “and locked me out.” A weak smile lifted the corner of Yoongi’s lips; he could imagine you doing that. He nodded with a chuckle and found himself making his way upstairs despite the warnings. Though he hesitated when his hand came up to knock on your door. After a deep breath in and out he let his hand collide with the wood.

“Hey, it’s me,” he called from the other side of the door. There was silence until he heard footsteps making their way towards him. You opened the door only a crack, hiding your face behind it.

“Hi Yoongi,” you managed to say, voice croaky. “I’m, uh,” you sniffled, looking down, “sorry I didn’t come down to say hi. I’ve been. . .feeling a little sick.” Part of his heart broke at how sweet you were being with him even when he knew you felt like shit. Though somewhere in his heart of hearts he knew that if there was anyone who’d be safe from bearing the brunt of your rage, it was him. You weren’t exactly subtle about your soft spot for your brother’s best friend. 

“Can I come in?” He asked, watching you grow hesitant. He knew you were looking for a way to say no to him. “Your brother already told me you’ve been crying,” he admitted, hoping it would at least get you to stop trying to hide your face from him.

“My brother has a big mouth,” you grumbled, opening the door and walking back to face plant on your bed. Yoongi shut the door behind him and took a seat next to you, patting your back in an attempt to soothe you in some way. It worked because you sat up to face him, giving him an unobstructed view of your puffy face and red eyes.  

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked. When Yoongi asked if you want to talk about something, it always felt like he wasn’t going to secretly be disappointed if you said yes. Sometimes with other people, it felt like a way of being polite instead of genuine concern, and for those times your answer was always no. But at the same time, it didn’t feel like a way to get you to talk either. You knew if you say no, he wouldn’t push it. That’s why for him the answer was always yes. 

“There was a guy from school,” you started, already feeling embarrassed, but when you looked up to see Yoongi’s attentive face, you felt ok to keep going. “We started hanging out at the end of last year. He kind of asked me out, and I said yes, which was stupid because I didn’t even like the guy like that. I just wanted to experience the whole dating thing before I do it with someone I actually had feelings for,” you felt yourself start to get sidetracked and stopped talking, “anyways that’s not important. We started doing the whole dating thing at the being of summer. We’d hold hands and stuff, but he would never try to kiss me or anything. I didn’t mind it at first because I’ve never, you know,” your face started to heat up a bit at the confession, but he just nodded in understanding, “yeah so I thought maybe he was also taking it slow like I was, but when I finally decided that I was ready to just do it, he said some shit to me that made me feel sad.” Yoongi’s face fell, eyebrows furrowing subconsciously.

“What shit?” You immediately shied away from his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.

“He, uh,” you played with your fingers nervously, “he said he didn’t want to kiss me. Apparently, my braces are a huge turnoff. I didn’t have them when he asked me out, he probably wouldn’t have if I did.” You kept your eyes on your hands, scared that you’ll start crying again if you look at him. Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that you were insecure about having braces at your age because most of your friends already got theirs removed years ago, but he didn’t see the probably with them. He didn’t understand why anyone would see them as a reason not to take the chance to kiss you. You were still you with or without them. He can’t help the scoff that leaves his lips at the thought.

“That’s some bullshit. They’re not a turnoff at all, he’s just a dumbass.” He said sternly enough to make you laugh.

“You just say that because you’re nice to me,” you brushed him off. 

“No, you know I don’t lie.” He was right. In the time you’ve known Yoongi, he’s been rather blunt. He didn’t see the use for white lies. “I think someone would have to be stupid not to want to kiss you.” The words kind of just slipped from his mouth before he could register the implication he was making. You whipped your head to look at him, making his cheeks go red. His hand found the back of his neck as it tended to when he was nervous. 

“Would you?” You asked catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened, lips parting ever so slightly.

“Huh?”

“I mean if you were him, would you have wanted to kiss me?” You asked feeling rather daring, but still feeling your heart brace itself for its second wave of rejection–rejection you’d already know would be much harder to shoulder than the first. 

“If-if I was him, yeah,” he stutters, unsure if his answer is acceptable. Would it make it ok to want to kiss you if he was someone else? If he wasn’t your brother’s best friend. He feels a little bit of relief when he sees you starting to smile, but his relief seems not to last very long.

“What if I asked you?” You looked at him intently. “Would you want to kiss me?” His eyes fell to your lips for the briefest of moments, they were glossy from a fresh application of chapstick, and he begged his brain not to wonder what it tastes like. His efforts were fruitless, so he looked away, hands rested on his knees. He stayed quiet, feeling somewhat unequipped to answer your question. “Because I want you to.” Your words hit him like a pile of bricks, and he sent you a look of pure disbelief. 

“Are asking me to kiss you?” He asked like your words weren’t clear as day.

“Isn’t it better if my first kiss is with someone I know and trust instead of some random person I don’t care about? If you wanted to kiss me, I’d like that,” you said, suddenly getting shy. You studied his face eagerly, but it didn’t give you many clues to what he was thinking. His blank stare put you off. You look down at your lap, a bitter chuckle leaving your mouth. Rejection. He was just being nice “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. We–”

“Yeah,” he cut you off, “Of course, I would.”

“Are you. . .? Really?” You felt the need to confirm. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, returning to his confident self. “I don’t want you kissing assholes.” He shined his pretty smile at you, making your cheeks heat up. You returned it, turning to fully face him, scooting in a bit closer, and sitting on your heels. His eyes fell back onto your lips, and his tongue darted out to swipe across his own. The action caught your attention, and all of a sudden the reality of what you just asked hits you–who you just asked. “Are you sure you want it to be me?” He asked you softly. “I would feel really bad if you regretted it.”

“I wouldn’t. Not with you, I feel safe with you.” He bit his lip to keep his smile from growing too wide. He felt proud to hear those words from you, that you trusted him, even if he already knew it well. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb on your soft skin. He got closer until his lips were only centimeters apart from yours and your breath hitches.

“I’m glad,” he whispered before closing the gap. Your eyes shut at the feeling of his lips moving against yours, wanting only to focus on it. He eased you into it, letting you get comfortable enough to set the pace. He smiled into the kiss when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in gently. He almost wrapped his hands around your thighs to pull you onto his lap before he realized what he was doing and dropped them. You pulled away, looking at him with a stunned expression. Maybe neither of you expected that to be so. . .exciting. You didn’t back away completely, biting your lips nervously as he stared at you silently. Unable to put your thoughts together properly you let your eyes drift back up to his and said nothing. When he smiled at you, you felt your reserve slowly crumble. The wire in your brain snapped when he started to chuckle at your wide-eyed expression. You pushed him onto his back and hovered over him like a predator, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you warned. 

“But your face is funny,” he defended himself, still smiling at you. You didn’t say anything snarky back to him, instead, your eyes darted around his face–searching for something. All you found was the fondness in his eyes and his gummy smile– the one that made you fall for him every single time. Min Yoongi. The man you’ve yearned for since you knew what wanting someone felt like. The man you’d asked to give you your first kiss. The man who always seemed to give you what you asked for just because you wanted it. The man who was smiling his lovely smile just for you. 

“C-can we do that again?” You asked hesitantly. A bit of shock passed through his eyes that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t watching closely before he gave you a silent nod. You were still positioned over him, hands and knees supporting you. You leaned down, bringing your lips to his. This time you fell into rhythm quickly, having gotten a hang of what to do. Without the nerves of the first kiss, you were able to fully experience all the sparks of the second. Your chest felt tingly, and your lungs felt constricted. You only pulled away because it was getting hard to breath. The tingly feeling spread to your entire body when he lifted his head to chase the kiss as you brought yourself back up, his eyes still closed even after your lips were gone. Min Yoongi. The man who made you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall next to him on the mattress. 

“That guy missed out big time,” Yoongi spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts. A smile made its home on your face. It was good to know you weren’t the only one enjoying that. You turned your head to look at Yoongi, who was already looking at you. God. That smile of his only did more damage after you knew what it was like to kiss him. His eyes sparkled in a way that was distinctly Yoongi. Your brother used to make fun of you when you’d say that everybody’s eyes shined differently because they were meant to be interpreted differently by different people. Everybody’s sparkle was designed to make their soulmate fall in love with them. You knew it was some stupid trope you’d fantasied, but when you looked at Yoongi’s eyes it felt real. “Don’t let boys make you cry. And definitely don’t let them make you feel like shit, ok?” He waited expectantly for you to answer. You nodded your head.

“Ok,” you whispered.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more convincing than that,” he chuckled. “Promise me,” he said, holding out his pinky towards you. You locked your pinky with his.

“I promise,” you said more confidently.

“Good.” He smiled, sitting up in his spot. His hair stuck up in the back, making it look slightly messy. It was unnecessarily attractive. You looked at him longingly, not being able to voice your feelings. Wasn’t it already obvious? 

“Yoongi,” you called out softly, but that’s all you managed to get out, feeling unprepared to talk at all.

“Hm?” He hummed, still looking at you with the same fond eyes. Your heart started to race.

“Thank you,” you said. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“For what?”

“For always being there when I need you. For everything.” The look on your face was so soft, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. 

“Of course, anything for you.” Your grip on the edge of the mattress tightened at his words, gaze falling to the floor. His hand searched for yours, holding it firmly in his to reassure you. 

21:23

Your brother had broken the news to you. Yoongi dropped out of college, and his parents kicked him out of the house. So that’s why you were at the goshiwon helping him move in. Your brother was supposed to be here but he was busy and sent you instead. Yoongi didn’t have much to move; you were mostly here for mental support, not physical. He set his box down on the desk, not turning around to face you immediately. You knew it was hard on him, but part of you knew he’d be ok in the end. Coming with him gave you relief you didn’t know you needed. The goshiwon wasn’t the nicest, but it wasn’t the worst either. His floormates didn’t seem too bad. Maybe he could even make friends, but you didn’t have to worry too much because you already knew your brother would keep him more than enough company. He had you too. He wouldn’t be lonely. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said, back still facing you. You give him a sad smile he couldn’t even see.

“Of course. I want to be here,” you assured him. He looked over his shoulder at you sitting on his bed and smiled. “I’ll always be here for you. Me and my brother,” you added. He finally sat next to you, but didn’t say a word for a while. You let him take his time, knowing he must be trying to process everything. When he finally looked at you, you saw the tears spilling from his eyes. Acting on pure instinct, you pull him to your chest and let him cry against you. He held onto you so tight, as if he thought you’d run away if he let go. You ran your hand through his soft smooth locks to calm his nerves. He felt the rise and fall of your chest with every breath, and it soothed him beyond explanation. Maybe it was because it solidified your presence in his mind. He was able to regain his composure, feeling his tears come to an end.

“That’s all I need,” he whispered. He sat up and nodded, as if to convince himself he’ll be fine. You laid your head on his shoulder and took in the new setting with him. He admired the way you so neatly organized his things into the shelving over the desk. Maybe he was happy that your brother sent you instead because you gave him the kind of peace he'd probably never be able to find in anybody else. He felt you wrap your hand around his and reciprocated eagerly. Your eyes fell on the clock on the corner of his desk. It was getting late and your campus was an hour and a half away. You lifted your head from his shoulder and cleared your throat.

“I should get going,” you announced, still holding onto his hand.

“Stay,” Yoongi said immediately. He didn’t get the chance to think about what he was saying until it was too late. His cheeks tinted pink, and he avoided looking at your wide-eyed expression. “I mean I know I don’t have much space in here, but it’s dark out and you have a long drive. You can stay if you want.” Your eyes softened at his words. You could tell that he didn’t really want to be left alone, even if he wasn’t going to tell you straight up. 

“Ok,” you answered, feeling a bit unsure of how it would go, but when you saw his shoulders relax you let go of your own unease. He looked at you with a weak smile before looking back down and letting it fall from his face.

“We should probably get changed,” he suggested. You looked down at your laps, realizing that you were both wearing jeans. He got up and pulled out some clothes for the both of you. He set them on the bed and opened a new pack of toothbrushes, putting one down for you as well. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, “I’ll go see if someone will let me into the bathroom on the women’s floor.” He nodded, still feeling hesitant to look you in the eye after his brazen request. He was probably breaking some of the goshiwon rules by asking you to stay with him, but you didn’t even object. He knew how much of a stickler you were for the rules, and how nervous you probably were to get caught. A bit of guilt surfaced in him. He pushed his thoughts aside and used the chance of you not being there to get changed. Right as he walked out of the bathroom he got a text from you to come open the door. When he did, he was met with the unexpected sight of your sweet smile and sparkling eyes. That paired with you in his oversized t-shirt and pajama pants made his heart do something strange and unexplainable. He shook himself out of his thoughts and let you in. You skipped all the way to his room, making him smile as he opened the door to his room. You seemed happy.

“What’s got you all excited?” He asked, watching you make yourself comfortable on his bed. 

“I met this girl downstairs who was so sweet. She let me into the women’s floor and even insisted on sharing her skincare with me. I got her phone number,” you told him excitedly. He smiled at you, looking you up and down. Of course, you already made a friend. 

“That’s nice,” he hummed, getting in under the blanket with you. He let out a sigh of relief when he was finally in bed. The blanket was so soft and warm that it felt like heaven to have it wrapped around him. He groaned, pulling it up all the way around him so that it would engulf him. He almost forgot you were there until he heard your giggles.

“I told you you would like this blanket,” you said from over the blockade he created with it. He pulled the blanket down just enough to see your face, and gave you a defeated nod. Yes, he did complain when you gave it to him because it was pink and fluffy with little cats and dogs printed on it, but he couldn’t deny that it was great.

“Still looks like it belongs to a five-year-old,” he grumbled with eyes shut.

“Ok, yes, it’s a kids blanket, but it’s cozy anyways!!!” You defended your choices. “Plus, it’s cute and it made me think of you.” He frowned at that, glaring at you. Instead of being deterred by that you just laughed at him. “Look,” you held up a section of the blanket that had a cat on it making a -ㅅ- face, “this one looks like you right now. You’re even making the same face!” He tried to keep up his unamused act, but he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from rising. 

“You’re saying I look like a cat, huh?” He asked in a way that dared you to say yes and find out the consequences. 

“Absolutely, you do,” you answered immediately. 

“Take it back,” he demanded.

“Nope,” you teased, popping the p. 

“Take it back,” he repeated. You felt his hand drift up to your waist, fingers ghosting over your sides and making you shiver. 

“Or what?” You tried to seem unfazed by his touch. He raised an eyebrow at you, and before you knew it he was hovering above you. The situation reminded you of three years ago when you kissed him. Except the positions were flipped; he was in control. The thought had your heart skipping a beat. 

“I’ll tickle you,” he threatened. What he wasn’t expecting was the smug look that crossed your face.

“Do it,” you dared him. “I’ll cause a ruckus, and you’ll get kicked out of here on your first night.”

“You’re an evil one, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. 

“Maybe.” You smiled up at him. His eyes fell to your lips and for a moment he thought about kissing them. Not because you asked him like three years ago but because he wanted to. His eyes found yours again, and you had gone silent, watching his every move eagerly. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and let his hand stay on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. The way your breath hitched at the contact didn’t go unnoticed by him, only urging him to get closer to you. Your hands gripped onto the collar of his shirt, holding him to you. When his lips were only centimeters away from yours, his phone rang like a wake-up call. He got off you and stumbled to reach his phone. It was your brother. He looked at you and answered the call.

“Hey. Yeah, everything is done. Uh, no, she’s still here. Got late, didn’t want her to drive back. Sure, yeah thanks. Night.” You heard him speak into the phone before he hung up and set it back down. Seeing you in his clothes, in his bed–where he almost kissed you, felt so wrong now. He never told your brother how he felt about you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure until he was looking down at your pretty face and saw the way your eyes glittered at him. He knew if he kissed you this time it wouldn’t be a one-time thing you’d never speak about like it was three years ago. He wanted you, and once he got you there was no going back. He scratched the back of his neck and looked around before getting back into bed with you. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between you, but that proved to be extremely difficult in the small goshiwon bed. You lifted your head and frowned at the sight of nearly half his body hanging off the side of the bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, but before he could even answer he felt your hand on his waist, pulling him closer to you. You manhandled him a bit to get him in the position you want (little spoon) and wrapped your arms and legs around him. He would have laughed, had he not felt like he should be running away. He let out a shaky breath when he felt you snuggle into his shoulder. He rested his arm over the one you had wound against his torso and intertwined your hands, letting himself enjoy the last time he’d let himself get this close to you. 

26:28 (Now)

You used to cook him food and bring it to him on your days off when he was still living in the goshiwon. He knew you were using your free time to take care of him because you wanted him to have something delicious whenever he could, but he never showed how much he really appreciated it. When you drove an hour and a half there and back every Saturday and Sunday, all he did was say thank you and shut the door in your face. He knew he sent you home crying more times than he cared to admit, but it was the only option. At least that’s how he saw it. When he finally established himself as a producer and moved out of the goshiwon, you were the person proudest of him. And now that he was successful enough to have a nice apartment in the center of Seoul, you were still the person who stood behind him. You still took care of him like you always have. You’d come over when he was too busy to leave his in-home studio and cook for him to make sure he had something delicious to eat. Just like you always had. You used his fancy kitchen more than he did. 

The aroma made its way into the studio, making him subconsciously follow it all the way back to the kitchen. He smiled seeing you dancing around with a wooden ladle in your hand to the music coming out of the surround sound speakers he set up all over the apartment. He’d gotten so used to seeing you there, in his home, that it felt like you belonged there. He nearly came up to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest but stopped himself mid-way. If life was like his fantasies then he’d already have his arms around you and his chin rested on your shoulder. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear and call you baby just to see how you’d react. Then he’d say, ‘why don’t you just move in with me? You practically live here anyway.’ But that’s not what happened because life isn’t one of his daydreams. You turned around and smiled at him so beautifully he wanted to cry. He didn’t understand how you could still love him so much. He knew you had to resent him just a little. Of course, you did. There was no way someone could make you cry every time you saw them and not make you hate them just a little bit. Of course, you hate him, but how can you love him enough to pretend you don't? How could you love him at all? What really happened was a harsh contrast to Yoongi’s fantasies. You watched him close his eyes and bring a hand up to pinch his nose, letting out an irritated breath. 

“Why do you always come here uninvited and act like it’s your house?” He spat out. He watched the smile fall right off your face, and man he wished he didn’t speak. He knew this wasn’t the first time he hurt you, far from it, but it usually wasn’t because of the things he said but because of the things he didn’t say. He knew his words cut deeper than any knife. The blades of his words stung like poison, and he could see it on your face. You set the ladle down and took off the apron you were wearing, making sure to turn off the stove too. Knowing he was the reason all the happiness suddenly drained out of your face made him want to throw up all the contents of his stomach. You scoff, shaking your head at all the things you had set up for him.

“I really don’t know,” you say with more resignation than anger, and it kills him. You still couldn’t yell at him when he knew he deserved a hard slap to the face or maybe 10. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up here uninvited ever again,” you say, looking him in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me showing up at all.” Now, he could see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You never let him see you cry; you always waited until you were at least in the safety of your car. He couldn’t process what you were saying until you were already at his door with your shoes on.  

“Wait! I-,” he called out to you, but you just shut the door and left. He panicked running out to catch up to you before you left. He sees you walking into the elevator and by some luck, he catches your wrist before you can go in. You turn to face him, eyes all red and puffy. “I’m sorry, I fucked up,” he says, holding onto your hand. 

“You always fuck up.” He knows this already but hearing you say it made his heart crack. 

“I fucked up, even more, today,” he corrects. You didn’t say anything else, just looked at him like you would rather be standing in front of anyone else. “Just stay, and please let me try to fix it.” You gave him a sad smile that told him you didn’t believe he could.

“I broke my promise,”  you chuckle sadly. He looked at you with confusion, eyes begging for an explanation. “You made me promise not to let boys make me cry and feel like shit, but I haven’t been keeping that promise. I just never thought you’d be the reason, not back then.” You look down and swallow roughly. “All these years I thought you were just tolerating me, but now I know that you were barely even doing that.”

“That’s not true,” he tells you. 

“Then what is? You made it clear how you feel about me hanging around you.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you did,” you say, giving him that same sad smile. “I don’t know why I tried so hard when I knew you felt this way. I guess I was holding onto the past.” You laugh at your own stupidity. “I was waiting for the old Yoongi to come back. The one that made me feel like he loved me. The one that looked at me like he wanted nothing more than to kiss me that night in the goshiwon. But I don’t know what happened to him. It seems like he disappeared with that moment, and I was naively optimistic in thinking he’d ever come back.”

“He’s still there. He’s always been there,” he says, holding both of your hands and urging you to believe him.

“Is he? Then why do you do this to me? I haven’t seen you smile at me in 5 years.”

“I was scared to lose you. To lose everyone I love,” he admits. You tilt your head at him and look at him with the uttermost disgust. He’s never seen you look at anyone like that, especially not him.

“So, you thought the best way to keep me around was to treat me like shit?” You spit out the question. 

“I thought that the best way to pretend I don’t love you more than just a friend was to distance myself from you. I never meant for it to go so far, but you kept loving me no matter how indifferent I pretended to be. For a second, I thought you hating me would be better, but maybe I’m selfish because I don’t want that,” he explains, leaving you even more confused.

“Yoongi,” you say almost as a plea. A plea to stop messing with your feelings. “You’re not making any sense,” you say softly.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. So much so that I’m scared of it. I’m scared that me loving you wouldn’t be ok with your brother, and I’ll end up losing my friendship with him because of it. And if I lose him I lose you too. I’m scared that maybe one day you’ll turn around and say ‘sorry Yoongi, but I don’t love you anymore’. Then where will I be? I don’t want to lose the two most important people in my life. Especially not you.” You feel your heart in your throat, and think you might just shut down right there. 

“My brother doesn’t have a say in how you feel about me, and I think you already know I can’t fall out of love with you. Believe me, I’ve tried,” you confess, making his heart drop. Even though he’s been trying so hard to get you not to love him anymore, the thought of it actually working makes his whole body ache. “You don’t treat people you love the way you treated me, especially when they love you as much as I do.”

“I know. I just don’t want to lose any more people in my life. I couldn’t risk it. I would rather have you in my life hating me than not there at all.” He looks at you, hoping you’d understand him. “But what I can’t handle is you hating me and walking out of my life, so please I–” his voice cracks, making you whip your head up to see him crying, “I need you to stay. I need you in my life. I won’t hurt you again. I need you to believe that I’m still the same person who loved you all those years ago. Who loves you now.”

“How can I do that, Yoongi?” You look into his eyes intently. “How can I do that when I don’t even remember what your love feels like?” Your question was enough to turn the crack in Yoongi’s heart into a fault line, only needing one last earthquake to shatter it completely. He shuts his mouth not knowing what to say to you. You pull your hands away from his and press the elevator button. It doesn’t take more than 10 seconds for the doors to open again. “Goodbye, Yoongi,” you say, as the doors finally shut. He walks back to his apartment, and nothing feels real until he smells the aroma still lingering in his home. He walks down to the kitchen, seeing two glasses and a new bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey sitting next to them. That’s the first time you’ve set two glasses; you were planning to stay and eat with him. And that was the earthquake that broke his heart into tiny pieces. 

How different would it be if he just let himself hold you when he wanted to? If he let himself love you when he wanted to? If he kissed you that night in the goshiwon?

[amazingmaeve]

Tolerate it ↠ Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley Masterlist // Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Fred had an amazing love story throughout Hogwarts. But things start to go sour after the 2nd wizarding war.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of sex, panic attacks

AN: Hope this works out ok!

While at Hogwarts Y/N and Fred’s relationship was better than ever. They did everything together. Well not everything since George was with Fred as well.

Y/N would help him and George with their pranks and all of them would serve detention together as well.

Even though they hung around George a lot he had a life of his own which gave Y/N and Fred to spend sometime alone together. Which the two lovers appreciated.

Y/N and Fred got together in their 4th year when Fred finally gained the confidence to ask Y/N out. The three of them have been best friends ever since their 1st year when she got put her into Gryffindor.

Then when the Yule ball came around a couple years later Fred made a big deal on how he asked her out. There were fireworks that spelled out ‘Will you go to the ball with’.

As the words painted the sky Y/N accepted with tears in the corner in her eyes and then went to hug Fred.

In their 7th year Umbridge came to the school to ruin there lives.

Fred and Y/N couldn’t even hug without Umbridge splitting the two up. When they got the detentions Y/N would comfort Fred laying down with his head in the crook of her neck.

Y/N would stroke his back comforting him.

When Y/N got her first detention with the blood quil Y/N had avoided Fred not wanting him to be angry. He already cut her out of pranks not wanting her to get hurt.

Then Y/N finally decided to talk to Fred and he was livid when he found out. But with Y/N crying on the couch in the common room he pushed his anger aside to hug her trying to get he sobs to calm down.

Y/N eventually fell asleep on his chest and Fred took her to her dorm room and laid the girl down who was fast asleep.

Y/N had always supported the twins and their joke shop.

She told him “follow your dreams Fred,” which he did.

When Fred and George decided to leave Y/N was the first one to know. She offered to go with them but Fred knew how much her education meant to her and decided against.

Y/N was angry at first but slowly came around. There wasn’t that much of school left so she would be leaving soon.

The night before Fred and George left Y/N finally gained enough confidence to tell Fred she loved him. It was the first time she has ever said that to him.

Fred immediately kissed her and after he told her he loved her as well. That was the night the two lost their virginity’s.

Then the school year was over in what a felt like a whole year to Y/N.

For the next full year Y/N moved in with Fred and George and started working with them. Their relationship was growing stronger and stronger everyday.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered one night to Fred whole they were in bed. Her head was laid on his shoulder. The two loved birds were just finished from the 2nd time they’ve had sex that night. The two were extremely tired.

“Love you too darling,” Fred kissed her forehead and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “Will always love you forever,” He promised.

“Forever,” Y/N repeated nuzzling her head into his chest started to feel that tiredness come back. “Good night love,” she whispered.

“Good night darling,” Y/N could hear Fred just before she slipped into deep sleep.

Fred could feel a smirk on his face as he heard her snoring slightly. Fred knew this was the woman he was going to get married have kids. Fred couldn’t wait for the day.

Whenever they did something lovey dovey George would gag at his brother and girlfriend in a jokingly manor. The truth was that George loved having his best friend around and that his best friend and brother were hopelessly in love.

The whole year was like a fairytale for the both of them.

But sometimes fairytales don’t have good endings, and the 2nd wizarding war was going to be come crashing in on their little bubble they loved so much.

The wizarding war was the hardest things Y/N had to go through. With the fighting and death and the worst part was that Fred almost died.

Luckily he didn’t but it was a close call.

Y/N was the first one to find him passed out on the ground rubble all around him. Y/N immediately ran towards him grabbing his face while tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No no no,” Y/N whispered as she put her fingers on his neck to see if he had a pulse.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when he did have and when he suddenly woke up.

“What happened why’re you crying love,” Fred groaned as he tried to get up and when he did Y/N wrapped her arms around him violently sobbing into his chest.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest not wanting to let him go.

“Can’t get rid of me love,” Fred jokes pulling Y/N up to stand. He wrapped his arms around the girl who’s sobs were dying down.

“Don’t joke around about this,” Y/N sniffed finally removing herself from his chest looking up at the red head who gave her a sad smile.

“Sorry but I’m right here and I’m fine,” Fred reassured Y/N wiping the tears from under her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know weather to believe him or not but right Fred was okay and that’s all that matters. He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed the top of her head in a comforting manor.

In that moment nothing mattered Fred was alive and that’s everything.

Y/N and Fred were taking a few days off from work and she didn’t want to get special treatment and Fred thought the same. So she got a job at a book store.

For the next few everything was ok. Y/N and Fred got a flat for themselves and everything was settling in.

Fred was a little off though. Just little things at the time. He wouldn’t ask her about her day, he wouldn’t tell her he loved her before he left for work.

Y/N didn’t mention it to him thinking it was her just being clingy. And plus she didn’t want to add to his plate since the war just ended.

And he was getting nightmares to the point where he woke up screaming. On those nights Y/ would have get him out of sleep and let him sob into her chest as Y/N strokes the back of his neck comforting him.

Y/N’s tried bringing it up but he avoided the conversation. She just wanted to know what was going on in his head.

She didn’t bring it up because Y/N didn’t want to make things worse for him.

They talked less and less each day and Y/N thought Fred was like this all the time. That was until she went to go and visit him and saw him laughs with George.

Her heart swelled knowing he’s happy but her brain wondered why he wasn’t doing that with her. Y/N shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts and was just happy he was happy.

The days went on and Y/N could feel her heart break and break even more. Fred barely smiled when he was at the flat.

At first Y/N thought Fred just needed space from her and she didn’t blame him for that. In relationships sometimes the two people needed to talk and be around friends, family.

Y/N felt like she couldn’t even feel his love and he was just tolerating hers.

But this has been going on for a couple months and Y/N could feel herself start to feel like she had no one to talk to. George was always around Fred and would feel bad if he knew she was talking to his brothers/family.

Like with her job Y/N’s boss was being a bit rude and she didn’t know who talk too.

Sometimes the loneliness got hard. With the effects of the war Y/N often get panic attacks where Y/N could feel the walls close in on her. She could feel her breathing start her faster and faster.

Then Y/N found a place where she could calm down. A beach where she would just listen to waves crashing and the animals making there noises.

But it didn’t solve her problems with Fred.

At the 3 month mark Y/N kept throwing up in the morning for 2 weeks straight. It was easy to hide it from Fred since the two barely talked and he left from work early.

Then she noticed she missed her period. Y/N and Fred rarely have sex since the war but one drunk night they had together must of been it.

Y/N wanted to be sure so she got a test from the wizarding world that would tell her if she was pregnant 100%.

As Y/N paced in her and Fred’s shared bathroom she began to think about how Fred was gonna take it. Fred always told Y/N he wanted kids but now she doesn’t know.

Would bringing a baby into the mix make things worse? Would Fred be mad at her?

When it was time to look at the test Y/N took a deep breath before picking up the test and let out a sad sigh.

Positive.

Y/N put her hand on her belly and smiled. She was already love her/him. This was something her and Fred created together.

Maybe this will help Y/N’s and Fred’s relationship.

Y/N looked at the time and noticed it was only 1. It was her day off. Y/N wanted to tell Fred immediately.

Y/N grabbed her coat with bubbling excitement as she strolled to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a smile on her face. Even though the past months haven’t been good for her this was a good thing to happen to Y/N.

The shop was filled with loads and loads of customers when Y/N entered the shop. As her eyes roamed the store Y/N could see Fred talking with someone with a smile on his face.

Angelina Johnson.

Y/N didn’t hate the girl they were friends in school. But when Fred and Y/N were just friends he told her he had a crush on Angelina which made Y/N jealous.

But she could never hate Angelina. She was so sweet and Angelina even reassured Y/N that she didn’t like Fred.

But now Y/N could feel her stomach turn as Fred laughed at something Angelina said. Did he still have feelings for her? Is that why he was around as much?

Y/N felt tears brim her eyes as Fred looked so happy. And it hurt her so much to see that he wasn’t happy with her.

She bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing and breaking down.

Y/N rushed out of the shop with tears staining her cheeks as she ran home getting looks from strangers.

Once Y/N reached the flat Y/N took her jacket off and let out a sob as she laid down her and Fred’s bed.

Y/N curled up into a ball trying to get herself to calm down. She didn’t understand why Fred was treating herself this way.

Y/N thought she would be happy with him.

Y/N put her hand on her stomach where there would be a bump in months. She didn’t know what to do now.

Y/N must’ve cried for hours when she heard Fred yell “I’m home.”

Y/N looked at the clock and noticed it was 5 with a surprised look on her face. Y/N could hear Fred enter the bed room with a confused look on his face.

“What’s wrong love,” Fred asked and he sounded concerned. This was the first time she heard Fred sound like he cared for her in a while.

“Nothing,” Y/N scoffed rolling her eyes at the red haired boy.

“Odiously something’s,” Fred sat down on the foot of the bed by the side of the bed she was. He put his hand on her leg and gave it a squeeze to get her attention.

“What,” Y/N snapped sitting up to look up at him.

“Why’re you crying love,” Fred asked concern lacing his words as he cupped Y/N’s cheek wiping the tears away.

“Why do you care,” Y/N could feel more tears coming and with her being pregnant didn’t help her.

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you,” Fred softly replied.

“Why now?” Y/N questioned as he gave her a confused look. “Huh. For the last few months you have been avoiding me not talking to me and now you want to know how I feel,” She could feel anger fume in her as Fred looked at her.

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Fred avoided eye contact.

“Just stop lying you’re happy with everyone but me. Hell you’re even more happy with other girls than me,” Y/N huffed looking at the boy.

“I haven’t been talking to other girls,” Fred snapped.

“I saw you with Angelina laughing and smiling and talking,” Y/N whispered angrily.

“We were just talking and why were you at the shop,” Fred asked annoyance in his eyes.

He knows he’s being unreasonable and he knows he’s been distance. Fred didn’t mean to be but when other people asked how he was he could lie but not to Y/N.

“I wanted to tell you I was pregnant but you looked pretty busy,” Y/N had irritation in her voice as she shouted.

“What,” Fred asked flabbergasted with his eyes wide and his face full of shock.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N huffed and went to lay down even thought it’s only 5:20.

But Fred doesn’t let her as he grabs her hand to pull her up into a hug. He hides his face in the crook of her neck missing the smell of her shampoo.

“I can’t believe it,” Fred smiled.

“Fred we’ve barely talked the last months and now you just won’t leave me alone,” Y/N snapped pushing him away.

“I’m so sorry love,” Fred looked at Y/N with tears coating his eyes.

“I just want to know why,” Y/N desperately asked feeling out of ideas.

“I couldn’t lie to you,” Fred blurted out.

“What,” Y/N asked as she scrunched her face up with confusion.

“When you ask me if I was fine I can’t say yes like with everyone else,” Fred whispered. Y/N looks up at him with sorrow in her eyes. “Ever since the war it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes and I wake up with nightmares bothering you.”

“Fred,” Y/N whispered reaching towards to touch his face. “You could’ve just talked to me,” She smiles at him.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Fred rolled his eyes at himself feeling horrible for the way he treated the love of his life.

“You could never bother me with your problems,” Y/N removed her hand from his face grabbing his hand.

“Will you forgive me,” Fred asked hoping he could get another chance.

“Yes,” Y/N sighed and she loved the way his eyes brightened. “But we have to talk more often please,” She pleaded.

“Of course of course,” Fred rushed out and grabbed Y/N’s face to kiss her.

“I love you so much darling.”

“I love you too Freddie.”

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Cardigan (Wolfstar)

I sat down to write a teeny drabble with two lines from the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift. It quickly spiralled into this. (I really love it though).

Set in the cannon universe, cw for mentions of death, injuries and scars. (Nothing graphic though).

I knew you, dancing in your Levi’s drunk under a streetlight. 

“Shh! Pads. you’re gonna get us caught!” Remus half-whispered, his own voice a tad too loud for his own liking but his slightly tipsy state didn’t allow for a lower volume. Sirius spun into him smushing his fingers right up against Remus’ lips, both of them chest to chest under James’ cloak. It was hard to believe the four of them mused to fit under this - now it only just about covered Remus and Sirius even with Remus ducking down to Sirius’ height. 

“Come on Moony, you’re ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’,” He said, punctuating each word of the grand title with his index finger poking into Remus; chest. “Even if we do get caught, you can charm our way out of it.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but followed. The passage was dim and the ground was uneven and to be perfectly honest, they hadn’t yet discovered if this particular passage way had been caved in since they last explored it the previous year, but Sirius seemed sure of himself and that was enough for Remus. If Sirius was the one leading, he’d always follow. 

“Alright, but I’m late on a transfiguration essay, so if Minnie catches us, you’re on your own. I need to save my charm for that.” He said, his tone stern, but all his reserve melted when Sirius smiled up at him and pressed a victorious kiss to his cheek. 

“I take back your title.” Sirius said dramatically, looking at Remus with a smug righteousness. “Apparently ‘Perfect Mister Prefect’ isn’t so perfect after all.”

He pressed his mouth right up next to Remus’ ear just as they stepped out the little secret entrance, ducking under the ivy trellis that hid their little passageway. “It’s a good thing I like bad boys.” Sirius breathed, and Remus couldn’t wait any more, not caring whether the cloak revealed their ankles or not when he pulled Sirius in for a blazing kiss. 

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Sirius smirked and kissed him again. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

Remus laughed and took off walking again, tugging the cloak off as soon as they were far enough away from the school, catching hands and spinning under the soft glow of the lamplights illuminating the path to Hogsmeade. Sirius tilted his head back, still spinning, their hands acting as the axis that centred the entire universe. 

“I love you too.”

I knew you, hands under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better. 

“Sirius, if you don’t start being more careful, I’m gonna-”

“What?” Sirius teased, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, looking far too haughty for a man sitting on a countertop, his legs dangling in the air. “What’re you gonna do Re? You gonna punish me?”

Remus pursed his lips to try hide his smile, but gave in, kissing Sirius once briefly.

“No,” He said, pulling up Sirius’ jumper to get a proper look at the gash he had acquired after climbing a tree. Then subsequently falling out of said tree. “But I will send you to Madam Pomfrey and have you try to explain to her that you thought you’d be able to pull off a levitation charm if there was a ‘more extreme sense of urgency’.” He finished, mocking Sirius’ words from earlier. 

Sirius just scrunched up his face playfully in retaliation, before breathing in shakily as Remus coated the cut with a liberal amount of salve, watching in fascination as the skin knitted back together.

“There.” He said, straightening up to stand between Sirius’ legs, pulling down his jumper again. “Good as new.”

“Nah ah.” Sirius countered, shaking his head as his legs locked behind Remus’ back, binding them together. “Gotta kiss it better.”

Remus wet his lips, shaking his head in fond disbelief, but leaned in willingly, feeling the hot slide of Sirius’ mouth against his own cooler one. 

“All better?” Remus asked, panting slightly as they rested their foreheads together. 

Sirius shrugged, hooking his arm more firmly around Remus’ neck. “Close, but not quite better yet.”

Remus huffed a laugh through his nose, but gladly locked their lips together again, the pair fully intertwined as if they had been made for each other. 

(And maybe they had. For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“Sirius?” Re said softly, pushing the door to their dorm open slowly. “Are you here?”

“Yeah,” Came a muffled reply. “I’m here.”

Remus stepped into the room, looking first to Sirius’ bed to find it empty. Remus frowned, looking around to find Sirius curled up on Remus’ own bed, his favourite cardigan folded gently around him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Remus said, voice hushed as he climbed onto the bed next to the other boy, noting the red stained eyes and puffed lips. “What do you need?”

At the words, anything that seemed to be holding Sirius together until that point shattered, the raven haired boy collapsing into Sirius’ arms. 

“Re,” He gasped, between his sobs as Remus just pulled him closer. “Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Isn’t love supposed to be good? If it’s so great, then why the fuck does it hurt so much?”

Remus’ heart clenched. Regulus. 

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He murmured, holding Sirius close. “But it makes us who we are.” He cupped Sirius’ face so he could meet the raging stormy eyes. “It’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all.”

Sirius just blinked at him. 

“But for the record,” Remus said, touching their heads together. “I don’t think you’ve lost him. He’s just lost right now. But he’ll find his way back to you.”

Sirius nodded, and slumped against Remus’ chest, no longer crying, just breathing deeply. 

“You know Remus Lupin,” He whispered after a while. “I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m gonna marry you someday.”

To kiss in cars, and downtown bars, was all we needed.

“Oh Merlin, they’re snogging again.” Peter commented as he turned his head to spot James and Lily, leaning in for a kiss. Remus, currently with his tongue in Sirius’ mouth heard this, but let Peter discover the other couple in his own time.

“Christ, the pair of you are too. You’re all fuckin at it.” He grumbled. If Remus’ mouth wasn’t already a little preoccupied, he would have laughed. There it was.

“Right, I’m off to find humans capable of holding decent conversation.” Peter muttered and he might have left. He could have stayed and done a jig on the table for all Remus cared, but in this moment, he noticed none of it. What was the poem he had read somewhere? Stars and moths and rinds slanting around fruit. This moment.

You drew stars around my scars and now I’m bleeding. 

“Hey, look at this.” Sirius said somewhat excitedly, rolling away from Remus momentarily and returning with a quill and a jar of ink. 

Remus eyed him skeptically, his arm tucked under his head as they lounged on his bed, the curtains drawn to create the illusion of their own little oasis. 

“I bet I could draw stars on your chest and then your scars could connect them, like in astronomy.”

Remus bit his lip, looking at Sirius’ appraised expression. “I feel like I should say no,” He said slowly, even as he unscrewed the ink. “But go for it.”

Sirius grinned triumphantly and studied Remus for a minute, brushing the quill over his lips as he concentrated. Remus couldn’t help but muse that if Sirius put half as much effort into his schoolwork as he was doing here, he would be top of the class. Finally, Sirius ditched the quill, dipping a finger into the ink directly. 

“I don’t want the point of the quill to scratch you.” He explained, after noticing Remus’ raised eyebrow. Something warmed inside Remus’ chest while something cold trickled over the outside. Remus closed his eyes and let himself focus on the slightly ticklish, but mostly soothing sensation of Sirius tracing patterns over his skin. 

“Done.” Sirius muttered after a while and Remus opened his eyes, raising his head a little to peer down at himself. He looked like some abstract piece of art, covered in black and blue and red and green, scars shining silver between it all. 

“Woah,” He breathed, “That’s pretty cool.”

Sirius grinned, then pointed to a star just over Remus; appendix. “That’s Sirius right there.”

Remus hummed, pursing his lips together, then grabbed a jar of ink, tracing a star a little messily, right over his heart. 

“Nah,” He countered, “Sirius is there.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but came up to press their lips together. In the morning, they both looked like works of art.

But I knew you, stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain. 

“I can’t believe this is the last time we’ll be taking this train.” James said, the four of them standing in a row on the platform, not yet ready to get on. 

“We’ll be back.” Remus said. “Someday, we’ll be back.”

Sirius linked their fingers together. As one, the marauders stepped onto the train. 

Mischief Managed.

I knew you, tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.

Remus just stared at the auror. 

“Mr Lupin,” The man said gently, playing his hand tenderly on Remus’ arm. Remus didn’t know what his name was. It was probable the man had said it but Remus wasn’t listening. Everything had gone dark. “I realise this must come as a shock.”

Remus wrenched his arm back, shaking his head. “A shock?” He laughed a little manically. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Mr Lupin, we have evidence that Sirius Black was the one to-”

“Well you’re wrong!” Remus yelled. Or maybe he had whispered. It was possible he hadn’t even spoken at all, but the words swirled around and around in his head. “I don’t know how, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong, this isn’t right, you have it all wrong, he would never-”

Remus gasped, pressing a hand to his cracking heart as if it would hold him together. “He would never.” He repeated, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. When they had gotten there, he didn’t know, but their presence was suddenly noticeable with the cold rush against Remus’ skin. 

“I’m so sorry.” The auror said and then he was gone. And Remus was alone. 

Had it always been this way? Remus alone. Remus with friends. Remus with Sirius. Remus alone. 

Maybe he had made the entire thing up. 

But dreams didn’t leave you feeling like the last kiss you’d ever had was from a  dementor, not your true love. 

It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. He had said that to Sirius once. 

What a fool he had been. 

I knew you, leaving like a father, running like water, when you are young they assume you know nothing. 

“It is believed this was a plan Mr Black had been staging for quite some time now.” A newspaper read. Remus snorted and threw it in the fire. Sirius couldn’t even plan a week in advance. What they fuck did these people know. 

But then, what did Remus know? His love was long lost, Rapunzel in a tower. Remus was no knight. 

But he knew in his heart, none of this was true. He knew. He didn't care what anyone else said, they may have known his thoughts, but Remus knew his heart. 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss. 

Sirius’ leather jacket still hung in the cupboard under the stairs. His hair potion, still in the shower. Remus couldn’t bear to see them. He could never throw them away. 

I knew you’d haunt all of my what if’s.

Remus should have fought harder for Harry. 

He should have, he should have, he should have, he should have. 

He should have known better.

What if.

A smirking smile and stormy eyes. Hair held up with a wand. Those same dark strands coiled around Remus’ fingers. 

The smell of smoke would hang around this long. Cause I knew everything when I was young. 

Remus woke up to James’ scream. Except it couldn’t be James. Unless… Had this all been a dream?

James opened his eyes and suddenly there was Lily. Lily and James and they didn’t know who Remus was. 

(Remus had been the first one to hold baby Harry. Before even Sirius. And now he didn’t even know him)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time. 

Remus hated Sirius. Not for being the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. But for leaving him alone.

Why is it possible to love someone who hates you? Remus wanted to laugh. His question to Sirius now would be this; Why couldn’t he stop loving someone he should hate.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

The students all murmured about the Grimm. The paintings gossiped about little else. Even the staff room had a few words on the subject matter. Remus tried not to let his heart flutter. 

(But his boy was free. And there was a grim on the loose).

I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.

Walking down to Hagrid's hut, Remus thought he saw something rustle in the bushes. He stepped off the path and looked closer, barely even breathing as his heart thundered, but the shadows that had lurked were gone. 

And you’d be standing in my front porch light.

“Lie low at Lupins.”

For the first time in twelve years, amber met grey. 

“Re,” Sirius croaked, and Remus shattered. He pulled Sirius inside the door quickly, shutting it and reinforcing all of the charms around his little cottage, drawing all the blinds shut and placing a charm around the area so he would know if anyone approached the house before he finally turned, and there he was. 

And I knew you’d come back to me.

Not Mass Murderer Sirius Black. 

Not even Padfoot. 

But Sirius. Remus’ Sirius. 

“Re,” Sirius said again, “It’s not true, it’s not true.” He said, repeating the words as he shook his head, eyes filling. “It’s not true, I would never.”

He would never.

Remus shook his head too, pulling Sirius into the tightest hug they ever might have shared. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

You’d come back to me.

Sirius after a few weeks of good food and warmth looked a lot more like the boy Remus had once known, but there was no denying the person with his was now a man. Remus supposed they both were. 

You’d come back.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered one night as they were curled under a blanket, Remus reading as Sirius lay on his chest, the position comforting and oh so familiar. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?”

Remus’ heart cracked as he set down his book and curled his fingers gently around Sirius’ jaw, tilting his head so Remus could look into that swirling sea. 

“Love you again?” He said, his voice nearly cracking in disbelief. “Pads, how could I love you again when I never stopped?”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite. 

“I can’t believe you still have this.” Sirius whispered, pulling the same cardigan he always stole out of the back of Remus’ drawer. 

“It used to smell like you.” Remus admitted. “But I wore it too much, I missed you too much.”

Sirius smiled, shrugging it on, it curling around his shoulders the way he curled into Remus, tilting his head up and pressing his lips against Remus’. 

“I can fix that.” He whispered and Remus held him close, taking his time. 

(For what else was the moon to do but love the stars?)

[henryhas2moms]

who’s a swiftie? ouat edition

regina is the biggest swiftie of all!! (and she’s only a little embarrassed about it) the horse girl romanticism! the edgy persona! the doomed love affairs! she has at least three different playlists— one for crying that includes white horse, sad beautiful tragic, the archer, one for feeling like a bad bitch that’s mostly just songs from reputation along with blank space and the last great great american dynasty, and an emma playlist that includes peace, hoax, state of grace, haunted… dress. she had a henry playlist but it’s just her listening to never grow up on repeat while henry’s on his little motorcycle trip or when he’s at the charming’s place for the weekend

emma is NOT a swiftie! but she does have a fond nostalgia for the older country hits she remembers from the radio— our song, you belong with me, even red. but when regina makes her listen to folklore/evermore though and she stares into space for minutes seconds while seven plays. some more songs eventually grow on her. when she moves out of her parents house she listens to never grow up and has a little cry.

henry is a swiftie! he loves folklore/evermore and her more storytelling songs, and the fairytale motifs in speak now. long live is integral to his parent trap playlist, and it eventually becomes a big swan mills family song and henry loves to listen to it and mythologize their lives

snow is absolutely a swiftie! she loves the cute sappy love songs like love story, enchanted, wildest dreams, lover. she plays yntcd for emma and emma is like “greeeeeat… thaaaaaanks mom! 😬” she tells regina it’s nice to have a friend makes her think of her and regina doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s on her emma playlist so she makes a snow playlist that spans from seven to look what you made me do to inthaf.

(regina’s snow playlist is more of a narrative while her emma playlist is more angsty love songs bc if she used a taylor swift song for every way she’s ever felt about emma that would be like. every taylor swift song lol)

david is not really a swiftie but he also likes the cute little pop songs especially the family ones like the best day, never grow up, superman

zelena likes the pop albums, 1989, reputation, bits of lover, anything fun and sexy! but everytime taylor has a feud she sides with the other person just to piss regina off (and even though regina is more invested in the music than the celebrity, it always works), katy perry, kim and kanye, karlie kloss (“who the hell cares about karlie kloss??” “she codes! she’s a girl boss!” “who the hell cares about coding??”)

hook is not a swiftie lmao, he would actually be one of those people who say things like “support group for taylor swifts exes lol” “you’re friend sends you on a blind date with taylor swift— you have one hour before she starts writing a breakup album about you” that kind of misogynistic bullshit, but if he was he would like bad blood i don’t have a reason for this i just feel it

robin has a very literal interpretation of the archer and it makes regina SO mad for reasons she refuses to explain

ruby is a low-key swiftie! she likes the songs you can dance to, her favs are red and out of the woods ofc

mulan is like a closet swiftie bc she favors the sappy, pining love songs. she doesn’t want anyone to know about her soft side!

belle isn’t like a hard core swiftie, she’s more of an autumn acoustic coffee shop playlist girl, but she likes stories and romance of course she likes folklore

rumplestiltskin is not a swiftie

[cal-kestis]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl​ [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.  

“Where are you?” He screams.  

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated —  the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Illicit affairs- Chapter 9

summary: the power of a girl after a break up? let me tell you. felicia learns a thing or two about trusting the wrong people and peter just really really wants y/n to be happy. 

Listen to: Rolling in the deep- Adele, These boots are made for walkin’ - Nancy Sinatra & Champagne problems- Taylor Swift

word count: 19.7k

series masterlist

You just felt pain. 

Pain on your head.

Pain on your arm.

Pain on your back.

Pain on your side.

Pain on your gun-shot wound. 

You had been tossed down like a rag doll and fell beside your now destroyed bed. You tried to stand up, but the dizziness was too much, your body didn’t seem to be responding yet, still recovering from Felicia’s attack. However, you could feel the debris and glass shards poking into your skin below you while your head was throbbing from the sheer force of the explosion. 

You slipped and came back from darkness; your vision foggy and spots dancing on your eyes while you could hear muffled sounds around you, maybe even an alarm, but you weren’t sure if it was just another effect of the explosion on your hearing. The wind from the broken window ruffling your dress and hair. You barely registered at the beginning but it grew colder as the seconds passed. 

And each time you slipped back into darkness you could only see Felicia’s doleful expression as she jumped from the window. You remember her silver hair and how her hands had traced your skin minutes ago but now everything just felt cold, desolate and it just hurt. 

You wanted to scream and shout and cry because the girl you had been protecting and maybe even loving for the past few months had crushed your heart into a million pieces, she left you. You didn’t matter. And it felt like if the ice was enveloping you, just wave after wave washing over you, knocking you further into the glass piercing into your skin, the numbness mixing with the pain, and it felt like you were going to drown. It had been your fault, you had let her in despite the warnings, despite everything, and here you were, drowning. 

Did you deserve to be there? 

And then you felt his warm hands cupping your face. 

It seemed urgent but so soft at the same time, and then the smell of cinnamon and honey invaded you, it overwhelmed you and you just knew you had to cling onto him to not drown. Without even reacting to the pain on your side or your face, you managed to take a hold of Peter’s face. 

“Can you hear me?” Peter’s voice sounded far away from you, but you could still hear the urgency and fear in his voice. “y/n? Come on, come on”

You tried your best to open your eyes, fluttering them so you could see the boy with the chocolate eyes with golden specks, a constellation of freckles and caramel curls. He had a few cuts on his face, he had dirt all over himself that you assume was from the explosion but he was okay, he was there holding your body tightly as he had you resting on his lap. 

Peter sighed with relief as he crawled your body and pushed you against him, holding you as tight as he possibly could. He was so happy that you were okay and he felt like he could finally breathe again when he realized that you were starting to hold him too. Peter looked back at you, as he tried to wipe off the blood from the cut over your eyebrow, already a dark blotch appearing on your temple from the explosion, he shuddered at the image but he was just happy that you were there.

He wanted to cry and kiss you all at the same time, he had lost you so many times (figurately and barely literally a few weeks ago), so when he saw how Felicia was pointing at you with the repulsor, he felt a shiver ran down his back. He had tried so hard to catch you, he had tried with all his force to reach you, to hold you but his fingers just brushed yours as the blast separated you instantly, sending Peter flying backward, literally crushing him against and through one of the walls in your room. 

He had to rest a second as his head buzzed from the impact but once the fogginess left his eyes, he just went back in looking for you through your destroyed room and he felt his stomach sinking when he saw you while you laid motionless in front of him. He couldn’t be okay. 

Not until you finally reacted to him, not until he saw your y/e/c eyes looking back at him and he held you; you were okay and that’s all that mattered to Peter. 

“Peter,” you finally said, your voice had grown up since Peter had met you but right then and there you sounded so young and small. “She escaped, I’m so stupid”

Peter frowned as you felt the hot tears pooling on your eyes, tears began to fall stubbornly down your cheeks as you held Peter tighter. You felt the sobs ripping through your chest, not as hard as the last night with Peter before you escaped New York, but you could feel your chest tearing with each sob that escaped your lips, Peter held you softly and shook his head, almost instantly.  

“You are not,” He stated firmly but softly at the same time as he wiped your tears away with his thumb. “You thought someone cared about you and you were so perfect and loving as you are. It’s okay to make mistakes”

“I screwed up so bad,” you repeated, this time mostly to yourself as the burning loathing against yourself began to ease its way to your heart and mind, the helplessness feeling drowning you. “I trusted her” 

“I know you did, but you can fault yourself for this y/n,” Peter repeated as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours but you shook it off.

You pushed yourself up, Peter helping you as you kneeled next to him, crying and shaking your head, you now just felt rage but you weren’t even aware of who, you or Felicia? 

“You told me so many times,” you insisted as you tried to wipe the tears away with your hands, you hissed as you saw the cuts on your body and how they burned because of your tears. You stared at them for a moment and for that slight moment you thought that you deserved them but Peter quickly took your hand in his, he had the same cuts and you realized how much you had hurt him and it only made you angrier. “Peter, what did I do!?” the scream ripped your chest.

It felt almost like an instinct as Peter took you in his arms and lifted you, you had to hold to him to stabilized yourself as you grabbed his shoulders and he pulled you towards him by your hips and back. He quickly cupped your face with one hand while his other one rested on the small of your back, holding you against him. 

“Listen to me y/n,” He stated gravelly, his eyes burning you. “It’s okay to screw up, I’ve screwed up a lot of times but I will always have your back, I know I didn’t before but I’m here” he stated and you finally felt the tears slowing down and Peter nodded at you, assuring you it was the truth. “I will always be here”

His words sounded so definitive, the mention of Peter always being on your life, always, caused your body to warm up, like it always felt when you were with him, you felt safe. You sniffled and you nodded back to Peter, pushing him towards you and smiling.

But then you heard steps coming your way and you turned towards where your door was supposed to be to see Harley and the others appearing on the frame of the door, clearly astounded by the destruction, and as you saw how their faces turned, you just knew it looked bad. 

“What the hell happened!?” Ned screamed as he looked around with an agitated expression drawn on his face.

Peter turned to tell them but he was still holding you tightly, never letting you and you were thankful for it, the coldness almost disappearing completely when you were by his side. “She left with the repulsor,” Peter stated as you winced at the thought of what they would say.

“Fuuuck,” Flash and Harley stated in unison, the way Harley’s eyes washed with anxiety let you know it was bad, really fucking bad. 

“Yeah, now she’s going to give it to Kingpin.” You stated as you tried to wash the remaining tears away as Peter and you moved closer to them but then as you looked around your room, you saw the faint white smoke and something snapped on your mind. “Harley, doesn’t that drip energy once it has been used?” You asked as Ned helped you move from one side of your room to the other, separated by a prominent crack on the floor.

“We can track it” MJ suggested as she looked back at Harley and shook his shoulder. “Don’t you have like multiple Stark Industries Satellites that hacked behind Tony’s back?”

Harley looked back at her as realization dawned on him and he smiled while looking at MJ brightly. “I love that you listen to me,” he gushed, but MJ simply rolled her eyes.

“Move it”

All of you ran to Harley’s bedroom as he quickly got onto his computer and all of you waited by his side. Ned tried to insist that Peter and you should get checked as Harley hacked at least two satellites and triangulated the algorithm to find the specific trace of energy that matched one of the repulsors. But neither, Peter or you wanted to leave Harley’s side, your eyes were glued to the screen as Harley, with the help of MJ and Ned tried to hack the satellites. 

You knew that everything was a matter of time, that if you weren’t fast enough the repulsor could become a weapon of mass destruction, even more, if Kingpin realized how to harvest its energy and reproduce it into the thousands of aliens weaponry that he already had. You thought about Felicia and how interested she had been on the small project the day of your attack, you grimaced at the thought of her purple eyes and her lips. 

Peter quickly noticed, and he offered you his hand. You took it, as you both then looked back at the computer. 

It felt like it took them forever to hack into the system, Peter had tried to intervene but there were too many people already with Harley, MJ, and Ned there. Even more importantly, Peter also realized he had to stay with you, he didn’t exactly know how or why he felt, but now it just seemed like energy pulled you together. 

Peter looked at you, all scrapped and with cuts, but with your eyes trained on the prize and he felt the same way he felt when you first met, leaving your lab with your eyes trained in the hologram, determined and brave. 

“Here’s the track,” MJ finally said, she had successfully managed to enter the system and placed the trace of energy rather quickly, the map of New York forming before your eyes. 

“Where is she?”

“She went to her apartment,” you said as you pointed at the map, knowing the route by heart now. “Probably to change, now she’s going to…”

“Isn’t that?” Betty asked with a frown as she pointed at the trace where Felicia had been located. 

“Right next to us?” Harley asked as confused as everyone at the moment seemed. 

You watched as the beeping light on the screen, she was close to Grand Central. Grand Central was only a couple of blocks away from Stark Tower, it was a twenty-minute walk and you could be there in no time, you gave a step back as your mind worked on the reason why Felicia would return so close to where she had stolen something. 

Felicia wasn’t dumb, she was many things but dumb wasn’t one of them. She knew that the area would be soon surrounded by police and if she wasn’t afraid of you and Peter and had aimed to hurt you and she had succeeded, she would still have to deal with the older Avengers that were still around. Moreover, if she was giving the repulsor away to Kingpin, why she would do it in such a public place?

Had Kingpin forced her to give it there? Was it a power move from him?

But then it dawned on you. 

“She’s going to escape,” you whispered, at first to yourself but then to everyone as they turned around and looked at you while they frowned. 

“What?”

“She’s going to escape,” you repeated as you stood up from Harley’s bed. “She knows that it’s likely that Kingpin will still kill her, she has been getting too close to me or maybe she knows that everyone would be looking for her. She has to run away after she delivers the repulsor she’s going to go by train. She’s going to Grand Central”

“How can you be sure?” Betty asked silently and Peter’s eyes linked with yours. 

You weren’t. 

“I think I still know a little bit of her and it’s our best shot right now,” you answered with a shrug while you thought about her, how she had kissed you to distract you, your hands turned into a fist and you shot up from Harley’s room. “Well, we have to hurry”

Peter followed you immediately (although you hadn’t even told him that he had to go with you, but it seemed like a given) while the rest trailed behind you but then Harley walked faster and took your wrist, you hissed for a second from his touch since you were walking with determination towards the terrace of the penthouse, ready to jump with your suit on and go to look for Felicia. There wasn’t really a plan, you just knew you had to get to her before she managed to give the repulsor away, you didn’t know what you were going to do when you saw her but you just had to try.  

“Wait, don’t you want to wait for Tony?” Harley asked seriously, he looked confused and scared that the thought of your dad hadn’t crossed your mind and you looked back at him as confused as he was. 

“He knows?”

Harley stared at you, agape at your question, he laughed sarcastically as he let go of your hand.  “Of course he does, everyone heard the blast!”

“Where is he?” you asked, your eyes trailing back to the elevator worriedly. 

“They are trying to evacuate the people inside. He knows there was a blast on the penthouse” Betty stated as she walked next to Harley and in front of you. 

Thank god Morgan is Upstate, you thought as you looked at them but you spun on your heels once more. 

You knew that this was just wasting your time, that Felicia and Kingpin would do this as fast as possible so no one would be able to catch them, and if you didn’t arrive on time, then it would just be too late.  

“I have to go,” you repeated yourself as you watched Peter but before you continued to talk to the terrace, Peter called your name.

“y/n,” Peter’s voice was modulated, he didn’t have the urgency it would normally have when you were about to face a threat as big as this one, there wasn’t any doubt on his voice but you could still sense that he was asking you something. You turned to face Peter, his eyes lingered with yours and you just knew.  

“I have to do this Peter,” you stated earnestly. “It’s my responsibility and I’m not going to let my dad clean up a mess that I made. I have to fix it.”

Peter watched you intently for what felt like forever for you until he just nodded and you knew it, you were going to do this together. Before your friends realized it, the nanobots began to surround your skin while Peter began to take off his clothes (much to your friend’s dismay as they turned around) to reveal his suit. You didn’t stop looking at the other, your eyes locked and before your friends blinked, Peter and you were jumping from the terrace of the penthouse and into the night. 

You nearly crushed against a building and for mistake nearly swung Peter into a lamppost as he dangled from your suit; you were anxiously trying to get to Grand Central as fast as you possibly could and Peter was keeping up, but you were flying a bit recklessly. It was a silent flight, but the tension was high at the moment, just muttering a small sorry from time to time to Peter, he just stayed as silent as you were, knowing that you were too anxious to plan something at the moment. 

“There aren’t many people,” you announced as you finally flew over Grand Central while Peter finally let go of you, as he perched himself in the rafters of the building, while you slowly and quietly landed next to him, your mask retracting from your face as you both looked down through the large glass windows.

You knew that you had to get the civilians out first, even if there weren’t many and then it would be easier to mess up the deal, maybe Felicia would be evacuated with the rest of the civilians and Kingpin wouldn’t dare to come in, knowing that police were going to be there or maybe a couple of Avengers, not that it had stopped him before but you liked believed that he didn’t like the messiness of it all.  

“We have to get them out before,” Peter started but he trailed off and turned around, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned towards where Peter was looking. 

And then you saw him. 

“Wait, isn’t that?”

“Yes”

Peter’s whole body filled with dread as he watched the overly-large, hunkering figure of Kingpin as he climbed down of the large limousine. You felt your throat constrict as he walked over to the entrance of Grand Central with an army of men following him and surrounding the place. You could see his large hands that had rings in every one of his fingers. He was wearing a sharp black suit as he walked inside, and Peter could feel the danger he posed by just being close, instinctively Peter walked closer to you. 

You didn’t notice, you were too busy realizing that Kingpin wasn’t alone, you could feel how your hands turned to fists as you saw who was next to Kingpin. Just a few steps behind, the lanky figure in a purple mask and suit, wearing the mechanized gloves and boots, along with another tall man with a beige suit and bony hands that had touched your skin once, a sick grin drawn on his face. Orville Nugent (The Architect) and The Prowler entered the building shortly after Kingpin did and you felt like you had stopped breathing. 

“I don’t like this,” Peter whispered, mostly to himself as HAPPY showed you the heat signatures being detected, part of you wished that you would just recognize Felicia’s shape and there wouldn’t be the need of fighting but deep down you knew it was impossible and either way, the sounds of the bullets being fired into the air as they ricocheted on the station erased any thought of a possible easy way out. 

The screams of the people on the station seemed to drown the ricochet of the bullets as they laid down on the floor, covering their heads while you felt like your heart had stopped. The screaming, the moaning of a bullet possibly hitting someone, the cries for help, the tears, it seemed overwhelming. You hadn’t experience per se a mission with hostages, at least not this many and it became too real, you began to only hear your breathing as you hyperventilate. 

“Everyone, everyone,” The Architect stated loudly as he showed himself from the top of the iconic stairs of the station. “We are not going to take long, but if you don’t want to get shot -or something worse-, you should follow the men silently and keep quiet.” He finished with a grin as Kingpin soldiers started to surround the people and nudged them to move towards the information booth in the center. 

It was clear that they wanted them exposed, there weren’t many people, about thirty, since it was already so late at night but you were more than sure that they were using them as bait or as a guarantee to slowdown any attacks coming from the outside.  

You turned to see Peter, who seemed like his whole body had shut down as he watched down silently, you could see the slight tapping of anxiety he was doing with his hands and it was beyond obvious that his Spidey senses were going haywire in front of you, you were about to say something, to break through his barrier but you heard her voice. 

“Can we get this over with?” Felicia -well, Black Cat- jumped from the edge of one balcony to the main entrance, where Kingpin, The Prowler and The Architect were, surrounded by their guards. 

You could feel your blood rushing to your ears and for a second everything you saw was Felicia. Her curves were covered by her sparkling black bodysuit, her confidence, silky hair, full lips, and purple-ish eyes but there was something off with her. The trepidation in every one of her steps and you knew that she was scared. She had that same look on her eyes when she had come to Stark Tower after you had been hurt, you could sense it from a mile away and it made you wonder if you actually knew her. 

“Now, now Miss Hardy,” Kingpin said almost quietly, but still his voice boomed all over the station. He shook his head as he locked gazes with Felicia. “What did we said about you playing nice?” 

“I just want to end this,” Felicia stated coldly, without hesitation. “Quickly.”

Kingpin sighed from where he stood and he nudged The Architect to go where Felicia was. “You know the drill”, he stated gravely. 

Soon, about ten of the armed men surrounded Felicia, pointing their guns at her as she rolled her eyes. They left a small opening from where The Architect passed through and stood in front of Felicia, who was glaring at him. She quickly opened the case and there it was the repulsor. 

The Architect sighed happily, which caused you to wrap a hand around Peter’s as both of you leaned closer together to get a better look. The Architect inspected the case and then pulled up a scanning machine over the repulsor, which beeped unceasingly as it passed through, causing a smirk to appear on Kingpin’s face which caused you to shudder. 

You knew that smirk, you knew how the air of tension had changed once Kingpin knew that Felicia had brought him what he wanted all along and you felt your stomach dropping. Kingpin was now overly confident and the satisfaction that flashed through those eyes made you want to vomit; this had been part of his plans all along. He knew that you were coming for him and that’s why he had sent The Prowler, he knew that nothing would defeat The Avengers unless it came from the inside. It all flashed through your eyes and you wondered if he had ordered Felicia to get close to you too. 

“You’ve done well, Miss Hardy,” Kingpin smiled widely. 

“I know,” Felicia replied with an indifference that caused Kingpin to chuckle. 

“will you ever come back?” He asked and your heart sunk because you knew exactly what he meant. Felicia was running away as you had predicted. “I could use you for some jobs”

“I won’t be coming back,” Felicia retorted, you could feel the modulation in her voice, she was almost hissing. 

“You don’t have to worry about the Avengers,” He asserted causally, “I’ll be done with them and you won’t be in harm’s way.”

Peter felt like throwing up as he quickly gazed back at you, he could see how you were almost hyperventilating, even behind your mask Peter could feel how you were slightly shaking, how your heartbeat was raising and Peter wondered if he should call Tony or the others. 

But Felicia spoke again. 

“I won’t come back to this place,” she stated coldly as she glared at Kingpin who shrugged. 

“Then, it has been lovely to do business with you.” He raised his hand slightly and The Architect tried to snatch the case from Felicia’s hands but before he could, Felicia swiftly kneeled down and passed her legs under Orville, who fell immediately to the ground.

You almost jumped at the way the alarms went off, the men -who were thankfully armed just with usual guns- pointed at Felicia and Orville simply started cursing and glaring at Felicia, which she didn’t mind. She wasn’t looking at the tantrum that he was throwing, which reminded you how awful of an extortionist he must be.

“Not so fast,” Felicia stated as she raised her eyebrows and secure the case behind her, “You owe me something.” 

Kingpin didn’t flinch at Felicia’s statement, he looked at her almost indifferent which caused your blood to boil because Felicia was being beyond serious and she could be a real threat, but he was so dismissive of her. 

“Oh, yeah,” Kingpin stated, with an almost blank gaze. “Orville, would you mind?” he asked The Architect who was still bickering under his breath. He quickly took from his jacket a paper and a ticket which Felicia easily snatched from his hand and he couldn’t do anything about it as she gave a few steps back and checked it. “If you take the next train, you’ll be right on time”

Felicia stared at the tickets and papers for a second, you saw her shoulders relaxing and there was a slight curve on her plump lips. Kingpin had something that she wanted but you tried to go back to the times that you had shared and you couldn’t think of anything that Felicia would want other than survive. She would’ve escaped with or without Kingpin’s help, she could’ve gotten tickets anywhere but why did she need those exactly? You weren’t sure, but she had done a deal and it was her time to pay her part. 

Before you even realized yourself, you raised from the rooftop where you had been with Peter and quickly pointed at the glass over where Felicia was but Peter quickly webbed your hand, throwing you off for a second, you stared back at him as you quickly slay the web from your hand. 

“y/n, don’t!”

But you didn’t care at the moment, you turned around and pointed at the glass and fire. The glass fell over the men, some in confusion and some already firing at the ceiling, the people inside and surrounding the information booth were screaming but you could only see Felicia, who had covered herself but when she heard the energy from your suit.

She knew it was you. 

She looked at you with widened eyes and a gaping mouth, maybe she thought the blast would hurt you a lot, maybe she thought that you were probably knocked out for longer or that it would be Tony and not you coming here. Some of the men were firing at you but the bullets didn’t bother you anymore, although you were cautious in case you detected another neutralizer, although you had fixed the glitched it still caused you to shudder. 

“Hardy, stop,” you stated as you landed in front of Felicia, as men started to surround you and kept firing at you. 

“Oh, look who we have here,” Kingpin chuckled as he looked around with a smug smile on his face and then cleared his throat. “Stand down,” he ordered his men and soon the bullets stopped hitting your suit, you looked right at Kingpin who gave you a small nod. 

“It’s a pleasure Stark, we’ve been chasing each other like cat and mouse…I, for one-”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” you growled at Kingpin and your gaze returned to Felicia, who still seemed a bit perplexed that you were standing in front of her and that you had dismissed Kingpin so easily. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked with such a small voice that Kingpin could barely hear her. She had a slight frown on her face but her eyes flashed with relief and, although you didn’t want to trick yourself, you believed that she was somehow happy that you were okay. 

“You don’t need to do this,” you asserted as the nanobots of your helmet disappeared and your eyes locked in with Felicia. 

Felicia grimaced as she saw your face, you weren’t exactly sure how you looked since you hadn’t even had time to fix yourself before you had come but by the look on Felicia’s face and the remainder of the thick liquid (which you assumed was blood) going down your face before, it didn’t look good.

“You don’t know anything y/n, stop,” she replied once more, but this time it almost sounded like a hiss and you could see how hot tears were threatening to fall from her eyes as she chuckled slightly, in incredulity that you were there and talking to her. 

“Why would you need to do this?” you insisted as you gave a step towards Felicia, which only caused the men to point their guns at you, you glared at them and restrained yourself before you looked back at Felicia, “Talk to me.”

“Hasn’t she told you Stark?”

You looked back at Kingpin, who gave a maliciously smug look in your direction as he chuckled and crossed his arms. You wished you could fire at him right then and there, but you knew it wasn’t the moment. “Miss Hardy here’s doing this for her old man”

You looked back at Felicia as she looked away, the tears were finally falling from her eyes and you realized it was the first time you had ever seen Felicia cried, there was just one time when you had seen her so… blue. Your mind ran back to the day in Coney Island when you had first felt her lips on yours and your mind dug deeper into those memories. 

“Why would you,” you trailed off as you realized when you had seen her like that when had her eyes lost the constant light that they had and everything clicked. “You told me he had died”

Felicia wiped her tears as she looked at you, you could see how she was hunched down and it seemed like it hurt her to only talk about her dad, it pained her. You’d never seen her looking as sorrowful as she was at the moment and you shook your head. 

“He isn’t dead… yet,” she muttered as she looked at you silently, “Just, letting my dad die in jail isn’t part of my plan y/n.”

The honesty in Felicia’s voice was fulminant, the matter-of-fact tone she had to use was very clear to you. She wasn’t doing this out of some horrible personal gain that was vapid, which was something that you had feared a little bit. She hadn’t hurt you out of something superfluous but she had done what she had believed she had to do to save her family. But you simply stayed quiet, blinking slightly as you processed everything but then anger began to bubble up on your chest. 

“I could’ve got him out,” you whispered at Felicia and you gave a step back, “I could’ve done something you…you asshole!” you snapped at Felicia, with the anger dripping from your voice. 

You’d like to think that there was a mutual understanding between you and Felicia, ever since you had agreed that you would talk to her, you thought that there was trust between the two of you. You’d follow her blindly for months, you’d been so in awe at her that you thought that being on each other’s orbits for so long, getting to know each other, would’ve made her able to tell you what was happening. 

Felicia blinked at your words and Kingpin too, almost everyone’s moth gaped at your statement and a few raised their eyebrows at your blowup. “Didn’t expect that kind of language coming from you, Miss Stark”

“Are you kidding me?” you yelled at Felicia, ignoring Kingpin completely as you glared at her but now, Felicia was fuming too.  

“No, you are kidding yourself!” Felicia barked back at you, stepping towards you. It seemed like she had forgotten where you were, it seemed a fight between… people that were something more, “You are the type of people who would put him there in the first place!”

You scoffed at her statement while rolling your eyes at her, “I spent months lying for you, could you be any more clueless?”

“Don’t act like you would’ve done something, you are a freaking Avenger!” Felicia fumed, now trying to tower over you. She was breathing heavily, her eyes red and angry. You glared back at her defiantly as if facing her would change her mind, would change the course of how things had turned. 

“I would’ve done something if you had asked me to! It didn’t matter if I was an Avenger,” you yelled at her, feeling hot and wound up, your hands were shaking and you realized how angry you were at her for ruining any possibility for a kind of honest relationship. 

And then she said it. 

“Liar!”

And it felt like something broke inside of you, your angry dialed down for a second you stiffened at Felicia’s words and you felt the knot on your throat that you’d always felt in moments like this but you pushed through it. 

“Don’t call me a liar Felicia, not after you have been tricking me and betraying me for months now,” you stated gravelly, but you knew your voice had wobbled at the end as you tried to drown the urge to cry once more, “Even after you shot me…how dare you?”

Felicia looked at you with a gaped mouth and then there was just shame. The downward gaze, the wince at the thought of what she had done, and the trembling chin. 

“y/n…” she started as she looked back with tears, “I didn’t fire directly towards you, just close enough so you could back out! I did car-”

“You didn’t, not really. Not like I cared about you,” you replied as you shook your head and looked quietly at the girl with purple-ish eyes, silver hair, and cotton candy smell that you’d cared for. 

You realized that you’d tried so much to be someone for her, you’d tried to be there for her and you’d fallen for her, even if it wasn’t as hard or as bad, you did love her in some way that you’d never experience yourself and the pain returned on your chest. 

“Not that it matters now,” you said quietly as you looked at her. 

Now you were both crying, sorrow drawn on both of your faces and for the first time in your conversation, it dawned on you that you weren’t alone. 

“Indeed, Stark,” Kingpin said interrupting you, once again with a grin. “Not that it matters now.”

“Right,” you said between your teeth and cleared your throat as you looked away from Felicia and towards the hunkering figure standing a couple of meters away from you. 

“Now, if you excuse me, I would like to go home early today” Kingpin said apathetic, as he ordered one The Architect with a swift movement from his large hand to get the case from Felicia’s hands, but before Orville could give another step you interrupted him. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to work” you answer as the nanobots began to cover your face. 

There was a shift in the air, the moon was hovering over you brightly and it seemed like everything had quiet down, the tension grew as the seconds passed and no one dared to move but everyone seemed prepared, Felicia and you taking defensive stands as the men began to point at you again. Even Kingpin's hands turned into large fists as he stared at you, and now you realized how frustrated he was and the glare he had on you. 

Kingpin wanted you dead and there wasn’t any turning back. 

And then, you heard a slight Twhip! sound of one of Peter’s webs before you realized what he had targeted. Every single person inside the building looking from where it came from and before you could blink, the case was snatched from Felicia’s hands into the ceiling. Everyone followed the case to where Peter was, hanging from a web, as the case reached him.

“I hate interrupting a good convo, but I think the meeting’s over,” Peter pointed out from his place on the ceiling as the men gaped at the presence of him, but Kingpin nostrils flared up as he looked at Peter with fury. 

Peter didn’t need to say anything, without hesitation, you pointed your hands in front of you and blasted them with all the energy that you could reach. Felicia easily ducked your shot, but it hit a few men and The Architect then The Prowler, and then Kingpin, who were sent backward against the main entrance of Grand Central.

The bullets started to be fire at you and Peter, but you quickly activated the small missiles that immobilize a few men, who quickly fell on the floor with a groan, as you kept firing at the ones that were coming after you while Peter was trying to avoid the bullets as swiftly and rapidly as he could.

“Peter, we need to get the civilians out,” you stated as you quickly took a guy by the neck as threw him against more men that were firing at you. “And get out as soon as possible with that case.”

“On it!”

Peter began to swing his way towards the Information booth, case in hand and avoiding the few bullets that the men tried to fire at him before you knocked them unconscious with a blast or throwing them away with your own hands or shocking them with electricity, anything before a bullet could reach Peter. You tried your best to keep up with them, but you weren’t sure how many there were, they just kept coming after you and you weren’t catching anything about Kingpin, the Prowler, or the Architect and then you heard Peter’s groan.  

Peter managed to reach the booth, flipping backward and taking the men that were surrounding the people who were trying to cover themselves from the bullets. Peter was sure he could lead them to one of the sides exits without harm as you kept avoiding men firing at him since they were focused on you but before he could say anything, he fell from his web and landed on his side, harsh, his head foggy from the impact on the marble beige floors and he looked up to see Felicia landing next to him as she tried to snatch the case from his hand. 

“Not in the mood for games, Spidey,” Felicia hissed but Peter didn’t care.

“Me neither, Kitty,” Peter growled as he kneed her in the gut and rolled backward, sending Felicia away from him, her claws leaving marks on the case. 

Peter quickly looked back at you, while you sighed in relief as you continue to fire at the men and gave him a nod. You flew from your point and directed the men to chase you, the opposite way from where the information booth was. It wasn’t a great move because you were now against sword and wall, but you didn’t care as you started to see how Peter was sending people towards another exit while he tried to block any upcoming bullets that could harm them. 

But then, Felicia came back again. 

Peter could hear the screams of the people and his Spidey senses went off, he ducked Felicia’s kick for a second but not her hand, she quickly got him by the neck and threw him against the floor. More people seemed to run away as Felicia and Peter struggled with the case, but then Peter shot his web towards her eyes and Felicia growled as she tried to take it off. Peter kicked her off him, which sent her stumbling backward as Peter shot a web to the ceiling and rose from the floor, he quickly swayed and with all his force and tried to kick Felicia once more, hoping it would be it but before Peter realized, Felicia jumped and climbed on his same web, quickly cutting it off and holding into the case. 

Both landed on the marble with a loud thud, breathing heavily and glaring at the other. Although this time, Felicia’s hand was the one on the case, she groaned as she tried to get up but before she could, you were firing at her from afar. You were almost done with the men that were still going after you but there were a few now, most of them on the floor, causing the beige floor to disappear thanks to the bodies that laid on them. 

You had turned towards the information booth after the thud, and you realized that the people were gone from there.

“HAPPY, they are out?” you asked your AI as you looked at Felicia trying to stand up. 

“Yes, Miss Stark, and ” your AI stated calmly and before he could say something else, you were firing at her. 

It wasn’t like you were exactly pointing at her, you couldn’t. It didn’t matter exactly what she had done and the resentment that you were feeling, there was no way that you could hurt Felicia. You tried to fire at crucial points that could make her disoriented enough for Peter to lose her, which was your goal. 

Peter quickly stood up and webbed Felicia’s foot to the floor, causing her to fall on the ground once more and to duck one of your shots close to her. She turned around to break the web but before she could, Peter shot another web towards the case and pulled it back towards him. 

“y/n, we need to go, it’s done” Peter insisted as he shot a web and pulled himself towards the ceiling, he crawled to the hole that you had made to enter Grand Central in the first place. 

“You have the case?” you asked him, breathing heavily as your eyes went to look for where Peter was. 

“I got it, y/n come on it’s dangerous,” Peter insisted as you finally realized where he was, you sighed as relief washed over your body. 

Peter was okay, he had fought against Felicia and he was okay, he wasn’t knocked out or shot, he was right there in front of you. People were out, Peter was saved and the mission was done, it caused you to smile. 

“Let’s- AHHH!”

Peter’s heart stopped as he gazed back at where you were flying but you weren’t there anymore. You were being thrown like a rag doll by The Prowler. Your body crashed against the marble main stairs and you fell, landing on the ground, breaking the marble with a loud crashing sound.

“Y/N!” Peter cried from where he was and he shot another web, going down to where you were but before he could reach you, Felicia tackled him into the opposite side from you.

He was away from you and you felt it. 

Saying that you were slightly foggy at the moment was an understatement. Your head was throbbing as each second passed and you were holding the place where you had been shot instinctively, you weren’t sure if the internal stitches were breaking but something didn’t feel right. 

But then you opened your eyes and you turned your head towards where the slight sound was coming from, although it seemed so far away because of the impact. You saw Peter and Felicia, he was fighting her off with all his force, you could tell because you knew by heart how he used his webs when he was trying to immobilize people so he could go away, because you saw the urgency in his movements but he wasn’t doing much better, Felicia was counterattacking at the same pace. But then his gaze fell back to yours, even with masks, you knew he was looking at you and in which way.

It sent a shiver down your spine. 

You didn’t want to be this, you weren’t done yet, you weren’t the one who needed saving. You had spent so much time admiring the people who you believed were fearless; Tony, Charlie, Pepper, Felicia that you hadn’t even realized that you could be fearless. 

Just as Peter saw you, and it fueled you. 

You screamed as you tried to stand up, ignoring the pain as you quickly fired at Felicia and then turned as you heard The Prowler’s characteristic energetic sound next to you, before he could attack you, you shot him with a continuous ray. 

“Can’t you just fuck off?” you screamed, as you continue to tirelessly fire at him with your repulsors and elevating yourself a bit. Even though you knew you were reaching half of the energy on the suit, you didn’t care, it was throwing him off his game.

But then you stopped and The Prowler took advantage. He jumped up, grabbing you quickly by the throat and bringing you back down to the ground, he threw you, causing you to groan as you rolled over just in time for his gauntlets to barely miss you as he pierced the ground. 

Standing back up, your reflexes reacted before you could as you caught his hand between yours, as he tried to punch you again with the electricity, gasping in awe that you were able to catch it and hold it long enough for him to snarl at you as he tried to recover his hand. Having his gauntlet so close made you realized for the first time how energy-based his suit was, you hadn’t even really thought about it and something clicked on your mind. 

But before you could say anything to Peter, The Prowler grabbed you by the neck with his other hand as he raised you from where you were standing.

“Say goodbye, Stark” 

It was the first time you had heard The Prowler’s robotic voice and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Granted, he didn’t even give you much time to think as he squeezed your neck tighter and you started to feel how the nanobots were being crushed as well. 

Peter barely ducked another one of Felicia’s kicks when his Spidey senses started to go off, which he considered strange given that he was already in a battle. But then he looked back at you, in the air, trying to take off The Prowler’s hands from you as the nanobots from your helmet wore off so you could breathe, but you were already turning purple. 

“Y/N!” Peter screamed but Felicia threw him on the ground, he closed his eye, ready to receive another punch but there wasn’t anything. Peter opened his eyes to see that Felicia had disappeared and he turned to see how she was running towards you and The Prowler.

And he was in shock. 

Felicia, without hesitation on her step, flew up into the air and with her two legs, kicked The Prowler on the chest. Effectively removing his hold on your neck and sending him stumbling backward before she landed next to you and turned over your body. 

“y/n, are you okay?” Felicia’s voice seemed wobbly as she gazed at you caringly. “Breath, please” she pleaded with her trembling lips, her fingers trailing your cheek. 

You took a deep breath and soon, you were coughing as you tried to raise from your place as Felicia helped you stand up, your eyes locked with Felicia’s and she simply smirked. 

“What are you doing?” you croaked as you tried to clear your throat, it was sore but it was okay enough for you to talk to Felicia.  

Felicia shrugged slightly as she fixed her hair and wipe out some of the dirt from her face, it was so weird that Felicia wasn’t as pristine as she always looked in a fight, she usually avoided any type of real damage because of how good she was. But you could see it in her eyes, how she was trying to avoid your gaze, how she was somehow regretful of what she had done. 

“I told you I was going to be on the right team,” she answered, her voice small, knowing that you were caught off guard from her sudden change of heart but Peter didn’t even give you time to think about it. 

Peter crashed against your body as he ran towards you, he cupped your face removing some strands of your hair and looked into your eyes frantically, and engulfed you in his arms. The redness on your face was dialing down but the previous cut you’d had on your eyebrow was starting to bleed again, now dripping down your neck. He could see the redness on your eyes and he knew well enough that if Felicia hadn’t had a change of heart, you might’ve been hurt. 

“Peter,” you gasped as you took his hands off your face and laced his fingers with yours, squeezing your hold on him, assuring you that you were fine. 

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Peter’s words stumbled against one another as he tried to keep checking on you, he could see the red blotches around your neck, he caressed them slightly, already turning a dark purple that was tainting your skin. 

He quickly cradled the back of your head with one hand and wrapped his arm tightly around your waist with the other, pulling you into him in a breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, you could feel it and you’d like to think that you were on the same beat. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Felicia cleared her throat as Peter and you pulled away to see what she was talking about, while she rolled her neck, prepping. “We’ve got company”

You turned to where Felicia was looking, The Prowler standing up and recharging his gauntlets with a swift movement of his arms as he walked towards the three of you, a menacing aura around him as all of you gave a step back. 

“Peter, you still have taser webs?” you asked softly as The Prowler came closer to you, the nanobots covering your face again. 

“Yeah, why?” Peter answered as he took a hold of your hand with his free one, and held the case closer to him. 

“Shoot him when I tell you and let me know when it hurts,” you said calmly as you quickly snatch the case away from Peter and ran the opposite way, Peter turned around and started to the web The Prowler up, who was trying to catch Peter, as he swung from his place next to Felicia and tried to drive him away from you. 

“What about me!?” Felicia whined but you weren’t paying attention to her, but the repulsor in front of you. She sighed, annoyed at your demeanor but her attention was caught by the few Kingpin soldiers that were still around, the bullets were raining towards you but Felicia stretched her arms and with one swift movement her claws appeared and she started to take them down one by one.

You quickly took the gauntlet and the nanobots from one of your hands disappeared, so you could place it on. The waves of energy that you remember going through your body seemed a bit destabilize than the last time you had used it, maybe because Felicia had used it prior -although on a smaller scale- but you knew it you fire at the right scare, the repercussions of the blast would be bigger. Harley and Tony had been working on stabilizing the energy and you hoped that it had worked as you stood up and pointed at The Prowler.

“Spidey, now!”

Peter gave a swift backflip and landed next to you, The Prowler jumping in the air to attack him but Peter managed to shot a taser web on his chest before you fired at The Prowlers’ chest and to the web. The sheer amount of energy coming from your hand started to send your body backward but you buried your hills into the marble, trying to stop you from missing balance as you saw a bright light surrounding The Prowler who seemed frozen in time as the waves of electricity shocked him. 

All the energy from the repulsor was focusing on the webs and the Prowler himself but also, it started to reach Peter. Peter’s arms were shaking as he tried to stand his ground next to you, but he was starting to feel the residual energy coming from the blast, his legs shaky. He wasn’t hurt per se but he was starting to feel how his web-shooters were growing hot, sparkles coming from them, and then his whole wrist started to tickle which then simply started to burn. And then you felt it too, you weren’t sure if it was properly calibrated for how long you’d been using it, maybe Harley and Tony weren’t thinking that it would have such a prolonged use and now you were feeling the consequences as sparkles started to appear on your hand too.  

“AAAAHHH!” Peter screamed as you started to see smoke coming from the web-shooters and The Prowler itself, you quickly stopped the beam and saw how The Prowler fell and landed on his knees, smoke coming from his whole body but the purple energy of his suit seemed to be gone, then he fell onto the ground face first. 

You walked slowly towards The Prowler, there were still sparks and small lightings surrounding his body, causing him to spam once in a while, but other than that he was out. You turned surprised, you and Peter had done it, you had glitched his program with the energy from the repulsor but then you saw Peter on the ground, breathing heavily as he tried to take off the smoking web shooters on his hands. 

“You had to tell me if it hurt!” you reproached him as you kneeled in front of him, to check if he was fine. There were a few marks on his wrist, they were red, some already white, and with a bit of blood. Before Peter could say anything, you sprayed him with your free hand some of the regenerating liquid that you had installed on your suit since your incident. 

“It’s okay,” Peter muttered as he looked up at you slowly as you took his hand on yours, cradling it for a bit. If you could only take off your masks, you thought to yourself as Peter squeeze your hand in his. “I feel better now,” he added softly as he reached for one of his web-shooters but you held one of his hands and then Peter felt his heart pounding on his chest, as well as yours. 

You shuddered as you realized how you were holding onto him for dear life, you weren’t sure what it meant yet but there was something that had shifted. 

You wanted to say something, anything to him but before you could, Peter quickly pulled you to his right, effectively dropping you to the floor before he fired a web towards one of the remaining men who were pointing at you from behind. 

Peter took his other web shooter and raised it from the floor. “We’ll talk later, I’m fine!” Peter yelled as he swung his way towards where the men were standing with their guns, kicked them in the chest, and quickly broke the machine guns they had on their hands.

You shook your head with a smile but then your eyes landed on Felicia, as she swiftly slid on the ground under one of the men before she hit him on his balls, the man quickly bent over from the pain which allowed Felicia to use him as a base to throw herself towards another man, she wrapped her legs around his neck with so much force and swiftness that it took the man by surprise and she quickly threw him to the ground next to you.

She looked towards you and shrugged, as she saw you watching the unconscious man. 

“What?” She asked as she walked towards you with a cat-like-grin, smugness dripping from it. 

“Nothing,” you grumbled as you took of the repulsor from your hand, not wanting to make any mistakes with it, and quickly locked it in the case as Felicia stood behind you. 

“I told you that I was going with the team that-” Felicia said but you quickly cut her off before she could say anything else as you fired towards a couple of the men that wanted to fire at you from the iconic (now destroyed) stairs.

“Yeah, the one that was going to help you survive, got it” you grumbled as you walked away from her and you kept blasting some of the men who had managed to dodge your shots.  

“No, y/n,” She said as she took your hand and pulled you towards her, making you turn around and look at her. Felicia looked at you seriously, almost as if was looking at your eyes through the mask. “You are my team” 

You felt your heart twisting on your chest, it lingered for a moment and you felt a jolt cursing to your body at the thought of Felicia feeling something about you. It was dizzying and confusing, the way she pushed you but pulled back and it hurt because you didn’t know if she was honest. But it didn’t matter much at the moment as you felt a blast of energy on your back, sending Felicia and you flying away, you landed meters away and the purple energy stopped, you turned to see Kingpin firing you from the stairs, coming for the case that was close to you.

His rigid cords in his neck, his bulging bestial eyes, red face, and clenched jaw; letting you know that he was beyond angry and you felt his fury from where you were standing. Kingpin until now had remained somehow calmed, but now it was a different story. 

His movements seemed chaotic as he tried to recharge the weapon on his hands while climbing down the destroyed stairs, towards you. His usually sharp suit seemed in disarray and tainted some of the blood that was falling from his nose from the blast you had fired at him but he didn’t sustain any other injuries, most importantly his eyes were wide-open, a storm of rage in them, he seemed overall unhinged. 

Which was never a good sign on someone who was firing at you with an alien weapon. 

Before you could push Felicia away, he fired the purple beam again, which you had become used to by now and the nanobots quickly created a shield that you placed forward with your forearm. Felicia behind you as you tried to shield her as best as you could from the energy, knowing it was very likely that she could be exposed to the energy and have highly damaging burns on her skin. 

Peter finished with, what he thought, was the last of the soldiers from Kingpin as he quickly webbed his hand into the wall and then punched him in the face for good measure. Then he felt his spidey senses go off, he saw how Kingpin recharged the alien gun and then quickly fired at you before he could even scream your name again. It seemed almost automatic how Peter fired one of his webs to the roof and swung with no problem towards where Kingpin was, he quickly webbed the gun and pulled it from Kingpin’s grasp, as he quickly taped it to the roof.

“No, sorry” Peter yelled as he swung towards Kingpin, who was trying to search for Peter as he turned around and Peter quickly kicked him in the face. “That’s cheating,”

Kingpin had this angered look as Peter landed next to you, helping both Felicia and you stand up, and then he started to walk towards you. You watched him and felt the anger filling your body, you had been so afraid of Kingpin, of how calculated he was, how cold and simply maliciously he acted. But now, as you watched him get closer and closer to you, you realized that he might not be as invincible as you’d thought he was.

You began to fire your repulsors against him, nonetheless, with the lack of energy from your suit, HAPPY was doing its best to reserve the energy that you had left. Therefore, Kingpin wasn’t falling back, he could withstand the shots that were hitting him and you swallowed hard as you realized that it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Fire at him with the repulsor!” Felicia shriek as she gave a few steps back while Kingpin got closer. 

“I can’t!” you replied giving a few steps back while your eyes still lingered with Kingpin’s who was grinning devilishly at you. “It’s not calibrated, it can explode and kill us all.” 

“We need to go hand in hand with him,” Peter said as he took your hand and pulled you back, he quickly took the case and threw it against one column, webbing it tightly and high enough for no one to reach it except for him. 

“What!?” Felicia and you yelped at the same time while looking at Peter. 

“If we do it together, we can defeat him. All of us,” Peter said as he turned to see Felicia, who was already in a defense position. 

She swallowed hard as she looked at both of you with a bit of incredulity dripping from her eyes. “Just try to stay away from the fists,” she muttered before you turn to fire and him once more with the repulsor and Felicia ran towards Kingpin and Peter started to swing towards him. 

You weren’t able to see much of what Felicia and Peter were doing, as your beams shined so bright towards Kingpin that you had to look back. You just saw her hair and Peter jumping from side to side, it seemed like a gymnastics show for Peter, both (Felicia and him) trying to avoid Kingpin’s larger-than-life fists. She kicked him in the chest, Peter in the face, and then Felicia gave one blow to one leg causing him to bow down for one second. 

But then your normal repulsors went out, the bright light stopped coming from your hands and it was the chance that Kingpin was waiting. Before Peter could react, he saw how Kingpin took with just one hand Felicia’s leg and flung her into the air, her body bouncing against one column of the station and then falling into the ground. 

He had flickered her like a fly. 

“Hardy!” you screamed as Felicia groaned on the floor, struggling to stand up. 

Peter tried to swing one more time to take another hit at Kingpin so you could check on Felicia, but before he reached Kingpin, something broke his web, Peter managed to land on the floor without much trouble but he looked up into the stairs to see The Architect. He was bloody, rage making his whole body vibrate and clearly disturbed as he held a rifle that he probably took from the injured soldiers and pointed it at Peter. 

“That’s for how you left me at the club, you insect!” he yelled as he started to fire again and Peter avoided the bullets skillfully, but it was raft after raft and he knew he couldn’t bring that to you or Felicia, so he decided to deal with it. 

You had heard The Architect screaming but you tried not to mind it as you shook Felicia’s shoulder, trying to wake her up from her foggy state. 

“Are you okay?” you asked her as you cupped her face in your hand, Felicia wasn’t completely there but she nodded slowly. You sighed in relief and let out a small laugh, Felicia smiled at you too. 

Felicia’s smile froze time for a moment, it was simple, it wasn’t meant to be more and you knew it but there was complicity between you two and you felt it. It was weird, loving-and-hating someone in such a small amount of times, it was a rollercoaster, unpredictable, the longing stares, the highs, and the lows. It was Felicia. 

And then there was a strong grip on the back of your neck. 

You let go of Felicia as you flipped over with the rockets on your feet and landed in front of Kingpin. Without any thought, you quickly threw a jab to his jaw, which clearly hurt as you heard the frustrated scream. Then, you tried to shoot your repulsors but before you were able to fire them at him, he grabbed both of your hands with his large fists, and then you felt the pressure, then the pain, the small crack of the nanobots, and then from your hand as he crushed them underneath his own. 

“STOP!” You screamed with pain tinted all over your voice but then he sucked in a breath, reared back, and then head-butted you as hard as he possibly could. 

It hurt, you saw the red lights on the screen of your suit as you stumbled back and fell to the ground, you were pretty sure that you had more than one concussion. You tried to stand up but Kingpin threw an uppercut towards you that you couldn’t dodge, sending you flying once more into the ground. You groaned on the floor, your knees buckled and fell forward, you could feel the taste of the blood coming from your nose into your mouth. You were aware that Kingpin was vicious but it was becoming too much, he was way too focus on you, on killing you. 

“You have cost me enough, Miss Stark,” Kingpin spat as he got closer to you, his voice ricocheted on the walls and you tried to move, somewhere anywhere away from him. But he reached you once more, you felt another blow to your ribs now and then it smashed into the ground, you groaned as you rolled into your back and coughed. Alarms on your suit were going off and now you were more than disoriented. 

Your whole body hurt and you were feeling exhausted. All the pain, the anxiety, the anger, the frustration- everything seemed to be coming down on you at once, and it was drowning you. It was useless now, you could feel the pain and the weight of so many injuries you had sustained that same day, you could feel the thick wetness of your blood on the side of your head, the incessant pain from your gunshot injury, and the general pain coursing through your body. You tried to crawl your way away from Kingpin but before you could, he grabbed you from your arm and hip, he raised your body, picked you up easily, and then threw you once more against a wall. 

Your body was smashed against the marble once more and the pain almost became unbearable, your helmet filling up with blood as you spit it out. The nanobots quickly disappeared from your face as you coughed out blood that fell into the white marble as you looked back to Kingpin. 

“The Avengers will drop one by one,” he roared, stepping over you and lifting you up by the neck. You struggled, your hands trying to take off Kingpin’s hold on you but now it seemed hopeless as he held you high. “This end, this little game of yours ends now.”

You watched the statistics on your screen, knowing that you still have somethings left to use but you weren’t sure if they would work. You looked back at Peter, trying to find him, you saw the black and red colors moving near the stairs, the gunshots sounded far away and the overwhelming need to cry flooded your body. 

It dawned on you, that maybe it was the last time you would ever see him, the last time you would ever see his chocolate eyes and caramel curls, his galaxy of freckles, his scent of cinnamon and honey, you realized that it was all you wanted if it was your last moment. There was almost a primal instinct of reaching towards him, you raised your hand and tried to reach to where Peter was, but Kingpin realized it. 

A malicious grin appeared on his face. “You’re weak, what even made you think that you could defeat me?”

Your eyes locked with Kingpin’s and anger fill your body, you weren’t sure if you were shaking because of the pain or because of the rage that you felt by seeing his shit-eating-grin. You had tried to prove a point for so long, you had tried to protect The Avengers, your family, and in doing so, the rest of the world. If you had to die for Kingpin to be caught so be it, for a second you weren’t afraid anymore, anger and calm washed over you. There was no point denying the inevitable, you felt calm and collected

“You’ll never win, you’ll end up in jail as all the others,” you spoke up softly as the hold on your neck became tighter and tighter. You could hear the slight crack of the already damaged nanobots thanks to The Prowler's previous hold. 

Kingpin chuckled to himself as he looked at you. “I guess you won’t be there to see it,” he answered maliciously and you felt the grip breaking completely the nanobots on your neck. 

You didn’t know if it was peace washing over you or the lack of oxygen because of Kingpin’s grip on your neck, but you close your eyes and took a deep breath. You felt content, death wasn’t scary and you knew it, what just bothered you at the end, was that you had to go without Peter holding you.  

Goodbye Peter, you thought to yourself. 

“Leave her alone!” you heard Felicia’s silvery voice as she roared, Kingpin turned around and you opened your eyes to see a flash of silver hair and a black suit, squaring Kingpin right on the face and slashing his face with her claws. He stumbled by the sheer force of the attack, the deep cuts she had made on his skin and he let go of you in the process, you fell into the ground, coughing as you tried to get as much air in your lungs as you possibly could. 

Felicia’s claws seemed more pronounced than ever, you could see the strength on her kicks and hooks, how she flipped and roll in the ground as she ended with Kingpin, as she turned around you could see the fire in her eyes, the sheer anger she was feeling from what she had believed were your last moments. There wasn’t any hesitation on her steps as she kicked and flipped, Kingpin now with multiple scratches on his hands and suit, the most pronounced ones were three nasty cuts that were bleeding all over his face. 

She was defending you. 

“HAPPY, you have some of the regenerate spray left?” you groaned as you leaned into one of the closer columns before you were pouring some of the liquid in the cuts on your face as you tried to stand up on your wobbly legs so that maybe you could help Felicia, but as you did, you heard her yelping. 

You raised your eyes to see how Kingpin grabbed Felicia by the neck as he was dodging some of her moves and he flung her again across the station. It wasn’t as hard as before and somehow Felicia managed, like a cat, to land on her feet. 

Felicia hissed at Kingpin and started to run towards him to end what she had started, a slight frown on her face and narrowed eyes. But before she could reach him, Kingpin took from his blazer a small gun, one that you hadn’t detected, it was a usual one but Felicia didn’t have time to react completely. The gunshot ricocheted all over the station, along with Felicia’s shriek as she fell to the ground, grabbing her side. 

“No, no, no,” you mumbled as you tried to walk towards Felicia as fast as you could, but Kingpin heard you, he turned around to watch your desperation, and he grinned. He quickly recharged his weapon and before you reached Felicia, you heard his ominous voice. 

“Say goodbye to Miss Hardy, Stark.” Kingpin said before he fired again. 

“NO!”

The gunshot sound left a ring on your ear, you didn’t know if it was because you were too close or because you were in a state of shock. There was a flash of red and black passing in front of Felicia, and then the thud of a body falling into the floor close to her. 

There was no screaming coming from Peter, he simply fell to the floor as he let go of the web while he held his chest. He was lying motionless in front of you and your body felt rigid as you fell to your knees, you crawled over to him, tears already streaming down your face as you pulled his mask off and you nearly screamed as you picked him up into your arms, you felt your chest shaking as you felt like your mind couldn’t fucking grasp what you were seeing. 

“Peter, no, oh god, no, no, no,” You muttered to yourself, it was almost incomprehensible as you looked at Peter, who had his eyes closed for a second. “Not you, not you, Peter, come on”

You tried to shake him, scrambling towards him and pulling him onto your lap as tears streamed down your face without an inch of self-control. Your hands were shaking as you stared at Peter, as you caressed his face and you started seeing the blood coming from his chest, tainting the red and black suit. There were two bullet holes on his suit, Peter was bleeding out in front of you and you tried your best to remain calm but you were almost shaking uncontrollably. 

But then Peter grasped your hands softly, he was so patiently trying to calm you down by holding you tightly that you couldn’t even believe it. His eyes fluttered open and you could see hot-tears threatening to fall from his eyes as they locked with yours. 

He will always be there, you thought to yourself as you recalled what he had said before this mess. 

The way your chest felt like it had a grown a dark hole was something that you’d never thought you had experienced. You’d never, and truly never felt such despair, ever. You felt your mind going haywire as you saw how blood started to expand on Peter’s chest, your shaky hands tried to somehow cover the blood, it was irrational how you tried to stop the bleeding, but you quickly sprayed the regenerative cradled liquid that you had left, you were hoping it was enough, you were praying it was enough. You were erratic as you tried to spray more and more from the liquid, knowing that it maybe wouldn’t be enough. 

“Peter?” you whispered, pressing your lips to his ear as you curled up around him. You began to move back and forth, as the tears started to taint Peter’s face too, you pressed your forehead to him as you held him tighter. “Not like this, not like this,” you sobbed out. 

You were clinging onto him and he was doing the same, he was your center of gravity and you were his.

You could feel Peter’s eyelashes against your skin, you raised your head as you looked into him deeply. Eyes locking like the first time you’d met all those years ago, on a sunny afternoon in the lab. Where somehow Peter deeply knew that you were destined to be together, that you were his sunshine, his reason, his everything, he had doubted it for so long that he now felt stupid.

He realized now, as he was feeling somehow how the life was draining for him, as he felt his own blood pouring out of your body, that it was obvious that you were meant to be. He had been so stupid for letting you go, for not telling you how he felt when he could, for wasting time on others that were clearly not the right choice for the other. He wished that he had kissed you more that night, he wished that you would’ve to fight less, he wished that you would’ve spent more time together, he wished time. 

But he didn’t seem to have more. 

You didn’t know it was even possible for someone to convey so much love into one gaze, but Peter didn’t have to talk for you to know what he was saying. You understood completely because you knew Peter like the back of your hand because he was your center, he was gravity and everything pulled you back to him. It would be foolish to think that you could somehow avoid it, your feelings and now you felt so stupid for doing so. He had hurt you so much and you had decided to be hurt for so long, that it all now seemed stupid.

You knew what he meant, and you hoped he knew what you meant. 

 But Peter knew that if he didn’t say it know if he didn’t really speak then it would be left as a secret on his soul, he didn’t want that. 

He didn’t want to die before you knew before you truly knew. 

“It’s,” Peter started to mumble, but he coughed some blood. You tried to hush him but he shook his head softly as you cupped his cheek. “It’s you, it has always been you,”

A loud sob broke your chest and you were shaking uncontrollably, you were sure you heard how the black hole of despair was widening as you heard his words. You tried to hold onto him for dear life, you felt like you were going to drown in sorrow, how could you ever live in a world without Peter Parker?

“Don’t leave me, Peter,” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against him, your tears mixing with Peter’s as he shivered at your touch. “You were mine too,” the sob broke you as you cried along with Peter, who then closed his eyes. 

It dawned on you that it was the last time you were going to be with Peter and you simply screamed at the sky, the cry ripped your chest and it even felt like it ripped the moon, as you felt like you were going to pass out as the sobs started to come out of you shamelessly. The cries were so raw and torn, they seemed to tear you open as you pulled Peter closer, realizing that you couldn’t live in a world without Peter Parker. 

“I’m sorry,” you heard Felicia whispering, tears streaming down her eyes as well as she got closer to you, you raised your eyes to see how she was bleeding a bit, she had been grazed by the first bullet but she hadn’t been shot. 

And then you heard the deep laugh coming from far away, you turned to see Kingpin’s satisfied expression as he watched the three of you on the floor. 

“This is where I leave you,” Kingpin said before he tried to somehow clean his suit and then started to walk towards where the case was, taking the gun in his hand, he seemed ready to grab the case by shooting at the web. 

And then your heart broke because this wasn’t the way it would end. This wasn’t it; Peter couldn’t die and Kingpin couldn’t win. 

Although Peter seemed unconscious, you could still listen to the faint beat of his heart, you knew that his modified DNA was still working to somehow fix the wound, that maybe the little regenerative liquid was working too and you knew that if he got the right medical attention, he could even make it. 

You grabbed Felicia’s hand and pulled her close to you, glaring at her as tears were still streaming down your face. 

“Felicia, take Peter to Stark Tower,” you ordered her, between sobs. “You have to take him, now.”

“What?” Felicia asked confused as she wiped the tears from her face, her voice wobbly and she almost instinctively gave a step back, as if she was afraid of the heaviness of the task that was being given to her.  

“He sacrificed himself to save you,” you answer back as you pulled Felicia forward by her hand and started to hand Peter’s motionless body to her. Felicia’s eyes seemed to be full of panic as you started to let go of Peter, giving him to her and then you looked directly into her eyes. “If you’re on my team, you need to save him.”

Felicia stuttered for a moment, but no words came out of her mouth as she stared into your eyes. But you didn’t budge, you didn’t change your expression or the seriousness of it, Felicia needed to go with Peter, now. 

It seemed like you had stopped breathing for a second as you waited for Felicia’s reaction, you knew that if she cared about you, she would do it and you hoped that she did. You were starting to panic but before you did, Felicia took all Peter’s weight and leaned him into her, holding him by his torso and placing his hand over her shoulders. 

“Do what you need to do,” Felicia answer as she took out her white whip and quickly latched it into one of the balconies, ready to get Peter out from Grand Central. You sighed and nodded, you turned to look towards where Kingpin was, ready to fire at the case, but before you turned completely around, Felicia interrupted you. “Stark, be careful?”

You simply nodded as you wiped the tears away from your face while Felicia climbed to the balcony with Peter in her arms, she didn’t look back as she carefully took Peter’s body and got out through the main doors of the Station. You turned to see Kingpin, you sighed deeply as your helmet close again, the red alarms still on the screen in front of you, along with the reminder that you were low on energy. 

“HAPPY, what do we have left?” You asked as you cracked your neck, the pain was still coursing through your body but at the moment you didn’t care much, your mind was too busy crafting a plan to get rid of Kingpin. 

“Miss Stark, you shouldn’t be using the repulsors cannon, or energy blasters or energy blade or-” the AI started but you interrupted as you started to limpidly walk towards Kingpin. 

“Yeah, I get it, no energy. Can you tell me if we have something that works?” you asked as you wince at the sound of the bullets crashing against the marble, ready to cut the case from where it was.

“You have the shoulder-formed micro-missile launcher ready and the zero canons, along with some other smaller missiles” the AI informed you. 

“Good, start firing them and safe the repulsors to lift me up when we are close enough,” you stated as you closed your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath and before you knew it, you were running alongside the missiles, ready for whatever would come your way. 

Kingpin didn’t see it coming, he barely reacted since he had been too busy with shooting the case, which was already budging. He turned around with a frown, only for it to turn into a wince as he tried to avoid the missiles and it sent him flying backward. You were livid as you shot three quick rapid-succession smaller missiles that hit Kingpin, you heard his angry screams as you got closer to him. You quickly reached the column where the case was and without doubting it once, with the little energy you had left you flew to catch it with a quick jump that allowed you to rip the case from the wall, breaking a little bit while on it.

Though it didn’t last long as you landed almost abruptly on the floor, it wasn’t your best landing and your wounds were killing you, but you didn’t care. You knew that you had to get out of there with the case, otherwise it would turn ugly. You turned around to gaze at Kingpin who was starting to stand up but before he could, you quickly fired at him the last bit of energy you had with one of your repulsors. 

“You can’t hurt the people I love and get away with it,” you screamed before you started to run away from Kingpin, your eyes on the stairs, ready to get out of there. 

But then, you felt the loud and strong steps of Kingpin running towards you, you tried your best to fly away but your suit wasn’t working anymore and you cursed mentally, knowing that it meant a change of plans, that you didn’t like as much. 

You turned at the moment when Kingpin, with his large hands, sent you to the opposite way of the door with a simple slap to your face as he reached you. You landed on the floor, head throbbing once more as you quickly took the case that had slipped from your hands for a second, you tried to stand up but Kingpin yanked your shoulder and you fell again onto the floor but with the case still in hand. 

“I tried to be patient with you little Stark,” Kingpin growled as he looked down at you, before he quickly tried to crush you beneath his fists, you quickly dodge it by rolling to your side before you opened the case but then Kingpin tried to yank your leg. “But I’ve had enough. You will die today”

You hissed at the pain on your heel and quickly kicked his face with your heel, allowing you to escape for a minute and take the gauntlet with the new repulsor before Kingpin tried to grab you again, you turned around and your hook punched Kingpin across his face. 

“I’m not little Stark,” you grumbled under your breath as you saw how Kingpin’s nose was bleeding even more profusely after your kick and your punch. His eyes were fire and his whole body was shaking with rage as he tried to wipe his nose from the blood, but the deep cuts that Felicia had done seemed to hurt him even more. “I’m fucking y/n Stark, and I’m ending this, now.”

Kingpin simply growled like an animal at your statement before he was ready to punch you one more time but before he could, you simply took a deep breath and felt the unbalanced energy that was focusing on your right arm. It seemed way more than ever before and you knew that by you have it, it could mean that it would end you. 

Cinnamon and honey, was the only thing you thought about before you fired at Kingpin with the repulsor, and a white light blinded you. 

And then there was silence. 

Tony was the one who found you, between the debris of the destroyed Grand Central Station, your vitals were so small that he almost missed you. He had been on Stark Tower for about forty-minutes as he tried to evacuate the guests and everyone, then he reached the penthouse where he had encountered your friends, he had asked about you but his heart had torn from his chest as he saw the state of your room. 

It wasn’t only until then that he realized that you were in trouble. 

He had flown as fasts as he possibly could when Harley had told him where you were, and he had reached the station just in time to find Black Cat carrying Peter through rooftops of the buildings, she had tried to avoid the police knowing that they were going to arrest her but also (maybe) even discover Peter’s secret identity. Felicia was struggling so much with Peter; she was crying her eyes out but without making any noise as she and Peter left behind a trail of blood. When Tony landed in front of her, she didn’t blink or seemed scared, she seemed relieved as Tony took Peter into his arms, struggling to keep it together as he saw the kid that felt like a son bleeding out in his arms. He was almost about to fly away when he realized that Felicia was hurt too, he immediately knew who she was but he didn’t say her name, he simply took her hand and then flew to Stark Tower as fast as he could before flying back and reaching the station when it blew up. 

The aftermath of the attack was greatly publicized all over the world. Every civilian was safe and no police officer that had been surrounding the perimeter and was attempting to step in was injured, Black Cat and Spiderman were recovering from their injuries, Kingpin had been found hurt but alive (incredibly) and was in a hospital before he was taken to prison and you were in a coma. 

Bruce and Dr. Helen Cho weren’t completely sure how you’d make it alive from an explosion as big as that, but everyone was grateful that you had survived without any major injuries that they could detect right away, Bruce nonetheless preferred to put you to sleep so your body could recover. 

All the Avengers had returned to visit you, to see how you were doing and even Fury who wasn’t fond of you spent a couple of hours in your room at the Medical Wing at the Compound. Tony and Pepper were on the first shift at five in the morning, then Steve and Nat, then they changed to Sam and Bucky, then Wanda and Vision, then Tony and Pepper again and then Rhodey and Bruce, Harley and Peter usually spent the night. It had been decided that you had to be on the Compound, along with Peter and Felicia to recover. It was best that you were away from prying eyes and in a place where every single person that lived there would take care of you. 

It wasn’t until a week later that you woke-up alone in your room at the medical wing. 

It was sunrise when you woke-up. The iris of fire-colored your room in the Medical wing, with a touch of golden light surrounding it. It was a cold sun of a winter morning, ones that you loved so much. You always thought that your body would be sluggish if you, by any chance, were subject to a coma but everything seemed to be dialed by a hundred as you opened your eyes and started to move. Everything ached from your injuries and the lack of movement from the past week, exhaustion also settled in your bones -even though you had been sleeping for so long-. Therefore, you had to take a minute before you decided to move again, deep breaths as the burning of your muscles continued for more than what you would like, it felt like multiple parts of your body were going to break in half. 

It wasn’t until you felt accustomed enough to the pain that your mind snapped, you realized that you were definitely alive and immediately your heart stopped on your chest. 

Was Peter alive?

“FRIDAY?” you rasped, coughing slightly at your sore and scratchy throat. You touched your neck slightly only to realize that you had bandages as well, and how they trailed down to your collarbone, torso and then you had a whole cast on your right arm. You supposed it was from the force of the explosion. 

“Welcome back, Miss Stark,” Friday said smoothly as you raised from your bed and realized, horrified, how many tubes you had around you, on your nose, a central line, and the usual IV. “Would you like me to call someone to remove some of the medical equipment?” she asked, almost as if she knew you wanted to quickly take off the tubes and IV, so you could find out what had happened with Peter.

“No,” you answered quickly as you turned to see the notes of Dr. Cho and the other medical team that was on the desk next to you. “Can I take this off myself without bleeding out Friday?” you asked as you went through the notes, reading them as fast as you could. 

You had various skull fractures, internal bleeding from your wound and you had been operated on to reinforce the stitches, you had a dislocated shoulder and a fractured arm, a broken rib even that had punctured your lung, burns on your right arm. Everything was accompanied by multiple scratches, lacerations, cuts, and bruises. You shivered at the thought of what your body had dealt with and how it could’ve been worse but your mind simply pushed it on the back of your mind as you tried your best to see how you could remove the tubes around you. 

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Tony said as he rose from the sofa in front of you. You knew how Tony looked when he was tired or when he was concerned, but the way he was looking now was something else that you would imagine. 

Tony looked more sunken and broken than you’d ever thought possible. The deep purple bags under his eyes were something that your dad would never get, he had spent so many sleepless nights that you believed he was immune to them, his red-rimmed eyes were also something that didn’t fit with the usual image you had from Tony or the most prominent fact was the tired expression that almost forced his face down. 

And it hit you that you were the reason he looked so bad; you were somehow the reason everything had somehow turned bad. Although you didn’t know what had happened with Kingpin, you knew that Peter and Felicia had been hurt and that you had most definitely destroyed a great part of an iconic historic building. And now your dad, The Avengers, your whole family had to deal with your erratic actions, with your mistakes, with your choices. 

It felt like you were going to throw up when you realized that Peter’s death would even be your fault, guilt started to drown you. 

You cracked. 

“Dad,” you sniffled, as you cover your face with your hands in shame for what you had done, ashamed of your actions and the consequences they had, ashamed that you might be the reason that Peter hadn’t survived. 

Your whole body began to shake uncontrollably, cries coming one after the other, almost escaping your lips involuntarily. But suddenly Tony simply walked over to you, pulling you quickly into his arms and holding you close as the tears fell from your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against Tony’s chest. 

“Sh. y/n, it’s alright,” Tony said as he caressed your hair, but it didn’t seem to ease your crying as you held to Tony tightly. Your dad, as strict and demanding as he always had been, was also the one person you admired the most, the one that you had shaped your life after, and disappointing him hurt more than what you would’ve liked to admit before.

“I’m sorry,” you pulled away and looked up at your dad’s softened expression. You didn’t want to say the words but your mind wasn’t able to handle anything else. “Di-did Peter…”

Tony reached down and held your face as he listened to you, but he seemed rather confused until he understood what and why you were asking, you didn’t know what had happened. 

“He made it. I found them on time,” Tony said quickly to ease your concerns but it only caused you to cry, even more, gratefulness washing over your body as you realized that you hadn’t lost Peter. Peter Parker was alive and you felt like you could breathe again. “He’s in the next room, he woke up two days after everything happened, he also asked for you when he woke-up.”

You felt like putty on your dad’s arm as tears streamed down your face but now, you had a slight smile on your face as you tried to deal with the fact that Peter was okay and that he had been asking for you. It dawned on you how much you depended on Peter, how even if you knew that you didn’t need him, the thought of living in a world without Peter Parker seemed too heavy of a burden for you to handle, you wouldn’t have known how to cope, how to live.

And then your mind wandered back to the one that helped him save him. 

“And, how’s she?” you asked as you pulled away from your Tony’s arms and laid again as your dad wiped the tears away. 

“She’s good, she was ready to go since day one but she wanted to stay until you were okay,” Tony explained to you and you couldn’t help to blush like you always did when it came to Felicia, the mercurial highs you experienced when you thought about her and the meaning of your relationship. “You wouldn’t think a criminal/hero would be your type,” Tony chuckled and you giggled a bit. 

“She’s different,” you admitted as you and your dad chuckled while looking at each other but then the air turned a bit heavier as the laughs died down. Your eyes still locked and you knew that it was going to be a hard conversation. 

You had resented your dad for so long, for wanting you to be one specific way, for keeping you in a cage and you realized on your last moment that none of it was worth it. Anger washed away when you knew what you had to do, you realized that you felt sorry for how your actions had hurt others but not about doing them, you had accomplished your mission and that was all it mattered. 

“I’m sorry for everything I did, I’m sorry for lying and for making the wrong choices. I didn’t mean for any of these to happen, I just wanted to do the right thing and to show you that I’m…” you felt the knot on your throat, so familiar. For the first time in forever, it seemed to stop you as you looked at Tony. 

“Y/N, you will always be enough,” he stated softly as he caressed your hair. “Although I don’t agree with a lot of things, you did what you believed you had to do to save people. You were willing to sacrifice yourself to do the right thing and I couldn’t be prouder of you. You don’t need to prove yourself to me or to anyone, you are who you are and that makes me the proudest and happiest dad.”

You felt your lower lip wobbling, eyes filling with tears as you took his hand in yours, placing it back down on the bed as you held it tightly. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but the way peace washed over your body, how it seemed to wash the pain away, felt like something new. 

“Thank you, dad”

Tony brought Bruce and Dr. Cho after your conversation, they removed some of the tubes like the central line and the oxygen tubes, but the IV had to stay in and you were ordered to remain in bed for a couple of more hours. They wanted to do testing, check your vitals for a longer period of time, and keep you in observation longer to see if there was any problem with you. Much to your dismay. The longing of seeing Peter only grew deeper when Tony told you that he had gone to see May in Queens, he had been waiting for you to wake-up that he hadn’t even visited May after she had come by to be with him while he was out and in surgery. 

You understood the point and you decided to think something else as you were chained to your bed, the perfect distraction walked in unannounced as she usually did. 

“You know, I knew you were badass but not badass enough to destroy Grand Central,” you heard Felicia’s silvery voice from the frame of the door. 

Felicia didn’t have her suit anymore, she was wearing some mom jeans and an oversize cardigan that fitted her nicely, as everything did with her. She had a sassy smirk drawn on her face, the same coy tone that she had used when you first had met her but you could also see a striking light on her eyes that you hadn’t seen before. 

You weren’t sure what it was but it fitted her nicely. 

“Don’t need to remind me, it’s kind of embarrassing,” you groaned from your bed with a small smile. 

Felicia giggled and then walked towards you, she swiftly climbed into your bed but she stayed at the edge of it as she stared down at you. She had the same kid-like expression that she had when you had visited Coney Island together, she was bright and herself. The warmth she had brought to your life, how she had been that fearless role model that you believed you needed, she was unapologetic, and how you had loved every single moment. 

But then, her eyes turned remorseful as she detailed all your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, for everything,” Felicia said softly, her eyes down as she nervously played with her hands, taking one strand of her silver hair to the back of her ear. 

“I know,” you answered but it didn’t really seem to go through Felicia’s mind. 

“I… It didn’t start like that, I swear,” she stated grimacing, as she tried her best not to look at you. She seemed so pained at the sight of you, it made you wondered if she had been as afraid as she had been the last time. “Just, when he found out, the terms of the agreement changed and I had to choose between saving my dad and…” Felicia’s chin started trembling as she tried to keep it together.

But you tried to raise from your place and take her hand, you just couldn’t completely so you simply patted the empty space next to you in the bed. Felicia looked up and immediately crawled next to you. You could see how hard she was trying to keep her tears from falling but you knew that if you kept the conversation in the same direction, they would be staining your bed. 

“I understand, I still think that you were an asshole but I understand,” you answered as honestly as you could as you held Felicia’s hand tight, she laced her hand in yours. “Thank you for saving Peter,”

Felicia shook her head. 

“He saved me, so we are somehow even,” she answered back, somehow still having some residual jealousy from Peter, you could feel it on her voice. “I love you, y/n. You know that, right?”

It was strange hearing her said that for the first time when everything had come undone when you were simply climbing from the lowest of lows in the rollercoaster that your relationship was. It was even stranger that you were aware that you were also in love with her but knowing that you couldn’t be with her. It wasn’t like you had stopped loving her, but the idea of going back to a real relationship with her after everything that had happened, after everything you had realized, didn’t seem right. 

“I love you too Felicia, but I just can’t…” you spoke softly, as honestly as you could, and with a modulated tone that even surprised you. 

“It’s okay,” she sighed softly as she looked at your y/e/c eyes. “I knew it was never just me, y/n.” Her answer made you furrow your eyebrows as you tried to really understand what she meant with not just her, rapidly blinking as you tried to listen to her carefully. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about,” she insisted as she squeezed your hand for a second as if it was a nudge that she would usually give you. “It was never just me, you couldn’t just love me, not completely at least since the start. He was always there”

Peter’s presence in your life and, therefore, in your relationship with Felicia seemed to dawn on you. But it was strange, you always thought that Felicia was this untouchable being, that her jealousy was small but that it wouldn’t taint your whole relationship.

But it had. 

“It doesn’t mean that I didn’t or that I don’t,” you stated quickly but Felicia smiled as she placed her thumb over your mouth softly, you stayed silent as she ran her fingers through your curls. 

“I know, it’s okay Stark. I can survive,” she answered playfully, as she naturally was and her eyes gleamed with confidence. 

“You always do,” you assured her as she climbed down from the bed.

Now on the edge next to your head she leaned down placed a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, so softly and with so much love that it was almost palpable in the air. You melted into the kiss as you leaned into her a bit more, into the cotton candy scent, you knew her by heart, all her little things and so, you knew what the kiss meant. It felt like a goodbye kiss, you could feel it by how her plump lips were purposeful and loving, but without the sheer intensity and raw want that they had before. 

You felt the knot on your throat because you knew her and what it actually meant, beyond breaking up.

“You are going to skip town?”

Felicia rose from your bed and finally let go of your hand she placed her hands on her pockets and sighed, she seemed to be choosing the correct words to actually tell you but when she looked at you again, it felt like she knew she could be honest. 

“Maybe, your dad arranged for my dad to get out the day that you woke-up. He’s being sent to a hospital and I’ll be with him for a while,” she answered truthfully and you felt your heart skipping a beat of joy as you realized that Tony had helped her and that, for what it seemed, there were no streams attached to the deal.

“Am I going to hear from you again?” you asked as Felicia started to walk towards the door, her hips going side to side and with the same confidence that she had the day you had met her. 

“Maybe,” she stated with a shrug, you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t be a stranger,”

“Never for you, Stark” she answered honestly as she reached the door.

“Be careful, Hardy”

Felicia looked back at you with her purple-ish grey eyes and there was fondness drawn on her features, she watched you lovingly from afar and you knew it was going to be a while until you saw the girl that had put your world upside down. You were so grateful for her and for what it seemed; she was grateful for you too. 

“You too, Stark”

The rest of the day you spent between sleeping, people taking out your blood, being transported into a larger regenerative cradled that Dr. Cho had brought, and changing your bandages. But deeply, you were just anxiously hoping to see Peter at the end of the day. You were hoping that he was going to be back sooner, but each time one of the Avengers came in, they would tell you that he hadn’t arrived. 

It was frustrating and disappointing, especially when Dr. Cho and Bruce told you that although you were technically allowed to walk, you shouldn’t be walking. Therefore, there wasn’t really walking allowed until they had approved it. You fumed a bit but you tried to dial it down, being angry seemed to simply make your bones ache more. You simply asked them if they weren’t willing to let you walk, then when Peter came back, they should send him to your room immediately. 

They agreed, then you asked for sushi and to be alone, Tony was a little bit cautious but he agreed.

A couple of minutes after he left the room, you were taking a deep breath and getting ready to leap from your hospital bed. Your whole body seemed to scream as you land your feet on the cold floor, it really did felt like someone had pulled you apart and then had tried to pull you together, the gravity making your muscles burn but after a minute or two, you managed to slowly start paddling towards the door in search for Peter. 

The door opened and before you could give another step the boy with the galaxy of freckles stood before you. 

Peter still looked pale but it was miles away from how he had looked when he was bleeding out on your arms a week before. You could see between his white shirt the bandages that were wrapped around his torso and chest, it was similar to the bandages that accompanied the cast that went right up to below the elbow, and then the thick bandages wrapped around your collarbone and shoulder, just above your elbow. Both of you had small band-aids scattering over your faces and body, along with taped down gauze pads and bandages that were covering random stitches and scratches. 

You both looked like messes, indeed. You tried to recall where you had been injured the same or worse but there wasn’t any memory coming back to you as you locked eyes with Peter. Not that it matters, because at the end of the day you were the same.

“Y/N,” he smiled tiredly, teary-eyed while he realized that you were okay. 

The waiting had been killing Peter slowly. As soon as Peter had woken-up, he started to ask for you non-stopped. He had realized that you had been left alone to deal with Kingpin, that he hadn’t been there as he had promised but Tony had convinced him that he wouldn’t be there at all if Felicia hadn’t gotten him out as you had instructed her. 

Peter had, therefore, as soon as he was able to leave his bed, stayed at the foot of your bed every night. He had moved the small couch in the room next to you, so he could be as close to you as possible while Harley stayed in the larger couch that was farther away from you. By the third night, Tony had decided to move the bed from his room in the medical wing to yours every night, until he had decided to see Aunt May.

He had been on May’s apartment, the apartment where he had lived for so long having a small dinner after May had reproached him how they weren’t spending as much time together when he almost died. She felt terrible after, knowing that Peter simply didn’t want to leave your side, but he also understood May and how scared she had been. 

He didn’t have good timing though; he had left his phone in his room while he spent the day with May and he only heard him while they finish an early dinner so that Peter could go back and sleep with you. But then Tony called again and Peter caught it, you were awake. 

He had rushed to the compound only to directly find you at the door. Peter winced as he saw the multiple injuries you had, it pained him beyond what he believed to see you that way. His PTSD after seeing you get shot didn’t make it better, he remembered how scared he was about losing you, how he had been almost certain that you weren’t going to make it. And here you were not even a month after, Peter hated it. 

You didn’t react when you saw him, you knew you couldn’t open your mouth, or otherwise, you would start crying and nothing would stop you. So, you only took his hand and walked with him towards your bed, softly and quietly. Peter didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to, the silence that settled between the two of you was enough for him to know what you wanted. 

You climbed to the bed slowly, trying to be as careful as you could with your injuries but Peter didn’t wait, he picked you up easily and placed you in the bed before climbing next to you. You laid there looking up to the ceiling while Peter was curled up next to you, you took his hand again almost instantly and your legs tangled together. You breathe out slowly as you felt the warmth that you had always felt around Peter when you were together. 

And you recalled how it felt in the moments that you believed that he wasn’t there. 

“You can’t do that again,” you whispered softly without looking at Peter, eyes still trained in the roof. 

You were trying not to cry; you were done crying but it seemed almost as if all the feelings that had been bottling up on your body were finally released. You hoped that it would stop soon because it had become exhausting to feel the wave after wave of tears, anger, sadness, fear, everything. 

“What?” Peter asked shyly as he watched you softly, as his fingers daintily ran through your hair as you closed your eyes and sighed for a moment, trying to find the words that wouldn’t break your voice. 

“You can’t just…” you stuttered and Peter waited patiently as you tried to say how you felt. “You can’t just willingly get hurt.”

“I…” 

“I know that a stupid thing for me to say but you just can’t,” you stated as you felt the burning tears escaping your eyes again, while you tried with frustration to make them stop by wiping them from your face as soon as they started to fall.

Peter was at a loss of words as he watched you quietly. Hadn’t you realized why he had done it? You turned to watch Peter and your eyes locked, with your right arm, as softly and delicate as you could, you traced Peter’s features. You tried to memorize how he looked at that moment next to you, you knew that you could imagine every tiny detail of Peter’s body if you were asked to, but you wanted to keep this image in your memory. 

Something that assured you that Peter would always be there, even after the worst had happened. You felt like it was the only thing you could keep other than the feeling of being grateful to know that he was there. 

“Just, why don’t you take into account that I love you?” you pouted, chin wobbly as you recalled his blood-tainted suit and how he had told you that you were his.  “I felt so helpless holding you while I saw you leaving me and I couldn’t do anything”

Peter froze when he heard the L-word in present, his heart was hammering on his chest and he was sure that he was blushing as he gazed at you. Peter had waited years, years, to hear you say what you were saying and with the actual meaning that he wanted to hear. It wasn’t in past, it wasn’t polluted by past lovers, it was truthful and it was raw and it was everything that he ever wished for. 

“I did it because I love you,” Peter whispered softly as he shifted on the bed and got closer to you, just a breath away from you as his hand came to cup your face. “If Felicia died… I mean, she was your girlfriend. I just want you to be happy y/n, that’s all I want for you and I didn’t want you to lose her,”

It just dawned on you, how selfless the love that Peter had for you was. You had waited for years, years to hear him say that with all the raw feelings, without any other ties of past fights and hurts, without doubting it for a second. It was an honest love; it was everything you had ever wished for. 

“Thank you,” you answered honestly because you knew you would’ve been devastated if Felicia had died but you didn’t know if you would ever feel such despair as you felt when you thought Peter was dying. “But just understand that I will always be happy if you are in my life, Peter Parker,” 

Peter’s smile lit up the room as he looked at you with his bright chocolate eyes and when he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, you knew that you had reached Nirvana. He breathed life back into you with his warm and soft lips that tasted like honey and cinnamon as you tried as carefully as you could to get as close to him as possible. You had dreamed about this for so long that it almost seemed surreal that it was out, everything was done and your soul lighting up as you kissed Peter with all the energy on your body, everything that you felt was Peter Parker. You wanted to be consumed by him, you wanted to forever have Peter with you and you had never been as sure about anything before. 

“I’m always going to be here, I promise y/n”

He was warm, he was your home and you smiled as you leaned again into him. 

******

taglist: @spideylovin @fandomtrash100 @soullessbabee @liljennyx3​

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author’s note: Okay so ONE MONTH LATER THE FINAL CHAPTER? YES. This was so hard to write and it took me like a loooooooot of time but I really hope that you enjoy it. Next week (I promise) we will have the Epilogue and I’m going to write a blurb at your request about Felicia and y/n in this universe so PLEASE if you have any request, you can tell me in my inbox and I’ll be more than happy to answer. 

This has been a ride and I’m really thankful to everyone that took the time to read this series and that were kind enough to send me feedback and comments. I really really appreciate it and you can imagine how you made my days. 

I’ll update de epilogue tomorrow and there’s a playlist that will come tomorrow pinpointing an exact scene for a song, I would like to know what you would think will happen in the Epilogue. 

please please please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this chapter and if you have ANY theories or comments I would love to see them!!! I’m already so happy with the love you have given to the last chapters, I really hope you like it!  any feedback is well received and thank you so much!

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[time-machine-fart]

His White Shirt

Pairings: Steve X Reader

Words: 7.1k 

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), FLUFF, mentions of sex BUT NO SMUT! and mentions of blood and gunshot wounds (NO VIOLENCE THOUGH).

Summary: Post Civil War fugitive Steve is on the run, but he is shot. He can’t go to the hospital, so he comes to the reader’s house, who happens to be his ex-girlfriend.  

Recommended music to listen to: 

False God by Taylor Swift

Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

Cut That Always Bleeds by Conan Gray

This is a long story. You’ll enjoy it better if you read it slowly. Make a cup of coffee, perhaps? Just kick back and relax, and enjoy this one shot ;)

I huffed as I tugged the last piece of cloth from the hanger and discarded it into a small bucket. With great effort, I managed to close the window that thudded loudly against the barbarous winds. Breathless, I took a seat at the edge of the bed as I surveyed my surroundings. The bucket contained the clothes that I had left to dry out in the morning, because the stupid dryer broke down again. I had hoped to save them from getting wet by the rain but unfortunately I was too late. They were thoroughly drenched.

The floor near the window was wet too, because I didn’t care to close the window before going to sleep. I internally groaned at the thought of going to work tomorrow amidst the humid weather and the moist muddy ground.

I glanced at the clock, which read 11:14 pm. I was having a peaceful, dreamless sleep, until I heard the rain thumping against my window.

I spent the next ten minutes cleaning up the mess. The sudden running about made me lose sleep, so I lazily dragged myself to the living room, where I ensconsed myself in the comfort of my sofa. I switched on the TV and absent-mindedly switched through the channels. I finally settled on a news channel.

A blonde woman, in her late 20’s, stood in front of an empty restaurant, with shattered windows and broken tables. She was wildly gesticulating at her surroundings, so I cranked up the volume to hear what she was saying.

There was a shootout, apparently. Civilians were injured, only one dead. I squinted at the screen. There was something about the restaurant that I quite couldn’t place. Had I been there before? The reporter answered my question when she mentioned the location of the restaurant. It was just a few blocks away from my home. That didn’t surprise me much, because my neighbourhood wasn’t exactly posh. Crimes were not uncommon here.

I listened to the reporter yammer on for a few more minutes before switching off the TV. I gazed at the grey empty streets of Munich and the trees swishing wildly against the wanton winds. My eyes grew heavy and my shoulders drooped. Perhaps I could sleep right here on the couch and not go to work tomorrow…

But the sound of the doorbell jolted me awake.

It was 11:43 am. My knowledge about this country was little, but I knew this much that Germans definitely didn’t just pop bye their friend’s houses at midnight. It could be my brother, I thought, as I dialled the emergency number on my phone. But he lived in the UK, and he’d definitely call me before he decided to visit me. I rushed to the kitchen to find a knife. It is an intruder, I thought. I was sure of it. The bell rang again.

I tip-toed towards the door, a knife clutched tight in my hand and the emergency number on the standbye. I ducked under the peep-hole and raised my head slowly to look at the person. Observing at the silhouette, I judged it was a man. And that’s when I recognised him. I cautiously opened the door, to find Steve Rogers in front of me, after seven long months.

You’d think seven months would change a person’s appearance, but he didn’t. His dirty blonde hair that I used to run my hands through; his rosy lips that would kiss me every morning despite my protests about having bad breath; his wide and muscular frame towering over me that (to this day) annoys me and used to amuse him…all remained the same. One could look at him and say nothing changed in these past seven months, when my entire world tipped off balance and fell right into the hands of this man.

‘Steve what are you doing here!’ I asked, my voice tremulous.

'Can I come in?’ was his reponse. He was taking short breaths, his hand clutched over his side. Was he hurt? It was hard to tell. It was dark outside, and his shirt was black.

I stepped aside, and let him in. He was standing in the middle of the living room, completely drenched. His wet shirt clung to his skin and beads of water trickled down his face.

'I’m sorry for ruining your carpet,’ he said, his tone pleasant and conversationary. His hand was still clutched to his side.

'Steve you are shivering.’ I stated. I could see his teeth chattering, even though he was trying to hide it.

He just looked at me. I was wrong before. Everything was the same, except his eyes. Those once steely, blue, confident eyes now looked spiritless, soft and…hurt.

'Steve, are you okay?’ I asked him finally. I tried to look calm, but my head was spinning with thoughts. It felt surreal, having him in my room when we had promised we’d never see each other again.

'I’d feel a bit better if you kept that knife down,’ he responded. He winced a little, as if talking hurt him. I barely noticed the knife in my hand. I placed it on the couch.

'I’m gonna get you a towel,’ I said and rushed to my bedroom. I came back with a towel in my hand and instead of offering it to him, I draped it around his shoulder. He graciously accepted the warm relief around him and hugged it closer with a sigh. I heard him wince when my hand brushed against his stomach.

'What’s wrong?’ I demanded, but didn’t wait to hear his explanation. I lifted his shirt a little to see what was the matter.

'Steve, you are shot!’ Alarmed, I leaned in to look at the wound more closely. A bullet was lodged in his muscle, just above the edge of his pelvis.

'Good observation,’ he replied.

'I’m taking you to the hospital.’ I announced.

'Y/N you’re not taking me anywhere,’ he gripped my wrist.

'Steve, you are shot–’ I began.

'That’s why I’m here, Y/N. You are a doctor,’ he asserted.

'I’m an intern!’ I shouted.

'Y/N you know I can’t be seen. It’d be a big problem for me and you.’ He stated firmly.

'How did this happen!’ I was on a verge of panic.

'I’ll tell you everything, but first I need your help sewing this up,’ he panted.

Defeated, I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. My eyes flitted to the phone in my hand, where the emergency number was just one tap away. I could send him to the hospital, where he would get the proper treatment. But the US Government would capture him again, and he’d have to sit in a jail for months, possibly years – no, that can’t happen. But I wasn’t an expert either. I could seriously hurt him if I did anything wrong. A final look at his pleading puppy blue eyes convinced me to make my decision.

'Alright, fine,’ I said. 'Lie down here.’ I cleared the sofa and helped him lie down. His warm hand was still clutched on mine.

He moaned softly as his body sank in the warm comfort of my couch. He scrunched his eyebrows and his lips parted in gratification. I couldn’t help but swoon a little at the sight of him – a supersoldier with the ability to pull helicopters from the sky, now just a normal man on my couch. Perhaps he wasn’t completely invincible.

'Thank you,’ he said sincerely, his eyes boring into mine. His eyes twinkled, and the blue in them looked more prominent.

I tried to smile, I really did. I wanted to assure him and tell him everything would be okay, that I’d fix him up properly, but I couldn’t. Instead I gave him something like a half-smile and a half-whimper, and gently pried his hand away from my wrist.

I walked towards my bedroom, my face calm and composed but my confidence dropping with every step I took. I pressed my shoulder against the cupboard and closed my eyes, my breath ragged as anxiety started rising in my chest. I cannot afford to screw this up. I tried to recollect everything my superiors taught me about gunshot wounds, but my mind was in a dissaray, constantly reminding me of a hundred ways I could screw this up.

I am not going to let Steve get hurt, I scolded my subconscious. I will fix him up first and then worry about other things.

With new determination and resolve, I rushed around the house to find anything and everything I would need to do the surgery. Washcloth, tweezers, gauze, needles, I checklisted the items in my head as I collected them one by one.

I was back in the living room, kneeling in front of him while I arranged the first aid kit at my feet. I tugged at his shirt, and rolled it upwards to get a better glance at the wound, but it kept rolling down.

'Steve, I’m sorry, but you have to get up again. You need to take off your shirt,’ I said.

He groaned softly, and I felt guilty for causing him ache and discomfort. I helped him take his shirt off, and place it away from the makeshift surgical field. His chest was bloody and wet.

Fear and anxiety tugged at my heart again. Usually I do this under supervision, and with proper equipment. One wrong nerve and I could mess him up permanently.

A gentle hand on my shoulder halted my train of thoughts. Steve’s hand inched towards my neck, and my heartbeat accelerated. Was he trying to calm me down? Because that wasn’t working. My hand involuntarily crept towards his chest, which was still cold, but atleast he wasn’t shivering any more.

'You can do this, Y/N,’ he whispered, his eyes scolding me to get a grip on myself. I noticed the close proximity between our two faces, when I knelt towards him and sat on the balls of my feet. His lips tugged into a boyish smile and said, 'I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t believe you were a good doctor.’

'Intern,’ I corrected, but a smile finally made its way to my lips.

'Intern,’ Steve repeated, as his fingers absent-mindedly stroked the back of my neck. I felt a strong desire in my heart to kiss him. I wanted to stop the time, and paint this moment right there, where he was back in my house, and we were in each other’s comfort, so that I’d look at it again and again.

But we had said our goodbyes. He was a soldier-turned-fugitive on the run and I was barely a doctor. I figured this would end some day. He finally said it, and I remember feeling numb at his words. Being in a relationship with him meant endangering my life, and he woudn’t allow me to get mixed up in his world. Governments, villains, anyone would use me as bait once they found out I was Steve’s girlfriend. Of course I protested. We shouted, argued, fought with each other for days but I knew it was a long time coming. When he left, it felt empty. I had fallen in love with the perfect person, and now he was taken away from me under the pretense of my safety. Getting over him was the hardest thing I had to do. I was not going to fall for him again.

I cleared my throat, and his hand dropped. I diverted my concentration on saving his life. It didn’t take as long as I had expected. I cleaned the wound, and managed to remove the bullet without losing pints of blood, thanks to his serum powers that healed him faster than normal people. My insides squirmed with dread as I picked up the needle that I would use to stitch him up.

I looked up at him, and found him staring at me intensely. 'Don’t look at me,’ I whispered. 'You are making me nervous.’

He chuckled weakly and looked away at the ceiling.

My fingers surprisingly moved slowly and efficiently with fine dexterity as I sewed up his wound. Apart from a few hisses and groans that Steve emitted when I would accidentally put too much pressure or prick his skin, I managed to stitch him up well. It wasn’t until I had attached the gauze to his wound when I let out a sigh of relief and slumped down to the floor. I rested my head against the edge of the couch. I was panting, as if I had run a marathon, when the only activity I had done was sit on my knees and move my hands a bit. But I felt instantly calm. The weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had managed to not kill my ex-boyfriend.

His hand clutched my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but hold his hand. Warmth spread through my body as our hands touched, just how it did when we had first met.

'Hey,’ he said, his voice soothing and stable than before. 'Are you okay?’

I couldn’t see his face because my back was facing him, but I noticed the concern in his tone. 'Just tired,’ I sighed, and my head leaned onto the unhurt part of his chest.

I heard his breath hitch in his throat. 'I’m sorry, doll. I truly am.’ he said, his voice hoarse.

My heart tingled with nostalgia and butterflies when he called me doll. It was something he called only me.

I turned around so I was facing him. His eyes gazed at me intently that made me feel weak on the inside. 'You don’t have to be sorry for anything,’ I answered, trying to avoid sounding feeble. 'I couldn’t have left my ex-boyfriend bleed to death on my doorstep, now could I?’ I smiled.

He laughed a little at my words and his mouth spread out into a goofy grin. 'Now what?’ he said, running his fingers across the gauze.

'I’ll get you some fresh clothes. You are still wet. You should sleep here tonight.’ I said, as I got up with a groan.

Steve hesitated. 'Are you sure, Y/N?’ He looked down at his fingers. 'I mean, I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.’

'Nonsense, Steve. You anyway can’t go out in this weather, let alone walk.’ I gathered the medical supplies on the floor. I didn’t let him answer back because I walked out of the room, but I did hear a faint 'I’m sure I can still walk…’

After dumping all the materials in the kitchen, I trodded towards my bedroom, to find some clothes for Steve. I opened my closet to find all my clothes in a cluttered mess. I rummaged through the bottom section and pulled out Steve’s old white shirt that I had kept with myself. My cheeks flushed at the thought of Steve finding out that I had kept one of his shirts with me.

'Now that’s why I can’t seem to find my favourite shirt.’ A voice said from behind me. I whipped my head around to find Steve looking at me, with his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed on his chest.

'You’re out of bed,’ I said as I got up, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.

'I’m fine,’ he pulled his shirt from my hands, a mocking grin plastered over his face. 'And clearly I can walk.’

'But you shouldn’t.’ I scolded him.

I turned around to search for a pair of pants in the closet. I pulled out a set of sweatpants that my brother kept with me in case he decided to come over and visit me. I tossed it towards Steve, who catched it effortlessly.

'You still keep things messy, I see. Looks like you haven’t changed a bit.’ He teased me again. He did seem to be mocking me a lot lately, considering I just saved his life. But I had to admit before he came into my life I wasn’t exactly a functional adult.

I shot daggers at him as I shut the closet door a little too loudly. I hate it when I have nothing witty to say back.

'You can change here,’ I mumbled, and closed the door to the bedroom on the way out.

I sighed for the millionth time today as I poured myself a glass of water. Steve is here. Steve is here! I thought happily. Damn my brain for getting excited. He is here just for one night. He is gonna go tomorrow. My mind sobered up a little. To prevent myself from cooking up any more fantasies in my brain, I began making coffee.

I heard the bedroom door open after a few minutes. I walked out of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee in my hands.

'Oh sweet, is that for me?’ Steve said, as he ambled towards me. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, looking so soft in his white shirt and grey sweatpants. Just how he looked every morning when he’d get up, his hair a mess and his sweatpants hanging low…No, don’t you dare go there.

He still looked pale and I noticed him limp a little. Legs tend to get heavy.

I laughed. 'No, silly. This is for me. You can’t have any beverages yet.’

Steve frowned. 'Not even water?’

'Normally people must not drink after getting shot.’ I took a sip.

'Well, I’m not normal, am I?’ he smiled.

'Still. Go sit in the living room. You can’t have anything unless I tell you so.’ I ordered.

Steve rolled his eyes and dragged himself towards the living room like a scolded child, his wet clothes in his hands.

'You can give them to me. You’re not going to be wearing these again are you?’ I said, pointing at his wet and bloody clothes.

'Why? So that you can keep them with you?’ he smirked.

'Oh get off it,’ I mumbled, and snatched the load off his hands. I could feel his smile broaden as I tramped towards the kitchen where I threw them in the garbage.

Steve sat on the part of the sofa that was clean and not dirty with water and blood. I adjusted the thermostat to make the room warmer and silently prayed Steve didn’t catch pneumonia or anything.

I sat beside him, careful not to spill any coffee.

'I’m sorry I ruined your couch.’ He said, keeping a little distance from my face now.

'It’s okay. It was due for an upgrade anyway,’ I sipped. 'So tell me everything. What happened?’ I turned to face him.

Steve sighed. 'You know that Indian restaurant down the street? Well, I was there –’

'The one that got burned down!’ I gasped.

'Yeah, how’d you know?’ he asked.

'Just saw it on the news.’

'Oh,’ he replied. 'Well, I was there to meet Natasha’s informant –’

'Wait, where is Natasha? And Sam? Are they okay?’ I interrupted him again.

'They’re okay, and will you let me finish?’ Steve said, exasperatedly.

'Sorry.’ I pursed my lips.

'Yeah, so anyway. I was there to meet this guy who Natasha knew well. We’re beginning to track these criminals who are smuggling Chitauri tech in the Middle East. Natasha and Sam are in Berlin, meeting other people who might know about that stuff. So I was talking to him, when the feds burst in.’

My eyes widened. Of course, the US Goverment won’t just give up on finding Steve Rogers.

'I managed to escape with just one bullet wound,’ he placed his hand on the bandage. 'But the other guy died in the line of fire.’

I looked at him. A shadow fell over his face. 'I’m sorry, Steve.’ I said.

'I managed to call Nat by a public telephone to tell her I was okay. Of course, I wasn’t exactly okay. Then I thought of you. You lived closest to the restaurant, so I came to you,’ he said, his head hung low.

'I’m sure you did everything to save him,’ I assured. I truly did feel sorry for him. He had lost so many people already.

'Yeah, I did.’ He said, his voice thick.

The atmosphere suddenly became tense and heavy. 'I suppose you can drink some water now,’ I said after a few moments, trying to dissipate the tension. I returned from the kitchen to find him observing a picture frame of my family.

'How’s your brother?’ he asked me as I handed him the glass of water. Cole, my brother, was one of the few people who knew of our relationship.

'He’s well. He and Josh are thinking of adopting a little girl.’ I smiled and pointed at the picture of Josh, my brother’s husband. Steve nodded in acknowledgement.

'And your grandfather?’ he asked.

'Oh. He passed away 3 months ago.’ I said quitely.

Steve put the frame on his lap. 'I’m so sorry, Y/N.’ He looked at me with a countenance that said he knew the pain of losing a loved one all too well.

'It’s okay,’ I said. I had spent some time with him when Steve broke up with me. Steve doesn’t know, but my grandfather knew of our relationship. I turned the little ring around my pinky finger. The last gift my grandfather gave me before passing away.

I realized I must be getting emotional because my throat felt constricted all of a sudden.

I hurriedly placed the frame back in its original position. 'So you said something about the Middle East?’ I asked, anxious to change the topic.

'Yeah, we are trying to take down small criminals who are dealing with Chitauri tech. Somehow the main source in New York has stopped supplying but there are other criminals who are also dealing with that stuff in the Middle East. We have managed to get enough intel to make a move.’ He said.

My heart drooped like a wilted flower. He was going away now, for real. Of course, I knew he would not be around when we broke up but I always assumed he’d be somewhere nearby…like in Europe or something. Now he is gonna go to a place really far.

'When are you leaving then?’ I asked, trying to mask the hurt in my voice.

'Tomorrow.’ he replied. Maybe I saw a glimpse of guilt in his eyes.

Tension loomed again. God, what is it with all this angst today?

'What’s going on with you lately?’ he asked, and I mentally thanked him for changing the subject.

'I’ve been reading a lot. But the work is super hectic so I don’t get much chance.’ I shrugged.

'Are you seeing anyone?’ he asked.

I blinked in surprise. Whoa, where did that come from? He tried to act nonchalant but I could see right through him. I felt annoyed and angry for some reason.

'You didn’t just ask me that.’ I scoffed.

'Why what’s the proble –’

'What’s the problem? You come here after seven months and the first thing you ask about me is if I have a boyfriend?’ My voice rose several octaves.

He paused. 'Why are you getting pissed? It’s just a question. And what did you mean about the seven months thing? I have to move around a lot. It’s not like I had a choice. ’

'I’m not angry about that. It’s just…oh, forget it.’ I sighed.

'It’s just what, Y/N?’

'It’s- it’s you. You pack your bags one day, just leave, and don’t even call me –’

'That’s how break-ups work.’

'I know! It’s just…you out of all people shouldn’t ask me this, okay?’

'You’re hiding something,’ he gazed at me intensely. 'What are you thinking, Y/N? I won’t ask you again.’

I swallowed. 'It took me so long to get over you. You just went away, with your friends fighting bad guys everywhere, and I was just stuck here in this godforsaken place. I really didn’t want you to go, but you still did. And now, you come back, just as suddenly as you left and you have the gall to ask me if I am dating someone?’ I felt my voice quiver in the end. I wasn’t crying, but I was on the edge of it. I cannot afford to cry. I am done being the weak one in this relationship.

'I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again,’ he looked at me incredulously. 'Do you think I wanted to leave you? Do you think I wasn’t even a bit hurt and guilty for leaving you behind?’ he sighed exasperatedly. 'I don’t want you to get hurt-’

'You don’t get to decide if I can get hurt or not!’ I shouted.

'Yes, I do!’ he slammed his glass on the table. 'You may not care if you get hurt, but I do. How do you think I’ll feel if something happened to you? Who do you think will take all the blame? How do you think I’ll live with that?’ he said angrily.

'Ever thought about me, Steve? Ever thought what’d I do if you died? Every morning I would wake up thinking it could be your last day. How did you think I dealt with that when we were together? The answer is: it was scary and agonizing. But I still dated you, didn’t I? I thought in a relationship both the people made sacrifices. I did mine, why won’t you do yours?’ I shouted.

'I just won’t, okay? Call me an asshole, I don’t care. But I am not going to lose another person because of me. And that’s final.’ he snapped.

I couldn’t control the tears any more. Tears rushed down my cheeks and I hated myself for crying in front of him. I shook my head, trying to somehow stop them from falling. I hated everything, this unfair situation, this horrible luck, and my heart for falling for him.

I held my face in my palms, trying to muffle the sobs as best I could. 'This just shows how much you care.’ I said.

He was silent.

'Forget it, I’m going to sleep.’ I got up, wiping a fresh tear with the back of my hand.

'I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I didn’t look back and walked towards the bedroom. I grabbed an extra blanket that I kept under the bed and came back to the living room, wiping away any other excess tears along the way.

'Here, take this,’ I handed him a blanket. 'I wouldn’t want you to get cold.’

'Oh, thanks.’ He said. My eyes drifted to the couch. It was wet. And bloody. No condition to sleep in. I pondered over a moment whether I should ask him to sleep with me or not.

'You shoudn’t sleep here. The couch is wet and dirty.’ I said, my voice a bit hoarse. He stopped unfolding the blanket.

'I don’t think I should sleep in your bed, I-’

'Honestly, it’s okay. Besides, you’re injured. Sleeping in that little space could hurt you.’

'I can handle a little hurt.’ He said. I noticed the gleam in his eyes fade.

'Alright, your choice. If you still want to come, you can. I won’t mind.’ I sighed, and trudged back to my room.

I switched off the lights and slipped into my duvet. The pouring rain outside perfectly reflected my sombre mood. I sniffled and cried a bit more before slipping into a deep slumber.

The screeching of my alarm woke me up. I switched it off. My eyes burned with the lack of sleep. It should be a crime to make me sleep for only five hours. My shift started at 8, and it was 6:15 am at the moment. My body felt hot for some reason. I looked down and gasped as I saw a warm hand wrapped around my waist. Steve. He must have come back sometime in the night. I clutched my pillow tight as my heartbeat accelerated. I wondered if he intended to touch me, or it just happened. I foolishly wished for the former.

I turned to look at him. His face was calm and serene. Boys always seem to look younger when they are peacefully asleep. His hair was tousled and his lips were parted just a little. I missed the mornings when I would run my hands through his beard and snuggle close to his chest.

Flashbacks of last night flooded my mind. I thought about his obstinacy, and how much I hated the fact that he took my decisions. But he was somehow right in his judgement. He had lost everyone he knew when he went into the ice - Bucky, his friends, and so many people even after coming out of the ice. If I were him, I wouldn’t want more people to die for me. I sighed. So where does that leave us? Is our relationship over now, officially?

I turned a bit more to his side, careful not to wake him. But his eyes twitched a little and I knew he was waking up.

I stayed still as his blue eyes fluttered open and focused on me. Silence loomed over us, as we faced each other. The only sound we could hear was of our own breathing. 'Morning,’ he said, his voice husky and thick.

'Morning,’ I replied.

We resumed staring into each other’s eyes. I thought of the mornings when he’d caress my hair, kiss me deeply and make passionate love that left me pining for more. I looked into his lustrous blue eyes and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

'How are you feeling?’ I murmured groggily.

His hand travelled to his stitched up wound. 'It doesn’t hurt much now,’ he said.

'Of course it doesn’t,’ I smirked. 'I’m an excellent doctor.’

He chuckled lightly and I noticed his hand was still wrapped around my waist. 'Don’t you mean intern?’

'No, you can call me a doctor now. I deserve it.’ I said. I placed my palm on his neck. His breath hitched at the contact. I noticed his eyes turn darker.

'You’re warm though,’ I stated and withdrew my hand. 'Do you have a fever?’

'I am usually this warm. You forgot?’ he whispered.

Of course I didn’t. My hopeless heart was searching for reasons to make him stay a bit longer.

I simply smiled in response.

'You feel a bit cold,’ he said. 'Did you not sleep with a blanket?’

'I sleep with one but I always kick it away at night when it gets toasty. You forgot?’ I turned the question on him.

'Guess I did.’ He shrugged.

Well that was rude. I mean, I couldn’t blame him for not remembering my little quirks. Unlike me, he had important things to focus on instead of thinking about me. But still, a small voice said from the back of my head. Does he not think about me much?

'I’m sorry about yesterday,’ he said after a pause. 'I shouldn’t have shouted.’

'I shouldn’t have shouted either,’ I confessed. 'I’m sorry too.’

'So I guess this is it, then?’ he sighed.

'Yeah,’ I responded quitely, and hoped he didn’t hear my heart shatter into a million pieces. A look of understanding passed between us. We were never going to see each other again. Then I attempted something very risky.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself closer to him, closing the small proximity between our bodies. I nestled my head in his chest, and my fingers tentatively grasped his biceps. I didn’t meet his eyes. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I heard the soft thumps of his heart against my ears become erratic with every growing second. It would be an embarrassment of a lifetime if he didn’t reciprocate my actions. But then his hold on my waist grew tight. He dragged his fingers up my spine and planted them on my neck, an act which sent shivers through my entire body. I felt his hot breath on my scalp before he planted a soft kiss on my temple. His lips lingered over there. My insides squirmed with desire, and my breathing turned ragged. I moved my fingers across his chiseled chest, taking in his scent and feeling his heartbeat which had not slowed down yet.

My subconscious curled up in this sweet moment of comfort and love, but then I remembered I had to go to work. Unwantingly, I pushed myself away from him and sat up on the bed. I gazed down at him, his eyebrows were furrowed and his blue eyes dark with desire. 'My shift is starting at 8. I’ll be out making breakfast,’ I sighed, and clambered out of the bed. Before walking out the room, I turned around and said, 'You can rest till I make breakfast. I’ll call you when it’s done.’

I used the last remaining eggs I had in the house to make pancakes. I was placing hot pancakes on the plate when I noticed Steve hadn’t come out yet. I set them down on the dining table near my window along with two hot cups of coffee. I looked at the sky. It was blue and cloudy, any trace of rain gone.

I went back in the bedroom to call Steve out, when I noticed he was sleeping again. I climbed in beside him and shook his shoulders. 'Steve wake up,’ I said. He groaned in response.

'C'mon, breakfast is ready.’ His eyes opened tentatively. He rose, balancing his body on his shoulders. I felt guilty for waking him up when he should have been sleeping for much longer. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes still drifting in and and out of consciousness. I feared he must have thought it was all a crazy dream, what we did before. I didn’t blame him for falling asleep though, he was tired and injured.

'Alright, come on now, get up.’ I grasped his arm and pulled him up. I would have let him sleep more but I had to go to work and so did he.

He joined me in the living room a few minutes later. His walk was back to normal again, and one could say he had never even been shot.

'I miss these,’ he said, smiling nostalgically at the pancakes as he sat down opposite to me. 'Now I can eat, right?’ he mockingly asked for my permission.

'You may.’ I smiled and dig into my pancakes.

We scarfed down our breakfast silently, talking only to ask for more maple syrup or sugar. Steve went into the kitchen to bring more coffee, ignoring my orders about him not getting up.

He placed my mug on the table, and ambled up to the window, where he gazed at the sunrise. I swooned a little at the sight of him, his white shirt perfectly hugging his muscles, and his tall frame towering over me that reminded me of his habit of pinning me against the wall when we made out.

I squirmed in my seat, rubbing my legs together to release the tension that had formed between my thighs. I was begging my brain to stop thinking about him like that.

I realized I hadn’t asked him what time was he leaving. Or more specifically, how was he leaving.

'Steve?’ he looked back. 'When are you going to be leaving?’ I asked.

'At 10 am. A quinjet is waiting for me at the airport,’ he said. 'I called it in as a favour from King T'Challa.’ He added, when he saw a look of confusion on my face.

'Oh’ was my only reply. The final goodbye crept nearer.

'Yeah. Which reminds me I have to go to back to my apartment to gather my stuff.’ He said. 'When does your shift start?’ he asked.

'In an hour,’ I looked at him. He nodded coolly. He seemed pretty nonchalant about leaving, I noticed. Maybe he has gotten over me,or maybe he found someone, like a secret agent or someone, I thought enviously. Of course, he should have dated someone who could take care of themselves if there was danger. I couldn’t protect myself if someone attacked me, but someone experienced like Natasha or Maria could protect themselves. He should have dated someone like them, not me.

'Well, in that case I shouldn���t stall you any more,’ he muttered.

I got up, and my brain scavenged for more reasons to make him stay. He gathered the plates and mugs and carried them to the kitchen. I swallowed thickly, pushing down the incoming wave of dread that will overcome me when he will walk out the door. I was aware of my attachment towards him. If I didn’t have to go to work now, would we have slept with each other this morning? It would have been the best morning since months. But I knew I still wouldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have borne the thought of him leaving again, especially after we did something so intimate as sex. Getting over him was the most exruciating thing I had done in my life. I am still going to be pining for him tomorrow, but at least it would hurt less.

Pain will always be lesser if you detach yourself from him, grandfather’s words flashed from my last ever visit. I absent-mindedly turned the ring on my pinky finger. I won’t be around forever to pester you with my wisdom, my dear child, he said when he handed my the ring. So let this ring be a reminder to make wise choices.

The wise choice is to get over him, but I just can’t, because everything reminds me of him and the circle starts all over again.  

'Do you have money to pay for the cab?’ I asked, wishing he didn’t, so I’d spend more time than necessary to find change for him.

But he responded, 'Yeah I do,’ and pulled out some euros from his pocket.

My face fell, but I didn’t let him see it. We silently walked to the door. He suddenly stopped and turned towards me.

'Last night you said I didn’t care about you,’ he said, his eyes heavy with grief. 'You were wrong, Y/N. I do care about you. So much, that it scares me. I really wish there was another way. I spent so many days trying to think of ways I could save this relationship. But I came up with nothing,’ he swallowed. 'Every possibility led to your life being in danger.’

I paused, and mulled over his confession. I was struck by his words. He still cares about me. Then why didn’t he act like it?

'The way you acted, one would think otherwise.’ I whispered. Perhaps he was lying to make me feel better.

'You still don’t get it, do you?’ He shook his head. 'Do you know why I came here? Because out of all the people that I know in this world, I feel the safest with you. Not Natasha, nor Bucky nor Sam, whom I’ve known longer, but you. Everyone I know is either hiding something from me, or is trying to hurt me. But you…god, I can never really relax unless I’m alone with you,’ his hands cupped my cheek. 'That’s why I fell in love with you, Y/N. I have never stopped loving you. And I tried so hard last night to not fall for you again. I cannot even imagin-’ Steve could speak no further because I was kissing him with the greatest passion.

He responded immediately, and his fingers clutched around the back of my neck. Our lips moved in perfect synchronization, the air around us charged with passion. I placed a hand on his stubble, and worked my way up to his brown locks. I tugged at them, and I felt his kiss deepen even further. His hands left my neck, but they roamed all over my body, making me feel hotter inside with every new place he touched. His fingers trailed down to my waist, and I gasped as he suddenly pushed me against the door. He took the opportunity to move his tongue into my mouth. A moan emerged from the back of my throat. Heat pooled between my legs and my muscles clenched deliciously as I hungrily devoured his mouth. My hand crept inside his shirt, and I took my time feeling every muscle on his chest. It must have affected him quite a bit, because he was pinning me harder, and coming more closer, which seemed impossible because our bodies were already pressed so tightly. I pulled out of the kiss to regain my breath. I was panting, and he was too. I swallowed. 'I love you too, Steve,’ I whispered. 'I never stopped loving you either.’

Steve pressed his lips on mine once again, but this time it was sweet and sensual. He interlocked his hand with mine, and gently pinned it on the door. The kiss deepened once again. My other free hand travelled to his neck, and I immediately found his sweet spot. I caressed it with my thumb, and he broke away from the kiss just to say 'Fuck, Y/N’. His hot breath fanned my cheeks. I was still panting, and I gasped when I felt his mouth on my neck. He pressed hot wet kisses down my neck. I moaned loudly as his lips found my sweet spot. 'Steve,’ I breathed. He bit my ear lobe, and I clutched his shirt tighter. The heat between my legs became irresistable. I wished to tear his shirt apart, and close the little proximity we had between us, to feel his skin against mine.

His kisses turned south, and he left a trail of hot kisses on my collarbone.

I momentarily opened my eyes, when I noticed the family frame lying near the couch. My pinky finger seemed sensitive of the ring around it.

The words ’pain would be lesser’ ’detach yourself from him’ and 'make wise choices’ flashed in front of my mind. This jolted me out of my reverie. No, I cannot. I cannot do this, I cannot sleep with him, I can’t. It’d be harder to get over him. But the pleasure would be worth it, I thought. No, I scolded myself. Getting over him was the hardest thing I had to do. I cannot let this happen to me again. I am not ready to get hurt again. 'Steve, wait’ I panted. His kisses didn’t stop, but they faltered. He must be wondering if I had actually said that. 'Steve,’ I clutched his shoulders, and he broke away from the kiss. I looked at him.

'I’m sorry, I-I can’t to do this,’ I said with great difficulty because my body was screaming for his touch.  'I can’t go any further than this. I’m so sorry, so sorry’ I mumbled against his lips, my hand slowly dropping down from his biceps.

'I understand,’ he whispered. He dropped my hand from his, and he stepped back. My body suddenly felt cold. It begged for his touch again, his chest against mine, his fingers interlocked with mine, and his lips back on mine.

I clenched my teeth, trying to hold back the tears. I looked down at my feet, trying to escape his eyes. 'I’ll go now,’ he said, and placed a last  kiss on my temple. His fingers briefly touched my cheeks again, but they dropped, the touch now just an evanescence.

'Bye, Y/N,’ he said. I didn’t dare look up again. I moved aside to let him walk out the door for the last time. The door shut behind me, and the tears streamed down my face again. It was for my own good, I chanted to myself as I dropped down on the couch, my head in my hands. I sniffled.

I never really did get over him, did I? I thought to myself. I failed at getting over him seven months ago. I guess this time won’t be any different.

I detached my face from my palms and dabbed away the tears. I looked down at the couch and saw the blood from last night. I thought of him sitting there yesterday, looking so strikingly beautiful even in his simple clothes.

Then I abruptly realized he was wearing the white shirt when he went away. The white shirt, the only thing I had of him with me, now gone forever. My breath hitched in my throat, and I felt my heart crush. It felt like someone had stolen a part of me.

Pain will always be lesser if you detach yourself from him, my dear child. If you want to forget someone, throw away everything that reminds you of them, the words buzzed in my ears. I ignored my grandfather’s advice seven months ago and still kept that white shirt with me.

Now it was gone. He took away the shirt with him, the last remaining possession that reminded me of him and our memories. It always comforted me in a way, but was always a reminder of my loss and pain.

Atleast getting over him will be easier now, I thought miserably, feeling cold and dismal. I curled up on the couch alone, and a fresh batch of tears rolled down my cheeks.

[berkmansimagines]

seven

A/N: This was inspired by the Taylor Swift song. I’ve been listening to folklore way too much. Anyways, nobody asked for this and I wrote it for me.

Summary: After you threaten a mean girl at school, Barry realizes that you inherited some his anger.

tw: mentions abuse and bullying

You anxiously pace around Barry’s parked car outside of school, waiting for him to finish talking to your guidance counselor. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you can feel your nails dig into the palms of your hands. That usually helps cool you down when you get upset, but it’s not working now. You’re so angry and your body is still reeling from everything that just happened.

You were in the locker room after gym class when the school’s mean girl, Tori, made a crack about you growing up in foster care. Then something inside of you just kind of snapped. You shoved Tori into a locker as hard as you could and you threatened to kill her. Before Tori could fight back, your gym teacher broke it up. You were sent to the guidance office and got suspended for three days. Barry was called to pick you up.

You don’t remember the last time you were that mad or lost control so violently. You didn’t have an easy past and deep down you’re still pretty raw about it. Growing up you never really knew how to control your anger. You used to scream ferociously and get into fights with other kids from school or foster care. As you got older, you became better at controlling that anger. Until today-

“Y/n!” 

You see your father approaching. He looks concerned and disappointed.

“Hey dad,” you avoid eye contact.

“What happened, kid? It’s fine to get mad, but hitting somebody? That’s not you,” Barry shakes his head.

“You don’t really know me,” you say quietly, nervously shifting your weight onto one foot.

“Don’t let someone lower you to that kind of behavior. Okay? You’re bigger than that,” he tries.

“Dad, you are the last person on the planet that should be lecturing me about anger and violence,” you coldly reply.

Barry sighs. He knows you’re right. He’s played out this dad pep talk scenario in his head countless times and it always worked. But this is reality and you’re not naive. It’s going to be a much more difficult conversation.

Your father pulls the car keys out of his pocket. He doesn’t want to continue talking about this in public. As Barry unlocks the car, he notices you straightening your posture. The mean girl, Tori, and her parents walk by. You cross your arms and give your bully a cold stare down. 

The look on your face unsettles Barry. You have your father’s eyes and that was never more apparent than right now. They were so wide they looked like they could pop out of your head. He’s never seen you look so angry or serious. It’s the same face Barry has when he’s about to do a hit.

“C’mon get in the car, y/n,” your father quickly opens the driver’s side door.

You follow his lead. You get in the car and throw your bag in the backseat. While putting on your seatbelt, you notice a manilla folder in Barry’s hand.

“What is that?” you ask.

“It’s your old file from social services. Your guidance counselor gave me a copy,” he explains.

Your heart sinks into your chest. You had a copy kept away in your room but you never really shared it with Barry. There were some things in that file that you didn’t want him to see. And, for the most part, your dad has respected your privacy. The one time Barry looked through the file, he tracked down one of your old foster parents. You had to find a new hiding place for the file after that.

“What!? Why would she do that?” 

“Because she knows more about you than I do,” Barry tells you, and then his voice drops, “She told me about the first abusive home you were pulled out of when you were seven. Did you really hide in the closet?” 

Your eyes widen and your face turns white. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.

“That house was haunted…” you quietly stutter, “You… you weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“I have the right to know what happened to my own kid,” he says coolly. 

When your guidance counselor told Barry that story, he was quietly seething. He’s now anxious to read the rest of your file, determined to find out everything. What else have you been hiding from him? The thought of someone hurting you makes his blood boil.

“Did she say anything else?” you cross your arms protectively against your chest and look down at your lap.

Barry senses how uneasy you are. He takes a deep breath and calms himself down. His facial expression softens.

“No,” Barry shakes his head, “She just made me the copy so I could read it myself. I’d prefer to hear it from you though.”

Your father puts his hand on your shoulder and gives you an encouraging smile. You look up at Barry and meet his eye. He’s really making an effort trying to be supportive. You’re reluctant.

“Dad, I hate talking about that stuff. Especially with you. I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

“I won’t! I promise,” your father tells you.

“Yeah you will,” you sigh.

“Y/n, none of it was your fault. You were placed in shitty foster homes-”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” you interrupt, “I mean like I was in some bad homes, but there’s other stuff too.”

Barry raises his eyebrows, concerned. Then he takes another deep breath and quietly nods.

“I promise I won’t look at you differently,” he repeats.

You shrug and uncross your arms. You start digging your fingernails into the palms of your hands again.

“Earlier you said that getting into fights wasn’t me… you were wrong. Growing up, I wasn’t good at controlling my emotions. I used to get so mad and lose my temper… and sometimes I got violent. Like I would get so angry at someone that I couldn’t think straight, I just wanted to hurt them. That’s how I felt today. I thought I was getting better at controlling the anger, but I was wrong. It’s like I have this darkness inside and it really scares me. When I get mad, I don’t like who I become.”

Barry gives you an empathetic look. Your father understands more than anyone. He’s struggling with the same demons as you. His anger often leads to violence. In his line of work it’s seen as a positive, but having that type of rage terrifies Barry. Now he fears that he passed his anger down to you.

Barry has no idea what to say in this moment. He doesn’t know how to fix it or make it better, he’s still trying to figure all that stuff out too. 

“Dad…”

You unclench your fists and show him the palms of your hands. There are little bloody cuts where you dug your nails in. Barry’s jaw drops. 

“Who did this to you?” he asks in a low, serious tone.

“I did,” you feel tears well up in your eyes, “I think something is wrong with me.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, quietly muttering to himself. 

Barry takes your hands and examines them closely, before gently closing them together. He kisses your forehead.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. You got mad and lost your cool. Everyone has that moment… I know I have. It doesn’t make you a bad person… it means you’re human.”

Your father isn’t just trying to comfort you, he’s also trying to reassure himself. He’s done some terrible things but he’s not a bad guy. Barry pulls you into a big hug. You hug him back and cry into his shoulder. You didn’t realize how much you actually needed to hear that. 

“Thanks, dad,” you breathe.

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn, kid.”

“Love you too.”

You pull away from Barry and wipe away the tears on your cheeks. Opening up to your father about your anger felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. Before you had always kept those feelings bottled up and let them consume you until it reached a breaking point. You don’t want to do that anymore. It was better talking about your feelings than acting on them.

“I’m sorry I kept my file from you for so long. I should’ve told you about this stuff sooner. I just...”

“I know,” Barry nods.

He looks down at the manilla folder. When Barry first got the file, he couldn’t wait to get home and read it. But now he’s not so sure. What if he gets angry and is tempted to go after someone who hurt you? He doesn’t want to lose control, especially after everything you just told him. You have more than just your father’s eyes, you’re fighting the same inner struggles that he is. And its Barry’s job, as your father, to set the right example on how to control those emotions.

“What do we do now?” you ask.

Neither of you know what else there’s left to say. The conversation is far from over, but it’s done for now. You both still needed to deal with your anger and had a lot of work to do. At least you started a dialogue, an important first step.

Barry gives you a small smile, the same one he always does. He isn’t looking at you differently, just like he promised. No matter what he would always love and be proud of you.

“Let’s go home.”

[adenei]

The Mix Tape Mishap

6th year, AU; Hermione is home for Christmas holidays and uses [modern] muggle music to cope with the heartbreak she continues to suffer from her falling out with Ron and his current relationship with Lavender. What will happen when the mixed CD she made for herself ends up in Ron's hands on Christmas morning?

This is still set in the normal time period (1996), but I've taken the creative liberty to pretend that the albums I've referenced were also released during that year (adding to the AU label), instead of when they were actually produced (which is anywhere between 10-20 years later).

This is the first chapter. Chapter 2 is up on AO3 and FFN

Hermione was studying in the library a couple nights before the Christmas holidays. She found herself in the library more often than not to avoid the snogfest production given by Ron and Lavender in the common room each night, and the subsequent wrenching of her heart that she still couldn’t seem to shake. She’d tried so hard to forget him, to move on, and to give up on any chance of reconciling their friendship, let alone something more.

Instead of accomplishing any homework, she’d shifted her focus to her Christmas gift checklist. Her mum had written to her this morning to let Hermione know she had gotten the muggle items she’d requested for gifts. Hermione knew Ginny was into wizard rock, and thought she’d like some muggle music, so that was the theme of her gift this year. Hermione’s mum had picked up the newest Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco CDs for Ginny, along with a Sony Walkman player, batteries and headphones for Ginny to experience it with. Of course, Hermione had assumed she’d be at the Burrow for Christmas so she could help Ginny with the muggle technology, but that wouldn’t be happening now that she and Ron weren’t speaking. Ginny did tell her she was still welcome at the Burrow, but Hermione couldn’t stomach the thought of being in the same house as Ron while not speaking to him. Ron had made his decision clear when he’d chosen Lavender over her.

“There you are!” Hermione heard a familiar voice and saw Ginny approaching the table. She quickly hid the list as Ginny sat down. “You can’t honestly tell me you still have work to do? We leave for hols in two days!”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t revise,” said Hermione, unwilling to give away the real reason she was there.

“Have you thought anymore about still coming to the Burrow?” Ginny asked.

“Ginny, you know I wouldn’t be welcome there by Ron. It would be too awkward. I just...not this year, okay?” Hermione said.

Ginny could tell how hurt Hermione was by the whole Lavender fiasco, and knew that she was partly to blame. She hadn’t told Hermione what happened after quidditch practice that night, but was still trying to make up for the guilt she felt at seeing how hurt her best friend was. “Okay, maybe not for Christmas, but why not for New Years? We can hide out in my room if you want and not have to worry about seeing my git of a brother. I’ll even see if Fred and George can smuggle me the good champagne and we can get good and pissed and forget about boys!”

Hermione eyed her and wondered why she was being so pushy on the subject. She wondered if something was wrong with her relationship with Dean. “Maybe that might work,” she indulged her. “Why do you want me to visit so badly anyways?”

“It’s way more fun when you’re around. When it’s just Harry and Ron they shut me out and I’m always so bored! That or mum sticks me with even more chores because I don’t seem ‘busy,’” Ginny air quoted the last word.

Hermione laughed, “Alright, if it means that much to you, I’ll ask when I get home. Just- just don’t tell anyone, except for your mum of course. I wouldn’t want to show up unannounced, but I absolutely do not want the boys to know.”

“My lips are sealed,” Ginny promised, making a mental note not to blow it this time.

* * *

The following Monday found Hermione in her bedroom, reading and relaxing while her parents were at work for the day. Christmas was still two days away, but her shopping was done, and she was putting off the wrapping. Mrs. Granger had surprised Hermione with a new walkman and CDs of her own when she got home on Saturday, so she was spending a lot of her time listening to those instead.

Hermione had forgotten how much she enjoyed listening to music, and the albums her mum had picked up had been perfect for helping her cope with everything she was going through with Ron. She’d received the newest Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran albums (1989 and X), which had been playing on repeat. Always one to pay attention to the words, Hermione had found the lyrics to be overly relatable to her current heartbroken situation.

She wasn’t sure what led her to pull out the pen and paper at her desk, but as she listened through each album she wrote down the title of each song and a few lines that resonated with her. Writing it down and listening to those songs on repeat were bringing her more comfort than she’d felt over the past six weeks.

Attempt #36 to get over him

I’m a Mess “I can’t work it out. How? Goin’ through the motions, goin’ through us I’ve known it for the longest time, and all my hope, All my words are all over..”

Photograph “I keep this love in a photograph We make these memories for ourselves..”

Tenerife Sea “You’ve got the kind of look in your eyes That says nobody knows anything but us…” “All that you are is all that I’ll ever need”

All You Had To Do Was Stay “Had me in the palm of your hand Why’d you have to go and lock me out When I let you in”

I Wish You Would “Wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore”

Wildest Dreams “Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down “He’s so tall and handsome as hell..”

How you Get the Girl “I want you for worse or for better I would wait forever and ever”

This Love “Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees”

I know Places “And you know for me, it’s always been you”

There, Hermione thought to herself, that was oddly satisfying. Who knew listening to music and writing the lyrics could make me feel better? Hermione walked over to the new computer her parents had purchased while she was at Hogwarts. She followed the steps her dad had shown her to turn it on and open up the music player. He’d shown Hermione how to upload music and burn a CD with some of the music she thought Harry might like from Ginny’s CDs. Even though she’d already gotten Harry a gift, Hermione wanted to take advantage of sharing the music with him, too. She knew both Harry and Ginny had the same taste in music, and just in case Ginny didn’t want to share her CDs, he could have a mixed version of his own, and Hermione could let him borrow her Walkman.

Hermione set out to upload all four of her new CDs, and made two separate playlists, one labelled ‘Harry - Christmas 1996’ and the other labeled ‘RW Bad Blood.’ She thought that was clever even though she wasn’t even including the song on her mix. She took two blank CDs and figured out how to make the new copies with her playlists. She labelled the blank envelopes, and placed the CDs in the appropriate slots once finished. Hermione also slid the paper she’d written on earlier in the ‘Bad Blood’ envelope. She’d hide it in her desk drawer later.

She walked back to her room and used magic to put the cellophane wrapping back on the CDs for Ginny. Hermione was sure Ginny wouldn’t have minded her opening them to share the music with Harry, but she still wanted them to look new and unopened for her. Thank goodness for being of age, Hermione thought to herself. Hermione went on to wrap Ginny’s present in the magical wrapping paper, including a note saying she’d see her on New Year’s Eve. She also added the request for her to give Harry the envelope with his name on it. As she set the presents with the other magically wrapped presents to be delivered Christmas morning at the Burrow, she heard her parents call to her. Hermione left everything on the pile, including the mix she’d made to help her cope with losing Ron...

[katnissgirlsmakedo]

how do you think the cobra kai characters feel about taylor swift

first of all thank you for validating me <3 secondly I’m sorry but this is about to be a long ass post

okay. so sam and aisha both definitely grew up listening to taylor swift (obviously amanda and daniel are swifties i mean this goes without saying), so aisha probably loves her older albums for nostalgia reasons but sam becomes a complete 1989 stan when it comes out. sam has 100% listened to how you get the girl on repeat for 2 hours, and she’s valid for that <3 (also daniel and amanda have 100% done karaoke to love story)

i think miguel would LOVE taylor, my king has the range to stan guns n roses AND taylor swift! after the breakup with sam he plays red on repeat and his mom starts to worry that he’s heard holy ground TOO many times. unclear when cobra kai takes place but if it’s 2020 and folklore is out, miguel has a moment of realization/transcendence while hearing betty for the first time <3 also he plays reputation while him and johnny are first setting up the dojo and johnny had no idea who she was until that day. also he will never admit it but he likes bad blood

robby probably never listened to any of her music until he started training with daniel and becoming friends with sam, but once he starts getting into it, he gets INTO it, he cried listening to soon you’ll get better but if you asked him what his favorite taylor song was he’d probably say all too well 

tory has the vibes of a teenage girl who thinks hating taylor swift is a personality trait, even though she’s never even listened to her music. at some point while she’s with miguel he plays some of it but it’s like cornelia street or last kiss so she doesn’t realize at first that it’s taylor swift and she likes it. eventually she listens to reputation and her life is changed forever <3 and because she’s secretly a romantic, her favorite song would be king of my heart

i know that chris and mitch are minor characters but i’m just gonna say that chris belives speak now is the greatest album of all time, and mitch used to agree with him until he got really in it with cobra kai and now he thinks her music is for (insert whatever homophobic slur kreese would use here)

demetri has “country music hater” vibes so he wouldn’t listen to her until she started doing mainstream pop (you can’t tell me shake it off wasn’t his ANTHEM), but then he definitely goes to see her on the 1989 tour. and because eli was, for lack of a better term, kind of demetri’s bitch, he’d like her music too, and they 100% went to that concert together. but once he joins cobra kai he goes insane and stops listening to her. he is also the one who made mitch stop listening to her. he is also the one who used the aforementioned homophobic slur. but dw he would never call a girl a slur he’s not actually homophobic he’s just really repressed and doesn’t know how to handle his emotions <3 also when demetri hears cardigan for the first time he cries