#whether he ever actually loved her or just the notion he had of her in his head

[rehide]

just barely started my reread but. i think one of simultaneously both the most interesting and devastating aspects of rize, whose entire character is about her stolen autonomy, is that we never really get to know her outside of other characters perceptions of her. we know her through kaneki's brief meeting with her and his once hallucinated version of her, through furuta's idealized memories of her in the garden and the twisted perception he has of her now, through tsukiyamas run-ins with her, briefly through shachi's ideas he got of her as she was growing up, but we still rarely get to hear from her. and despite this, she's still overwhelmingly present in the narrative, though more as a concept than anything. we do briefly get that scene in re where she talks to kaneki about the garden, but it still cycles back around to what he has to accomplish going forward. a lot of the information we know about her comes from the people fighting so hard to control her and take the autonomy her entire arc is about in the first place. just something i've been thinking about. how we know rize is so overwhelmingly present in the narrative but the people who she's tried to escape from her entire life are primarily who we've learnt about her from.

[bun3333s]

Yandere MBTI Scaramouche

Cruel Aware Manipulative Strict

note: Using the structure from the wonderful @ddarker-dreams !! Scara is my baby girl and I adore him… so I hope I did him justice. I’m super new to actually writing anything like this, so any feedback or comments are appreciated <3 Note that these headcanons are in regards to pre-Wanderer Scaramouche, quote and image from 'The “Divine Will' story teaser. Mild spoilers for his backstory.

1.2k words

contains: yandere, mental/physical/emotional abuse, kidnapping/confinement, gn reader insert (”you” pronouns used), murder and violence (non-graphic), angst (?)

“My chest will never again be defiled by worldly filth”

Cruel vs Reverent

> He’s akin to a mistreated stray cat, but in that same vein, I do think that inwardly he’s much more fond of you than he’ll ever let show. This really depends on what phase of his life you meet in, and under what circumstances. If you met before the proverbial shit hit the fan, he’s much more likely to hold you with tenderness, near and dear to his heart. Especially with a kind darling, I could see him falling into the reverent category. Inwardly, of course. He would sooner die than let you know about these mushy feelings he has (even if he keeps you on a leash beside him at all times, and anyone with eyes could see that something is happening between you two). Regardless of whether you meet in his ‘softer’ era or not, there’s still a 100% chance he’s going to be a snarky, cold, degrading bastard.

> We all know this man has abandonment issues pro max, and his attitude is part of the way he’s coped. At the core of this, I imagine he holds an incredibly deep-rooted sense of insecurity. From Ei throwing him out for not meeting her standards, to the perceived rejection and betrayal from seemingly everyone else he cared for — to him, he must blame himself. He’s the common denominator. Had he simply never loved these people, he wouldn’t have had to go through all that pain when they left him.

> Then, comes along you. And I just know this man is seething — you’re ruining his way of life with the way your eyes twinkle in the sun and the warmth that floods his chest at your smile. He’s considered going to a professional about that, trying to find any way to avoid the inevitable. Surely that radiant feeling in his chest is what normal people call a fever, right? The electricity running through his veins burning hotter than normal? By the time he realizes his feelings for darling, he’s absolutely pissed. This would just be another point of weakness. More than anything though, he’s mad at himself. He’s mad because he’s been debased to such primal desires, because he’s scared to go through the agony of loss yet again. He’s terrified at the notion of depending on someone else. He swore to never be weak like that again, and that isn’t changing any time soon.

> But at the same time, it doesn’t matter how much he despises you (or rather, the way you make him see himself) because you make this bleak world so much more bearable. The scramble for power is exhausting in and of itself. To go through countless years of pain, experiments, and labor on your own, knowing that developing an attachment to anyone could be tantamount to failure? Excruciating. He has so little left to hold onto in the world, so when you come along, he sinks his claws in so deep it’s as if he’s trying to become one with you. As if your union will wash his sins away and you, his lifeline to heaven. Or maybe simply to a life where he can love again.

> He doesn’t know love without pain, and frankly, he’s not sure which is worse at this point. He’s so afraid you’ll see in him what everyone else did and leave — hold his heart in both hands to shatter — that he’ll never let you get that close in the first place. Scara is even more snappy with his darling than with others; the instinct to bite and scratch and claw at anyone getting too close to him. This, of course, conflicts with a similarly intense desire to hold you, praise you; worship at your altar for giving his life meaning.

> Basically he’s a tsundere but way more sadistic and with a lot of issues. He will verbally abuse you almost every time his mouth opens, and being his darling is tantamount to enrolling in psychological warfare. Absolutely would not shy away from physical punishment either. Definitely has a thing for seeing his marks on you. The fury, self-betrayal, frustration and grief — all of it gets redirected to the unfortunate object of his affections instead.

Aware vs Delusional

> Now, he isn’t some monster without feelings or something like that. He’s just a monster with very repressed feelings. I can imagine Scara actually feeling some remorse, you would just never be able to tell with the glee he possesses when torturing you.

> This goes back to how his cruel treatment is a manifestation of his insecurity again (doesn’t everything about this man?). After a particularly harsh punishment, or maybe just when passively observing your pathetic state, a pang of sorrow hits his chest. He thinks it might be time to look into a new body for himself. One that isn’t quite as… inconvenient. There’s somewhere deep down, hidden in a crack after a particularly brutal battle, where he thinks that he deserves this. He doesn’t deserve to have you; to hold you freely. Yet, he needs you more than anything else. It’s selfish, cruel, pitiful — every negative adjective you could pull from a dictionary. Scara is far past the point of caring much for morality, but it’s you he’s hurting, so it’s only fair that he hurts in silence alongside his beloved. There’s a strange understanding between the two of you. About hurt and love. About pretending to be asleep when he cards lithe fingers through your hair at night, ignoring the soft sounds of something wet hitting the pillows every so often.

> At the end of the day, he knows what he’s doing is wrong. Do you think he doesn’t catch your disdain? The hopeful glances out of windows? Don’t take him for a fool. He’s just a man in love without the luxury of loving. Scara has a multitude of issues, but perhaps unluckily for darling, awareness isn’t one of them. Sometimes you think it might be easier to live if you never saw that twinkle of pity in his eyes, back before you learned to falsify your slumber when he returned in the dead of night. Other times, you hope that twinkle sparks something in his mechanical body and burns this all to ashes.

Manipulative vs Honest

> This is probably the one where Scara isn’t entirely at one end or the other. In terms of emotional manipulation, he’s honest with you for the most part… the issue is that for the rest of the time, he’ll just refuse to answer.

> “why am I here?” “because I want you here.”

> “what do you want from me?” “to stay here.”

> He gets points for being straightforward but loses all of them when he showcases the emotional maturity of a grumpy toddler.

> The lack of emotional maturity and his own raging internal battlefield of emotions is part of the reason why I find it difficult to see him as some sort of manipulator — I’m not entirely sure our little guy has the facilities for that long-term. The bigger reason I struggle to see him as an emotional manipulator is because he’s suffered so much from it. He does, however, omit a large amount of information from darling.

> Now… physical/financial manipulation, threats and violence — these are all on the table. Scara knows he isn’t exactly the epitome of kindness or desirability to you, so how does he capture his darling? Through the previously mentioned means of course!

> Do you have a family or loved ones? Better pray he uses his Fatui connections to only bankrupt instead of massacring them. There isn’t any low Scara wouldn’t stoop to in order to have you in his grasp. He’ll pay off all your family’s debt if you come with him - or better yet - he’ll let them live to see another day! So how about it?

> It doesn’t really matter how you answer, because at the end of the day, he can always resort to brute force.

Strict vs Lenient

> If the abandonment issues didn’t give it away already, this man is neurotic about you — what you do, where you are, where you look, the way you look. It feels as if you aren’t in his line of sight he thinks you’ll disappear. His grip on you is always a bit too firm. Scara holds you like the moment he lets go he’ll wake up and remember that you left too.

> His unrelenting chastising and ‘reminders’ (read: abuse) serve not only to assert total control over you but to reassure himself as well. After all, you can’t leave him if he has total control over your everything.

> He doubts he can truly be your everything like you are to him, so this suffices as a close second. If he can find a way to own everything you do and everything that makes you, you then that can be good enough. It has to be. He can be your everything still; just in a different way.

aHHhh thanks for reading !!! hope you enjoyed <3

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVIII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself, and... idk, I didn't mean to put anything warning worthy here, but if you think of something I guess let me know. <3

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII

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

The days that followed after Satoru told you he liked you, it seemed that everything had gone back to normal and you two were slowly falling back into your usual routine: meeting up early in the mornings, bantering in between classes and missions, and eating lunch with Shoko when all of you were at the school. It was comforting to have things return to how they used to be, or that was what you thought.

“What’s up with him?” Shoko asked across from you.

Satoru had business to attend so he had just left you and Shoko at the table in the cafeteria.

“What do you mean?” you looked in the direction he had gone but could no longer see him.

From your perspective, Satoru had not changed much since that day he walked through the school holding your hand; he had not pressed the subject of whether you liked him back still any further either, and since he appeared to be okay in this grey zone where you two were sitting, you had not brought it up either. However, Shoko, as perceptive as ever, had noticed how Gojo, who always seemed to like your personal space, was moving into it almost permanently these days; how he was not even bothering to be discreet with the way he looked at you or remained by your side when you were in the same room, and how, if he was not careful, it would be evident to everyone pretty soon.

At first, Shoko had believed it was all in her head; since that day, years ago, when she first considered that Gojo could have some kind of crush on you, the notion had prevailed. In fact, she had thought she was looking into her friends’ relationship too much, maybe because none of them seem to pay any mind to how they were perceived, so it was not entirely impossible her eyes were just making her believe what she had accepted as true for so long was finally materializing.

Gojo’s laid-back attitude had been one of the reasons why Shoko doubted he cared seriously about whatever feelings he could have for you. Other than that rocky season in high school and a few other occurrences through the years that followed, Satoru had never taken any steps towards an actual relationship with you. Hence, Shoko thought it's a harmless crush.

But as of lately, he looked more... intent. Or maybe...

He’s losing his grip.

“You’ve never found him annoying, have you?” Your friend looked at her almost empty plate and it somehow reminded you of a similar talk you had had months ago.

“A bunch of times, but I guess I don’t find him too annoying,” you answered.

“Isn’t that all love is about?” Ieiri’s eyes connected with yours.

Her comment caught you off guard, and she might have noticed the way your smile froze because her gaze did not leave yours.

You did the only thing that could think of: laugh it off. “Yeah, I guess, if love is annoying, that is.”

Are you finally annoyed by it, Gojo?

“You tell me.” Shoko smiled and put the last bite of her food in her mouth.

***

“Why won’t she just admit she likes him?” Satoru asked while looking at the movie playing in front of him.

Maybe it was a rhetorical question, but you did not look at him before replying “Because there would have been no movie if they were that direct.”

It was a Friday night and Satoru had made an impromptu proposal to you to have a movie marathon at his place. You had accepted but now, into your first movie of the night, you were having trouble to stay focused on the story, which was supposed to be some sort of romantic comedy, not half as bad as many, but the romantic scenes were making you self-conscious.

You watched the scene where the protagonists had gone from arguing to making out and you felt the need to look somewhere else.

From the corner of your eye, Satoru seemed unimpressed.

He’s unfazed, of course he is.

Actually, Satoru was only calm on the surface. Unbeknownst to you, he had also perceived the change in the air between the two of you when the more intimate scenes started playing. He thought he should have chosen a different film, but suggesting changing it now would only make the unsaid more obvious, so he was sticking it up with the most unexpressive face he could manage as the actors on the screen seemed to melt into each other.

Satoru had not meant anything suggestive by choosing that movie; he had just played the first thing he found as he always did when you had not planned in advance, and under normal circumstances, that would have been fine. You had watched all kinds of films together, including romantic ones, the good and the bad ones, but now…

Satoru was already looking at you when you were about to steal another glance in his direction.

His gaze revealed a question he dared not ask, or rather, a question he had promised himself he would not ask until you were ready.

He was trying to be a good friend, even if he wanted to be more than that. It had taken him a while to figure out his feelings, so he had resolved to give you as much time as you needed. Yes, Satoru was convinced he could wait patiently, but…

Is he leaning forward?

At times… His resolve weakened.

“[name]…”

The look he was giving you was that of a kid who wanted to ask for something but did not know how. In his clear eyes, there was need but also fear of being denied.

What is your answer? his eyes were asking.

The winter had also frozen time in your friendship, in this safe spot in Satoru’s place, where you could still be friends and pretend nothing needed to change as it never changed in the years before, not in his apartment nor in your friendship. But time must go on, does it not?

“Satoru...”

His phone rang.

Both of you looked at the phone that was screen-down on the coffee table in front of you, and it seemed to take Satoru a couple of seconds to decide if he wanted to pick it up, but he finally did.

“I’ll be right back.” You got up and went to the kitchen.

Giving him some privacy to take the call was an excuse; part of you just wanted to escape of it all, ask Satoru to take it back, let everything remain as it was, stay in the known, but the other part, the part that had been falling for him all this time wanted to see it through.

Are you in love with him?

For a second, you were back in your living room with Haruki, his question and your answer resonating in your head as you watched the cup of tea travel steady from the table to his lips.

“Some people think knowledge that doesn’t change behavior is worthless,” his eyes did not meet yours, and you did not reply immediately.

“If you knew he liked you, would you act on it?” He had almost finished his cup.

"I don't know," you replied.

Months ago, you had been convinced you wanted to act on your feelings, but now, the idea of change was scary, the idea of trying to later find out it was not what you wanted, was scarier; the idea that you and Satoru would never recover if that happened, was terrifying.

“To change something, you first need to accept the possibility of change, and of course you need to know that those possibilities exist. I guess in that way, that knowledge is not worthless, even if nothing actually comes out of it. We should accept the possibilities.”

His feelings were sudden but if there is a possibility...

“Okay, I can accept that,” you said lowly to yourself.

“You can accept what?” Satoru was looking at you and taking the sodas you had just mindlessly pulled from the fridge from your hands.

The room felt a few degrees warmer with his proximity.

“Nothing, I was just...” Your gaze drifted to the door leading to a small terrace where Satoru had installed a couple chairs to sit on when the weather was nice. He almost never did it though, and you could use some fresh air. “Do you want to go outside?”

A smile played on Satoru’s lips. “Isn’t it cold?”

“Just for a bit.”

That was how you and he ended up outside looking at the city lights. You looked up but it was impossible to see the stars. Satoru mirrored your gesture and then directed his gaze back to the city.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked.

“Regret what?”

He shrugged. “Staying here, doing what we do, not going somewhere quieter or… somewhere where you could see the stars.” He looked up again and you kept your gaze on him.

Why was he asking that now you did not know, but you answered him honestly.

“I do not regret it.” It was true. Even when you did have the opportunity to do something else or be somewhere else, you chose not to leave. “This is pretty too.”

The lights of a city that never seem to sleep were probably not as fascinating and mystical as the stars that burned millions of light years away, but they had some beauty of their own.

“I guess so,” Satoru agreed, and he wrapped an arm around you, and after some silence he spoke again.

“Aren't you cold?”

You nodded your head. “But can we stay here a little longer?”

And maybe what you really wanted to ask was can we stay like this a little longer?

In any case, Satoru would have given you the same response as he held you tighter.

“Of course.”

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

Note: I'll try to proofread... Oh, and sorry about basically disappearing. Thank you a bunch for the kind messages during my silence. <3

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XIX

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[jinkookspencil]

til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything.  “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship -  you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

[mendeshoney]

you know my weakness is you (act two)

author's note: um...hello? is this thing on? sorry i've been away and that it took me a literal year and a few days to post part two to this story. also i meant to post this eariler but i am at home visiting family so i didn't realize this was not queued to post in est until literally right now. i appreciate everyone's love and patience in the meantime and hope you enjoy!

as a reminder - this character is a WOC and is plus sized bc...well, that's what I know as a person and it's kinda time I start actually trying to write like it. so let's just pretend there's a world where POC plus sized hockey wags can exist, mkay? i'm also manipulating some of the other wags of the team, so, that is also happening.

tags/warnings in no particular order: 18+, angst, enemies to lovers, miscommunication, unintentional secrets, insecurity, original female character, WOC character, consensual unprotected sex

word count: ~14,125

(read act one here)

When Mat sleeps, he dreams of Summer.

Mat dreams of her, craves her, wants nothing more than to have and to hold her.

He dreams of the words his captain spoke to him almost a week ago.

I’m telling you not to take this risk. This whole ‘I hate you but now I like you’ risk. And especially not with Summer.

She can’t go through that again.

And whether you want to admit it or not, there’s something between the two of you, and if it goes wrong, it’s going to be really, really bad.

If you’re not serious about her, leave her alone.

He thinks back through all of the horrible things he’d ever said to her, how even though he knew in his heart he was miles ahead of her shitty ex, he still wasn’t the type of person to deserve her, but dammit, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to try.

Mat knows that he seriously wants Summer. Wants her desperately, has wanted her since the moment they met even though she pushed him away. And he’d wanted just one chance to prove to her that he’d make it worth her while, and he got more than enough.

Except now, it seemed his captain was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

After Mat had slept with Summer and Anders had given Mat his words of warning, the captain backed it up after practice a couple of days later, making it very clear to Mat how he felt about the idea.

“I can see in your eyes you’re not hearing what I said, so I’ll repeat it. Stay away from Summer.”

Mat had blinked at Anders, completely shocked and also thankful they were having this discussion away from the rest of the team.

“What?”

“Stay away, Mat.” Anders repeated, more serious and almost angry. “It’s not that I don’t like you, and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good person. But you cannot be with Summer. At all.”

Mat bit back his snarky response, instead choosing his words carefully. “Is this about Sabrina?”

Anders shook his head. “This isn’t about Sabrina. This is about Summer.”

“What, are you in love with her or something?”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Anders’ nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes at Mat, jabbing a finger into Mat’s chest.

“Listen, Mat. I’ve known Summer since she was sixteen, she’s been my little sister in every sense of the word just as much as she’s been Sabrina’s, and I’ve seen her go through way too much and put up with way too much to allow you to come in just because she’s suddenly single and you’ve suddenly got the notion that you can do better than her ex boyfriend. I’m telling you right now, based on what I’ve seen? How your dynamic works? You can’t. And I don’t want you dating her.”

“That’s not up to you.” Mat said, moving Anders’ hand away. “That’s Summer’s choice. If she wants to be with me, she can be.”

“Then make it her choice not to be with you.” His captain responded, and it was exactly the ultimatum it sounded like. 

“And how do you propose I do that?” Mat bit back sarcastically. 

“You’ve been bickering since you met, and you’ve not done a single thing for her that shows that you care about her, or that you like her. Just because you slept with her once doesn’t mean you’re in love and need to be in a relationship. That’s not how it works.”

Mat scoffed. “Why are you speaking to me like I’m a kid?” 

“Because you’re acting like one.” Anders spat. “You’re acting like a child who thinks he’s in love after one time.”

“What if I’ve loved her the whole time?” Mat countered, completely serious.

Anders didn’t even blink, just laughed and shook his head. “Love? You’re joking, right? None of what you have is love, Mat. It’s not, it never has been, and it never will be. I’m telling you right now, before you take it any further, before it gets too deep. Stay. Away.”

Before Mat could respond, could tell Anders to either go fuck himself or try to plead his case, his captain walked away, and Mat knew in his gut he meant every word.

But…it already is too deep.

And he’s about to disobey his captain.

~

Despite her better judgment, Summer finds herself smiling when she walks into the small cafe shop, seeing Mat tucked into a table in the corner with her favorite iced coffee and favorite breakfast plate already ordered and sitting in front of him alongside his own order.

He’d texted her this morning, almost a week since they’d last seen one another, suggesting that they meet up to talk about what had happened in her room at Sabrina’s house.

When he’d given her the best two orgasms she’d ever had in her life, then asked her not to run, admitted to her that he liked her.

Mat Barzal.

Liked her. 

The thought made her both giddy and confused at the same time, admittedly completely unfamiliar with the rush of butterflies she’d been feeling everytime she found herself thinking about Mat, or reading a text from him.

They hadn’t seen each other since that time in her bedroom, Mat being too busy with pre-season training and practice, and Summer didn’t completely mind it. She had work as well, and was still helping Sabrina and Anders out with their wedding planning. 

Even so, seeing him after a week almost felt like she hadn’t seen him in months, and Summer knew in her heart that was probably something she should pay attention to a little more.

The butterflies, the anticipation, the giddiness - it was all quite a bit considering their history, but there was a part of it that just kind of…made sense?

Sabrina had teased her the night before when she’d been over to help her finalize the floral arrangement details. “It’s like when mom used to tell us that the boys who picked on us only did it because they liked us.”

Summer had laughed a little, and Anders, who had been sitting with them to finalize the boutonniere designs for the men’s tuxedos, had scoffed. “They’re not kids though, babe.”

Anders had seemed…apprehensive, to say the least, about her and Mat, but when Summer had asked him about it, Anders had just said “I’m not worried,” so she left it at that. Whatever it meant.

The closer she got to the table where Mat was sitting though, the more all of her concerns and worries faded away. 

Mat looks up as she approaches, pocketing his phone and giving Summer a wide smile. He stands to greet her, his hands cupping her face and offering her sweet kisses, murmuring how he thinks she looks pretty today in between each peck.

She’s sure she’s blushing beneath the bronze of her skin, and the smile she gives him in return is probably showing just how happy she feels at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No need to be sorry princess,” he says. “You’re right on time.”

Summer smiles, taking her seat across from him and taking a sip of her coffee.

Mat watches her with a smile on his face, laying his hand out on the table, palm up. She raises a brow, but puts her hand in his anyway, waiting.

“We should probably talk about all this, shouldn’t we?” He says.

Summer shrugs, “If you want to.”

“I just want to know that you want this, too.” Mat offers, playing with the rings decorating her fingers. “We don’t have to talk, because as far as I’m concerned, if we both want this, then there’s nothing to talk about.”

She assesses Mat quietly as she takes in his words, thinking about the dynamics of their relationship.

“I think we maybe owe it to each other to at least clear the air, don’t you?” 

He nods, thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently. “I’ll start. I never hated you, not even a little bit. You got on my nerves a little, but I never hated you. I think I just acted that way because I thought you hated me first.”

Summer blinks a little, not expecting that right away. “I didn’t hate you, Mat.”

“It kind of felt like it.” He admits, but his eyes are playful, letting Summer know he’s not upset by it.

She thinks back to the day they met. His curious gaze as it ran over her body, how back then she couldn’t handle scrutiny like that from anyone, good or bad, because she could only ever see it as bad. 

A man like Mat looking at a plus size woman of color like Summer didn’t exactly always spell out happy endings.

She’d let her insecurities get the better of her then, let it push them both into something that maybe neither of them wanted. 

But still, they’d gotten here in the end, didn’t they?

“I think I just…I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She admits. “I never hated you either, I think I just felt…unsure.”

“Of me?” 

“Maybe you, maybe myself. I don’t know.” She says.

“Well now that it’s established that we don’t hate each other, and that you know that I like you, how do you feel?”

Butterflies.

Anticipation.

Giddiness.

Like a teenager in love for the first time.

Summer ignores all of that and shrugs playfully. “I suppose I might like you, too.”

The kilowatt smile that breaks out on Mat’s face is one Summer is probably going to remember for the rest of her life. He’s looking at her like she just hung the sun, moon, and the stars in the galaxy, crafting the heavens and given it to him.

“I can work with that.” He says, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it gently. “I’ll be happy to work with that.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, and as they dig into their breakfast, she can’t help but feel like she should’ve made this decision a lot sooner.

~

Mat wakes up to Summer cuddled against his side, and he quickly silences his alarm, wishing for nothing more than the opportunity to lay in bed with her for the rest of the day - the rest of time at this point.

Carefully, he untangles himself from her, making sure she’s sound asleep and tucked back in while he heads to the bathroom to start getting ready for training and practice. Once he’s brushed his teeth, he heads out and into the kitchen, going about making himself breakfast and getting food ready for Summer for when she wakes up later.

He checks his phone, spotting a text from Anders in the team group chat reminding everyone of the start time today at the facility. 

Mat tries not to get pissed off before the day even starts.

Anders has been nothing but a pain in his ass since he and Summer started seeing one another, almost as if he knows Mat never had any intention of listening to him and knows that Summer’s been in his bed nearly every night since that conversation.

Whatever. Mat doesn’t give a shit.

He’s not a kid, Anders isn’t his dad, and he’s not Summer’s keeper. He and Summer can do whatever they want, and if Anders wants to throw his weight around as captain Mat can handle it, but he’s not giving Summer up.

Once he’s about ready to go, he heads back into his bedroom to grab a hoodie and his gym bag, surprised to find that Summer’s awake, laying on her side, putting her phone down and greeting him with a soft smile when he steps inside. 

Mat’s heart literally nearly leaps from his chest to lay at her side.

Her curly hair rests on the pillow beneath her like a gentle halo, full breasts pushing at the fabric of Mat’s shirt she wore to bed. His shirt’s risen up a little and is showing a glimpse of the skin of her stomach, the blankets pooled a little bit above her waist.

She beckons Mat to her playfully, and he goes easily, climbing onto the bed and kissing her without a second to waste, slightly surprised by the minty taste of her mouth.

“You've been up long?” He murmurs to her, and she shakes her head.

“Maybe about ten minutes or so?” She says. “I thought you’d already left, so I was getting ready to go see Sabrina.”

“More wedding stuff today?” He asks, bending his head and pushing her hair over her shoulder so he can leave soft kisses on her neck.

She nods, letting out content sounds as his lips move. “Yeah, figuring out the seating chart for Anders’ side.”

Mat pauses at that, and pulls back, staring at Summer curiously. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Anders voicing his recent distaste for Mat to her, but still.

“Has he been different towards you? You know, since we…” His voice trails off.

Summer shakes her head. “Not really? He seemed apprehensive about it, but he hasn’t been different. Why? Has he said something to you?”

Mat hesitates, unsure of what and how much to tell Summer.

“He’s…not exactly happy about the two of us at the minute.” Mat begins, but as he speaks, he can see the fire in Summer’s eyes begin to build. Since he’s all too familiar with where that might lead, he immediately backtracks, making the decision to not tell her the whole truth. “It’s fine, just…maybe don’t talk about us in front of or around him for now, okay?”

“Don’t?” Summer asks, and at the fact that Mat can see the fire dissipate for a little, he nods, still careful with his words. 

“Not that I want to keep us a secret, or anything like that, I just don’t want him to say something to you about it, or have him get upset at you. He’s just trying to be a good brother in law, is all, I’m sure. Just let me handle it, okay?”

Summer nods, smiling sweetly. “Okay, I won’t say anything, I promise.”

Mat smiles, kissing her again, not complaining when Summer turns the kiss a little dirty, running her tongue against his lips gently. He pulls away again, quickly checking the time on his phone and smirking when he sees he’s got about fifteen minutes before he absolutely has to leave.

He really only needs five.

When he looks back at her, he’s got a cheshire grin on his face that Summer’s eyes twinkle at. 

“Are you still in the same state you went to bed in?” He asks. 

Summer smiles, nodding. Mat immediately rips the covers off of her, exposing her bare lower half, and Mat’s cock throbs at the memory.

Last night, after they’d showered and gotten ready for bed, Mat had cuddled up against her, wrapped her in his arms and tried very hard to not focus on how soft she felt against him, about how good it felt to have her there, how warm her body was.

She’d rested her leg on his waist, propping herself open, and Mat had dipped his fingers under the blanket to play with her, his sanity completely disappearing when he felt how wet she was for him. He’d torn her underwear off her not long after, fucking her slow and gentle until she shook in his embrace, his name falling from her lips in satisfaction.

Now, he shuffles himself down the bed till he’s nestled between her beautiful thighs, and Summer looks down at him curiously.

“Thought you had to leave for practice?”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” he says. “Plus, this is way more important than practice.”

Summer starts to protest, maybe to say something smart back to him, but whatever her response was going to be dies on her lips the second Mat’s mouth latches onto her skin.

~

Summer feels like she’s practically skipping as she heads into Sabrina’s house, bouncing off the balls of her feet in happiness. 

After Mat had managed to coax about three orgasms out of her just with his mouth and fingers before leaving for practice this morning, she felt like she could just about do anything. Especially with the way he speaks to her the whole time.

She’d enjoyed bickering with him before all of this, but it wasn’t until she reflected on the first two times they’d fooled around that she realized Mat loves dirty talk, and that he’s particularly good at it. 

The second she enters Sabrina’s house though, she shoves those thoughts aside and tries to tone down the happiness, especially with Sabrina staring at Summer like she’s got three heads.

“What are you so chipper about this morning?” Sabrina asks, eyeing her over the rim of her mug as she sips her coffee.

“Nothing,” Summer dismisses all too quickly.

“Mhm,” Sabrina says, raising a brow. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain winger, would it?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” She responds, resting her purse on the counter and going about making a cup of coffee for herself.

“How are you two doing?”

“We’re fine,” Summer says. “Happy.”

“That’s good,” Sabrina says genuinely. “I’m glad. Anders will be happy to know you haven’t killed each other.”

At that, Summer remembers Mat’s words from this morning, and turns to her sister with a slightly serious expression. “Could you maybe…not tell him?”

Sabrina blinks at Summer. “Why?”

“I just…I know how protective he is, and I don’t think he’s a fan of the idea. I just don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot. Could you maybe just…keep it to yourself? About Mat and I?”

“You want me to keep it from my husband that my little sister and his star winger are dating?”

Summer sighs. “Please, Sabi? Just this once, I am asking you not to tell your husband every little thing about your life and mine.”

Sabrina eyes her warily, but agrees. “Alright. But is this because Mat doesn’t want anyone to know you’re dating? Or something else?”

“It’s like I said, Anders is protective, he’s not a fan, and the season’s about to start. I don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot.”

Summer can see that there’s something in Sabrina’s eyes that makes her want to push this more, to understand, but thankfully, she drops it. 

Truthfully, she’s not sure where Anders’ apprehension is coming from, or why, but it’s clear he and Mat are at odds about it, and Summer trusts Mat enough to handle it, and enjoy their time together in the meantime.

~

After practice, as Mat is walking out to his car, he hears Anders’ call his name. Internally, he groans, not wanting to deal with his bullshit right now, but he knows it’s better to just get this over with now so he doesn’t have to put up with it for the rest of the season.

He turns, his face completely deadpan as Anders approaches.

“Did you think about what I said?” Anders asks.

Mat rolls his eyes. “Yeah, been thinking about it non-stop.”

Anders doesn’t look amused. “I wasn’t joking, Mat. I meant it.”

Mat feels the instinct to ball his fists, but he refrains.

He doesn’t care that this is his friend and captain, and doesn't care how long Anders has known Summer. Anders doesn’t get to just rock up and tell Mat who he can and can’t have feelings for. 

Whatever Mat and Summer’s relationship was like in the past is theirs to work through, and if Anders doesn’t like it, then fine.

He doesn’t need to fucking know.

“I’m aware.” Mat says. “I took care of it.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “Took care of what?”

“We’re not together.” Mat says, the lie slipping easily through his teeth. “We’re not dating, not seeing each other, not falling in love, just like you asked. Your precious sister in law is perfectly fine high in her tower.”

Anders stares at him, probably gauging to see if he’s telling the truth, but Mat’s expression doesn’t falter. After a few moments, Anders visibly relaxes. “You two fought again, didn’t you?”

Mat scoffs. “Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t. That’s not the point. The point is you got what you wanted.”

“It’s for the best, Mat.” Anders insists, reaching out to rest a “captainly” hand on Mat’s shoulder, but Mat steps away, shaking his head.

“Whatever. See you tomorrow.”

Mat gets in his car, pulling out of the team lot and heading home, a smug feeling settling in his chest that Anders has no idea Summer will most definitely be waiting for him when he gets there.

~

“You got a little something on your face, Princess” Mat says, “Riiight…here,” and leaning in, he drops his spoon into his bowl of ice cream, grabs Summer’s face between his hands, and peppers kisses all over her face, working from one corner of her mouth to the other.

Summer giggles wildly beneath his lips, eyes shut tight as she tries to hold onto her own bowl and spoon under the assault of Mat’s kisses. 

She felt like her laugh lines were getting deeper and deeper with each passing day she spent with Mat, wrapped up in his embrace or under the constant receiving end of his affection and attention. It had been a little over a month of this now, this work in progress relationship. 

From what she knew, things between Anders and Mat were still a bit tense, but Mat reassured her that things were fine. It was just Anders finding it difficult to have a teammate date a family member, Mat had explained to her, and that he just needed time to come to terms with it. Summer could understand, so to be safe, and to make it easier on everyone, she continued to avoid speaking about Mat around Anders, and even shared a little less with Sabrina, just in case.

Knowing Sabrina, it only took a couple of glasses of wine for her to spill the beans, so it was better to say less than say more.

There had been a couple of times that they’d all been at Anders and Sabrina’s house, Summer there for wedding things and Mat there for team things, when they’d sneak off and fool around for a little bit with no one being the wiser, but Summer found it more fun than anything.

They’d just gotten back from a dinner date a little bit ago, Mat making them ice cream sundaes to have for dessert before bed after Summer admitted she had a small craving.

Once he finishes his onslaught of kisses, Mat reaches for the canister of whipped cream, spraying a little more onto her bowl and his own before digging back in. 

The TV’s playing a movie on Netflix, and when he turns his attention back to the screen, it brings Summer’s eyes to the time on his DVR box.

“Don’t forget we have dinner tomorrow night at Sabrina and Anders’ house.”

Mat groans. “Their pre-wedding late engagement party thing, right?”

Summer hums in confirmation, taking another bite of her ice cream. “Yeah. They didn’t throw one when they first got engaged since they were in Marbella, so they’re having it now while some of Anders’ family is in town for the home opener.”

“Speaking of the home opener,” Mat says, then puts his bowl down, walking off to his room before coming back, an Islanders Pro Shop bag in his hand. He hands it to Summer, who eyes it warily.

“Is this what I think it is?” She asks.

Mat shrugs, grabbing his bowl and digging back in. “What do you think it is?”

“An Islanders branded dildo?”

Mat chokes in surprise as Summer laughs, enjoying how easy it is to make him flustered.

She turns the bag upside down and is only mildly surprised when the jersey falls into her lap, the bright blue and orange and white staring at her like a neon sign.

“Would you prefer that I wear this?” She asks. “Are you going to ask me to only wear this once we get back home?”

Mat laughs, shaking his head as he puts his finally empty bowl to the side. “You wear whatever you want, baby, however you want to wear it.”

Summer smiles at him, then pauses. “Wearing this to the game probably wouldn’t be a good idea, what with Anders and all.”

Mat frowns. He’d clearly forgotten about that part, but shrugs. He reaches over, playing with the hem of Summer’s dress where it rests against her thigh. “Then I suppose you will have to wear it once we get home.” 

Summer smirks as Mat moves and wraps a hand around her ankle, maneuvering her until she’s laying with her back on the floor, watching him through curious eyes.

“And what else would you propose I wear?” She asks, watching as Mat removes her underwear and then reaches for the whipped cream canister, squirting out a dollop onto her clit.

“Nothing, if we’re being honest.” He says, rearranging himself to lay between her legs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess, it’s a little rude to talk with my mouth full.”

Summer’s giggles dissipate into moans as Mat’s tongue licks away the whipped cream, the fabric of his jersey gripped tightly between her fingers as he enjoys his second dessert.

~

Mat leans back against the sofa in Sabrina and Anders’ living room, a little bit of tension leaving his shoulders now that Anders’ family has left and it’s just a few guys from the team, some of Sabrina’s friends, and Summer left behind. 

Everyone’s settled into the living room to wind down and chat a little before they all head home, and Mat watches as Anders’ has to keep a hand on Sabrina’s waist while she sits down. Summer told him that she’d had three glasses of wine because of how nervous she still got around Anders’ family, but it hardly affected her throughout the night. Now though, it seemed that since his family was gone, the anxiety and nerves were also gone, and the wine was catching up to her pretty quickly.

Summer was the last to make her way into the living room, and after a quick scan, found the only open seat left was next to Mat on the sofa. He was aware of Anders’ stare the entire time Summer made her way over, only breaking away once Summer sat down and Sabrina said something to him.

Mat barely listened to the conversation going on around him, too aware of the fact that Anders was watching them both like a hawk and that he was trying his best to behave. 

At one point, Summer must have started to feel exhausted, because he could hear the way her breathing began to even out, and then, her head gently landed on his shoulder. Tito saw it as well from his spot, and smiled at Mat.

That drew Sabrina’s attention, and she cooed, reaching out to gently wake Summer.

“Been a long day hasn’t it babes?” Sabrina asked, and Summer blinked the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, then recognizing she’s still leaning against Mat, she blushes, smiling shyly when she repeats “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, trying to seem flippant about it. “I don’t mind.”

“You two are such a cute couple.” Sabrina says through a laugh as she observes them, and the silence that follows is almost deafening.

“Who?” Tito asks stupidly. 

“Summer and Mat, obviously.” Sabrina says, and the second it’s out of her mouth, realization hits and her expression changes.

Damn wine.

“I mean-” Sabrina tries to backtrack, but it’s too late.

“Mathew, can I speak to you for a moment? Outside.” Anders says, his tone of voice making it clear that it’s not a request, but a demand. 

Anders heads out to the backyard, and Summer looks at Mat wearily. “Mat, you don’t-”

“No, it’s okay, Princess.” He promises, pressing a kiss to her temple and ignoring the apologetic look Sabrina tosses his way. He heads out after Anders without another word, walking up to where he’s waiting by the pool bar.

“What the fuck did you do?” Anders demands, pushing Mat the second he gets closer.

Mat finds restraint deep in his well of patience, deciding it would still not be a good idea to punch his captain in the face. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been seeing Summer? This whole time, you’ve been dating?”

“Maybe we have. What does it matter to you?” 

“I told you to stay away from her.” Anders spits, pointing a finger in Mat’s face. “I told you to stay away and you didn’t listen. And you somehow thought hiding this behind my back was a good idea?!”

“And I told you that you didn’t get to tell me who I did and didn’t get to have feelings for.” 

Anders laughs bitterly. “Oh so now it’s feelings? At the beginning of all this you said you were in love with her, and now it’s just feelings? Make up your mind, Mat.”

“I do have feelings for her! I do love her!”

“No you fucking don’t,” Anders spits. “You haven’t loved her a single day since you started sneaking around and lying about this relationship.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You made it very clear you didn’t want me around her and I made it very clear that that wasn’t your choice to make. So I did what you asked and let Summer make the choice for us both.”

“What is he talking about?”

Summer’s voice cuts through the night air like a knife to the gut, and Mat turns to find her staring at the both of them. 

She looks like an angel, hair blowing in the wind, the skirt of her dress flowing out beside her, the backyard lights casting a heavenly glow around her. 

But it’s her face that breaks Mat’s heart. Her face says she heard everything, and even though she’s standing right there, Mat can tell she’s already a million miles away from him. 

God dammit.

He couldn’t catch a fucking break today, could he?

“Summer,” Anders says, using his brotherly voice with her. “Go back inside.”

“No,” she says, and the tone of voice she’s using is one she’s only ever used against Mat when they used to be at odds. 

That used to feel like a lifetime ago, but Mat knows for sure that it’s probably coming back to him sooner than he’d like. 

“Summer-” Anders tries again, but Summer won’t hear it.

“No,” she repeats, taking a step closer to them. “You told him to stay away from me? Tried to stop him from dating me?”

“I was just trying to-” 

Summer holds up a hand, effectively silencing Anders, then turns to Mat. “And you. You said you wanted to keep quiet about us until you and Anders reached an understanding. But really, the whole time, you told him we weren’t seeing each other?”

“Summer, I can explain, I-”

“You said you didn’t want to keep us a secret.” She continues talking like Mat never said a single word. “But really, you just didn’t want to be the one keeping a secret. You wanted me to do it for you.”

The night air is suddenly heavy and silent, Anders and Mat staring at the ground in shame, nothing left to say. 

Summer scoffs bitterly. “Unbelievable.”

The click of her heels on the pavement has Mat’s head snapping up, his feet immediately moving when he sees she’s walking away. Anders is hot on their heels, following as Summer heads back into the house, noticing Sabrina and the others with their attention on Summer as she heads for her purse, then straight for the door.

“Summer?” Sabrina asks, concerned.

Summer says nothing, and Mat calls for her, but she keeps walking.

The three of them follow Summer out to the driveway, and Mat breaks into a sprint then, managing to get in front of her to block her path. 

“Princess please, just listen for a second-”

“Get out of my way, Mathew.” She says.

It’s the tone of voice that almost has him frozen in his spot. There’s no anger, no heat.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Princess, I-”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry, Summer, I’m so sorry. But you don’t understand, I just wanted us to-”

“It doesn’t matter.” She says, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now. Please move.”

Mat wants to do anything but that, but he knows he probably won’t get anywhere with her about it tonight, so he does as she asks, and steps aside. By the time Anders catches up to them, she’s in her car and backing out of the driveway.

Mat feels like she’s taking his heart with her.

~

Summer sighs, spinning in the mirror and pursuing her lips as she examines the fifth maid of honor gown Sabrina’s managed to coax her into in the last hour. 

They’re at the Vera Wang Bridal House on Fifth Avenue, where Alex, one of Sabrina’s oldest pageant friends and bridesmaids, works as the manager. She’s been diligently helping Sabrina and Summer find the right maid of honor dress with the wedding only a couple of weeks away, and also helping to talk Sabrina out of some of the more less than ideal options.

The dress Summer’s trying on now is in the exact shade of what Sabrina’s been calling “champagne rose gold,” that she picked as one of her wedding colors, a spaghetti strap gown that accentuates Summer’s curves and compliments her shape. 

But it still doesn’t feel…well, like something Summer would wear, at least not as the maid of honor to her sister’s wedding. 

“I don’t know, Sabi,” she mutters, examining the way the silk falls against her body. “I like it, but it could be better.”

She looks in the mirror towards her sister, the bride to be, watching as she frowns, cocking her head to the side. “You’re right. The Lou's nice on you but the color’s a little off.” Sabrina turns toward the rack of dresses, pointing at one of the racks and then turning to Alex, smiling sweetly when she asks “Can we see the Lourdes, the Joelle, the Evelyne, the Diane, and the Vaness?”

Summer blanches. “Not the Vaness.” 

Sabrina raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. “Why not?” 

“Sabi,” Summer deadpans. “The v-neck on that dress is deeper than the Mariana Trench. My boobs would be all over the place.”

“Your boobs would look amazing in it.” Sabi insists, turning to Alex. “Right?”

Summer sends Alex a pleading look over Sabrina’s head, and Alex smiles, shaking her head. “Your sister’s at least a 38D and the Vaness can barely hold a 36C. I’d say ax the Vaness, and if you want to see a v-neck option, we can look at the Vanetta and the Varun instead. They’re a little more stable.” 

Sabrina hums, then nods. “Alright, I’ll accept the alternative.” 

“Thank you,” Summer says with a grateful sigh, and Alex sends her a wink before pulling the six gowns off the rack and putting them in Summer’s dressing room before heading back out to join Sabrina.

When Summer shuts the dressing room door, she carefully takes off the gown she has on and puts it back on its hangar before reaching for the next one.

Just as she’s zipping up the Lourdes, her phone vibrates in her purse from where it's resting on the chair beside her. She ignores it, focusing on adjusting the sweetheart neckline and the tulle of the train of the down when it goes off again, and then again, and then again, before it starts to vibrate with the frequency of a phone call.

She assumes it’s their father, calling on behalf of their mother to pester Summer for details on the fitting since Sabrina probably won’t answer.

Sabrina and their mom had gone shopping for her ‘mother of the bride’ dress last week and Sabrina was not pleased after her mother insisted on needing three dresses - one for the ceremony, one for the cocktail hour, and one for the reception. Sabrina was still a little upset, and their dad had been playing the middle man ever since.

Fussing with the zipper with one hand, and reaching blindly in her purse for her phone with the other, Summer answers her phone without even looking, immediately saying “Tata, okay naman kami. You don’t have to keep calling, just tell mom I’ll send her a picture of my dress when I’m done. Lalo lang itong makakainis kay Sabrina.”

From outside her dressing room, she can hear Sabrina snort in agreement. 

There’s a small pause on the other line, and for a second Summer worries that she’d been on speakerphone and their mother was about to scream down the line, but then she hears someone clear their throat before they say “I uh…I’m not your dad, and I didn’t understand a lot of that.”

Summer blinks, her heart plummeting to her stomach. She lets go of the zipper of the dress that she’d finally managed to pull up, then slowly pulls her phone away from her ear. When the screen lights up, and the contact name “13” shows up on her phone, she gasps in part shock and part anger, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the hardwood floor of her dressing room.

She wasn’t expecting that.

He’d been silent these last couple of weeks, giving her space after everything that had happened, so him calling so suddenly was…strange. 

And Summer was definitely not prepared to speak to him today. Especially when she hadn’t sorted out how she felt and how she’d go about handling this ridiculous situation.

The noise alerts Alex and Sabrina, who Summer can hear scramble to their feet before they start knocking on the door. 

“Summer,” Sabrina calls. “Are you okay in there?”

“Do you need help?” Alex offers.

Summer takes a deep breath, trying to calm her sudden racing heart and staring at her phone in total offense. She can hear Mat going “Hello? Summer?” and prays Sabrina and Alex can’t hear him at all.

“I’m fine,” Summer croaks out. “Just dropped my phone.”

She quickly bends down, grabbing her phone and ending the call, turning off her phone, and tossing it back into her purse. Quickly, she looks in the mirror, adjusting the dress one final time and fixing her hair. 

There’s a slight flush to her cheeks, and she schools her facial expression, pointing at her reflection in the mirror as if to say “Get your shit together,” before squaring her shoulders and opening the door.

“What about this one?” Summer asks, pasting on her best “nothing to see here” smile. 

Sabrina and Alex exchange suspicious glances, and Summer promptly ignores them.

And also especially ignores the way her heart hasn’t stopped pounding in her chest since hearing Mat’s voice.

~

Mat looks down at his phone one more time, then back at Summer’s building. 

He hadn’t seen her since everything that had gone down at Sabrina and Anders’ place, and she’d been ignoring his texts and calls, save the one she definitely didn’t mean to answer the other day.

Part of him knows it’s because she’s probably upset at him and Anders for lying to her, but before, when she was upset, he was used to her arguing with him, with her still being around.

All this space and silence was new, and he didn’t like it at all.

As he approaches the front of her building, nerves start to creep in. 

What the fuck am I doing here?

The more he wondered, the more he was afraid, the more he thought about her. And the more he thought about her, the more she got under his skin, the more she invaded his dreams, the more he knew he couldn’t waste another second without seeing her, or feeling her one more time.

No matter how badly he may have fucked up. 

There’s a buzz, a loud one, that snaps him back into reality, and he’s surprised when “Come on up!” from Summer's cheery voice greets his ears.

He hears another buzz and the snick of the doors unlocking, so he rushes in without a second thought, taking the elevator to Summer’s floor. 

When he gets to her door, he knocks tentatively, noticing she’s got some door decoration hanging over her peephole, and Mat feels his gut churn irritably. 

“Coming!” Summer calls, and Mat’s heart suddenly starts to thunder in his chest. 

Hold the fuck up. Is she expecting someone?

Blood starts to boil in his veins.

She let me in without even knowing who I was.

He can hear her footsteps getting closer to the door.

Is she…is she going on a date?

The thought is irrational, he knows, but he can’t help but worry about it anyway.

There’s a distinct shattering sound that echoes in his ears. Before he even debates if he has the right to think that, let alone even think of asking it, the door opens and Mat’s eyes are graced with the stunning reality of Summer’s natural beauty.

She’s wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt that has him questioning if she’s even wearing pants, and her long beautiful curls are down, stray curls framing her face, and then those chocolate eyes are staring at him in disbelief and he just-

Fuck.

“Hi.” He breathes, heart in his stomach.

God damn she’s so fucking beautiful.

“Mat?” Summer asks, like she doesn’t believe what’s in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He begins. “I know it’s been a minute, but-”

“It’s been almost three weeks, actually,” Summer deadpans. “And now isn’t a good time.”

“Expecting someone else?” He all but interrogates, venom quickly seeping into his voice. It’s too easy with Summer, too easy to slip back into their little game, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

But apparently Summer doesn’t want to either. She gives no indication that she’s heard him, no obvious tell that his irritation is irritating her right back. Her full lips don’t move, remain stoic and perfect and plump and-

God does he want to kiss her.

“Yes, actually.” She tells him. “I have friends coming over, and-”

Mat goes to her before he can think about it. He’s moving into her space, backing her into her apartment and kicking her door shut behind him before he takes her in his arms, spinning them around to press her back into the door and then sinking his hands into her hair, pulling her head back, and kissing her like his life depends on it.

For a moment, time stands still when his lips meet hers. He feels like his universe was knocked off its axis without her, and being close to her again, it’s like everything falls back into place. 

All the tension, all the worry, all the “will she, won’t she,” it all falls away and disappears. 

The only thing that matters is Summer.

Relief instantly floods his veins when he feels her relax against him, when her hands land on his shoulders, and it dissipates just as quickly when she puts just enough pressure under her hands and pushes him away.

Mat backs up, hands dropping away from her altogether, even though his fingertips tingle with the need to reach for her, to bring her back.

Summer looks angry.

“No.” She says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

No no no no no he thinks. Panics.

“Summer, I-” He begins, watching her walk past him and moves further into her living room. 

“No, Mathew. You don’t do what you did and show up here and kiss me and expect me to just forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, I just meant to-”

“I know what you meant. But you still shouldn’t have done it.” Summer spits, all fire and brimstone. “You can’t come here and kiss me like I’m still your dirty little secret.”

“What?” He shakes his head, staring at Summer in disbelief. “You’re not my dirty little secret, Summer. That’s not what this was at all.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “Okay.”

“I wanted to tell you the truth,” he insists, swearing, “I just…I just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t tell me that Anders tried to enforce some stupid rule you didn’t need to listen to because you’re both grown men? Couldn’t tell me that he was being overprotective and that he told you you couldn’t be with me? Couldn’t tell me that you didn’t have the guts to tell him no to his face? What of any of that ‘couldn’t’ you do, Mat?”

Mat frowns. “He’s my captain, Summer.”

“What the fuck does that mean to me? He’s my brother in law. I could’ve handled him on my own, spoken to him and told him to back the fuck off, and Sabrina would’ve told him the same. Instead you made it sound like he knew the whole time but was just having trouble accepting it.”

“You’re right. I handled it terribly, and I’m sorry.”

She stares at him for a second, then nods. “Okay, I accept your apology, now get out.”

His stomach bottoms out. “What?”

“Just leave, Mat.” She says, shaking her head and pointing at her front door behind him. “Just leave.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what else to do, so he just nods, doing exactly as she asks.

~

Mat lets out a frustrated groan, dropping down to the ice to lay on his back, pain running through his bones as he shuts his eyes.

He can hear a teammate skating closer to where he lays, before feeling the blade of a stick poke him in the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isn’t that the fucking question of the day?

It had been a week since she’d kicked him out and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the look on her face out of his head, and he couldn’t escape the lingering tingle on his lips after kissing her after spending so much time away from her. 

The reality is that he had Summer, and then he didn’t. And though to everyone else it should seem like that’s normal, that they’ve always been at odds and don’t like each other, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Mat never hated Summer at all, and he never wanted to keep her a secret, but he thought that was his only option, the only way to go about finally being able to have her.

And he still ended up losing her anyway. 

“Nothing.” Mat mutters, keeping his eyes shut and trying to focus on the freezing surface beneath him, wiggling his toes in his skates.

“Looks like something.” He hears Tito mutter as he skates closer. “You’re skating like shit today.”

“Thanks for that babe.” Mat deadpans. “Appreciate it.”

“Did you get dumped or something?” Tito asks again.

Mat’s eyes fly open at that, and he lolls his head to the side to glare at him. “Not so fucking loud, dingus.”

“Well is it true or not?” His best friend presses. 

“I don’t even know if we were officially together in the first place.”

Across the ice, a loud voice echoes. “You’re not gonna be together in the future either if you don’t get your shit together.”

Mat finds himself shooting up into a sitting position, head spinning to look at his captain, who’s already looking at him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Anders’ mouth presses together in a firm line as he skates closer to Mat and Tito, and when he’s close enough, he jabs Mat in the leg with the blade of his stick. “It means you need to apologize, you idiot.” 

Mat just stares at him. “Thought you said you didn’t want me to be around her?”

“I said I didn’t want you to be around her if you weren’t serious about her. You moping around the locker room, skating like shit, acting like you just got divorced - that tells me that I was wrong about all of this, and that shit might be a little serious.”

Mat stays silent. He’s not exactly sure what to tell his captain at this point. A week ago it would’ve been “Fuck you very much,” but he’s pretty sure Anders is trying to…apologize?

He assesses him carefully, then it clicks. “Summer and Sabrina chewed you out, huh?”

Anders doesn’t look impressed. “I got what was coming to me. Looks like you did, too.” 

Well that he couldn’t deny. 

“I tried to apologize.” Mat admits. “She told me to take a hike.”

Anders scoffs. “Did you expect anything less? And since when do you back down from arguing with her?”

“Like you said, shit’s pretty serious. So…yeah. I backed down and I left when she told me to.”

Tito taps Mat in the leg with his skate gently. “You love her?”

Mat hesitates to answer, not because he’s not sure. He’s pretty sure he does, almost certain, but he’s never said it, not really shown it, and he isn’t sure if Anders is still after his head, so he stays quiet.

Anders sighs. “What do you feel for her, exactly?”

Mat can put it into words, but as he thinks about it, it might not be the best explanation.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with Summer since the day I met her, but she hated me on sight, so I pretended to hate her too. Except then I realized that she actually liked me, and now because I’ve been an idiot I think she actually hates me. And I still think I might be in love with her anyway.

…to be fair, that didn’t sound so bad.

Except, when Mat says those exact words out loud to Anders, silence falls around them, and he realizes several of their teammates, including Tito, were in hearing range, and now everyone’s staring at Mat like they’re waiting for him to disintegrate right in front of them.

“I uh…” Mat begins, falters for a second. “I just mean…”

“I know what you mean.” Anders says, nodding. “You should probably tell her all that yourself though, yeah? Preferably soon. Wedding’s next week, and Sabrina and I are going on our mini honeymoon during the Thanksgiving break, so…do with that what you will.”

Without another word, Anders skates away, and only after Mat casts a scathing look to the rest of his eavesdropping teammates do they follow suit, except for Tito.

Tito shakes his head, tapping Mat’s side with the blade of his stick. “Get your shit together,” he insists, before he skates away too.

Mat sighs, laying back on the ice and letting the cold settle into his bones. 

~

Sabrina and Anders had a beautiful wedding.

Truly, really, they did. 

Summer’s heart ached with happiness for her sister. 

It was everything Sabrina had wanted, everything she’d worked hard to plan, and through all the stress and breakdowns her older sister had, she was finally married and had the wedding of a lifetime to enjoy and look back on.

And since she and Anders had managed to resolve their issues, she was genuinely happy for him again, too. 

She had a feeling she’d find it hard to remain upset at both Mat and Anders, considering the more time she had to think about it, and remembered that men were in fact, stupid, thanks to Sabrina, she did understand both their perspectives. 

Anders had known her since she was sixteen and had seen her struggle with her self love, seen her date shitty people, and witnessed every second of her and Mat arguing like their lives depended on it. He was just looking out for her, wanting to protect her and make sure she didn’t go through something like that again, and especially not with someone Anders was friends and teammates with. He had to be around Mat on a frequent basis, and if it went bad between her and him, he would’ve had to tiptoe around them both awkwardly.

Except none of that was his to worry about, or even something Summer expected of him, which he understood now. 

The part that had Summer tripped up was the fact that Mat had explicitly said he didn’t want to keep Summer a secret, and how she’d understood, but he ended up keeping her a secret too, and she unknowingly helped him. 

Realistically, she did forgive Mat, but she also knows she should’ve been able to move on from it just as easily as she did with Anders. Maybe it was the fact that she expected more from Mat, considering how…intimate they were, but deep down she knew it was just her insecurities rearing their ugly head again.

Before it was the disbelief that he’d been looking at her in appreciation the first time they met, and now it was the uncertainty that he was only doing what he thought was the right thing to do at the moment. That he didn’t keep her a secret from anyone other than Anders and that he didn’t think she was enough to be shown off to the world.

Rationally, she knew it wasn’t anything, that she should be able to just move past it. But irrationally, Summer felt like it was still too good to be true.

Besides, they’d never actually said anything other than that they liked each other. It wasn’t like they’d fallen for one another. 

Okay…maybe that’s not entirely true. Summer knew she’d started to, especially the more time they spent together, the more they’d slowly gotten to know one another. 

But they never said anything to each other, so…

She’d managed to steer clear of him so far throughout the wedding, avoiding his gaze and purposely putting herself on the opposite side of the room. Right now, she was at the bar, waiting for the bartender to make her a margarita and watching where Sabrina and Anders were greeting their guests.

It was only when she realized after a moment that she didn’t see Mat anywhere that she had a feeling avoiding him wouldn’t be possible much longer.

“Do you think there’s more legs in the world? Or eyes?”

Despite the fact that she’d been expecting him, the absurd yet intriguing question has Summer turning her head to the right, and Mat stands there with a lopsided smile that spells mischief. 

Her heart collides into her ribcage in a painful throb. It’s been almost a month since she’s seen Mathew last. He looks just as good, is everything she remembers and desperately tries to forget in the same breath.

Before she can help herself, the corner of her mouth quirks up in a small smile, and she leans against the bar a little, shaking her head. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains, turning her attention back to the bar, grabbing her drink from the bartender with a polite “thank you,” and dropping a five dollar bill in the tip jar next to her elbow. 

As she starts to walk away, Summer can feel Mat fall into step with her, and even though she doesn't want for it to happen, her body stiffens, unease seeping into her bones at his proximity.

“I didn’t know if you’d show up to the reception or not.” He confesses, the charm slipping away from his tone.

She shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s my older sister’s wedding. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d do it to avoid me. Or if you finally decided that you hated me.”

His confession almost makes her falter in her steps. Almost.

“That’s a bit dramatic, considering I remember that I told you that I never hated you in the first place.” She practically bites out, quickening her steps a little.

“Could’ve fooled me. I mean I never saw you after you kicked me out.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“It felt like you were on another planet.”

This time she does stop in her tracks, turning to face him. “What do you expect me to say, Mat? I’m not exactly happy about what happened. I know you apologized, and I get it, I just…I need time to come to terms with it, okay?”

Summer can see Sabrina approaching over his shoulder, and she shakes her head slightly, letting Sabrina know that she can handle this. Thankfully, she nods, and moves to make conversation with another table of her guests. 

Mat looks at Summer then, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Tell me what I can do to help then. What do I have to do to make this right? Tell me how to fix this.”

She shakes her head, taking a step back. “You can’t,” she says, already retreating. “You just can’t.”

His eyes burn into her back as she leaves, and heads back to her seat. She’s determined to stay out of Mat’s way and keep her eyes away from his for the rest of the night, no matter how much her heart twists in her chest.

~

Mat stuffs one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other one clutching the bouquet of roses as he crosses the street, approaching Summer’s building for the first time since she kicked him out.

He felt like a bit of a stalker, showing up to her place unannounced again, but he felt like he didn’t know what else to do. 

He’d tried asking Anders for advice, and the only thing his captain did was remind Mat that he and Sabrina were leaving on their mini honeymoon, and to take care of it before they got back.

So…this was him fixing it himself. Or trying to anyway. 

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to actually work up the courage to press the call button to her apartment building. This time, when he presses it, instead of Summer letting him up immediately, there’s a small pause, before her soft voice comes through the speaker.

“Mat?”

He pauses, waving awkwardly at the little camera. “Hi.”

Another pause, then he hears Summer sigh. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Probably not, no.” Mat answers honestly, running a hand through his hair. 

There’s silence, and then the building door buzzes and Mat pauses for a second too long before heading through it, and up to Summer’s apartment. 

He only manages to knock once before the door flies open and reveals Summer standing there in jeans, a white tank top, and a black cardigan over it, her feet in fuzzy socks and even fuzzier house slippers. 

Still, she looks so fucking beautiful.

Summer has a look on her face that he can’t read, and that in itself scares the shit out of him. He’s experienced every single one of Summer’s emotions, been the target of a few of them too many times to count, but this one is…

Different.

“For you,” he forces himself to say, handing the roses out to her. “As an apology. Or, the start to one.”

Summer eyes the roses, and for a split second Mat thinks he can see the corner of her mouth quirk up in a little smile, but then it’s gone. She takes the roses from him hesitantly, cradling them in her arms and staring at them for a second.

Mat hovers in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

Summer clears her throat, deciding for the both of them. “Are you just going to loiter in my hallway, thirteen? Or do you want to come in?” 

The urge he used to instinctively have to roll his eyes is gone, and instead all he can do is nod, crossing over the threshold when she steps aside to let him in. 

He toes off his shoes by the door, following her inside. He waits while she puts the roses in a vase, looking at the art on her walls.

When she comes back, they sit on the couch, and Mat takes a small breath.

“Maybe I should go first this time,” Summer says suddenly. He nods, waiting patiently, and she sighs. 

“I want to start off by saying that I do forgive you, and that I do understand where you and Anders were coming from, no matter how ridiculous. I think the thing that's kept me upset is that I couldn't tell for myself whether or not you kept me a secret for you, or for Anders.”

“It was for Anders,” he swears. “I would never keep you a secret, Summer. I swear.”

“Okay,” she nods, accepting his answer. “Then with that being said, I don’t want to completely put you on the spot, but what exactly is this?”

“This?” Mat asks, confused.

“You and I,” Summer says. “What are we? Because I’m going to be honest, I’m not really sure.”

“Well, I would like to say you’re my girlfriend, but we didn’t really establish that.” He hesitates, gauging her reaction. “Would you…would you agree that we were dating?”

Summer nods. “Yeah, I thought we were. I thought you were my boyfriend.”

Mat really doesn’t like the past tense she’s using, but ignores it. “Is there anything that's stopping you from thinking that I still am?”

“I just don't know that I'm clear on how you feel, and I would prefer we lay our cards out on the table now.”

“Okay,” he says, turning his body towards her. “That first day that we met, I’d spotted you before I even realized who you were. You came inside with Sabrina, and I could see you from where I was in the kitchen. I was staring at you when you met me, admittedly for probably a long time, because from that very first second, I thought you were beautiful, and I wanted to get to know you.”

Mat can see Summer’s surprised by his admission, but he continues. “I’ve always liked you, and I’ve always been interested, but I was under the impression that you didn't like me, so I just followed your lead. I was jealous of your ex, I was jealous of that random dude from the club, and it was because this whole time I felt like I'd ruined my chances before I even had one. When you were finally single, and we slept together for the first time, it felt like I finally did have that chance, but then Anders stepped in and…well you know the rest.” 

Summer’s quiet for a second, observing him, and then she nods. “I knew who you were when we met, it was kind of hard not to. I thought you were cute and I was excited to meet you, but then when I caught you staring, I got insecure. I thought you were judging me, and that's why I shut you out and didn't let you in at first.” 

Mat’s heart shatters in his chest. 

How could you not see I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen? He wants to ask her, How could you not see you had me in the palm of your hands that very first day?

“I thought that there was no way that you would be interested in someone like me, so I put up a wall and thought it would be better to keep you at a distance. I didn't really intend for us to bicker for as long as we did.” Summer admits.

She takes a deep breath, fiddling with her own hands. “When I was with my ex, I was genuinely with him, and then when I wasn't, and you and I slept together, I was genuinely into you. I had a feeling that it might be complicated between you and Anders, and when you suggested not telling him anything at first, I understood, and I still understand, but I'm still having a hard time in my head trying to convince myself that you weren't trying to be malicious.” 

Mat moves to reassure her, but the soft smile she gives him stops him. “I know that you weren't, but like I said, that's for me to convince myself of and not you.”

“So…not that I have selective hearing, I’m just trying to get this right. Do you have feelings for me?” Summer laughs softly at his question, but nods, so he continues. “And I have feelings for you. And you forgive me for what happened?” 

Summer nods again, “I do.”

“Okay…then…” Mat trails off, unsure of how this is supposed to go. 

“Then?”

“Are we…okay?” He asks.

“We’re okay,” Summer says, nodding. There’s a moment where Mat’s relieved, where he feels like he can breathe again, but then she says “But I don’t know if we should get back together. Or…get together, however you want to put it.”

Mat’s heart thumps hard in his chest. “What?” 

“Not today. Not right now.” She says, a small shake in her head. “I think…don't you think we need to take a step back?” 

“What about a step at a time?” He offers. 

Summer blinks. “What?”

“You said we shouldn’t get back together today, and I can see your point. Not today. But maybe…maybe we can just take this a day at a time?”

“Mat…” Summer hesitates, completely unsure. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know. Not right now. That’s why we can take it a day at a time.”

She eyes him quietly, a million emotions flitting across her face as the seconds pass between the two of them. “What would you even do? Where would we even start?”

“Coffee.” Mat says immediately. “Just coffee. Nothing more, nothing less. Just let me buy you a coffee.”

Summer’s quiet, and for a second, Mat worries she’s going to say no, but then her shoulders relax, and she nods. “Okay, coffee sounds good.”

~

Three Months Later

“You just wanted me close to a knife when it was in your hand, didn’t you?”

Summer shakes her head with a small laugh, turning the knife around in her hand so she holds the blade between her fingers, placing the handle in Mat’s hand. He takes it, but the hesitancy is still in his gaze, so she idles up beside him, bumping his hip a little before focusing on the kitchen counter.

Mat had admitted that he hadn’t tried Filipino food before when Summer and Sabrina had gone to visit their parents in New Jersey, so she’d offered to cook for him only on the condition he helped out.

Their father, Sonny, had come from the Philippines as a child with their grandparents. Their mother, Shauna, who’d grown up in the Bronx, lost her parents by the time she’d married their dad, and so the girls had mostly grown up with the Maldonado family.

Their grandmother, Soledad - the “S” naming tradition in the family ran deep - had taught the girls how to cook staple dishes when they were young, so Summer could make this in her sleep.

She’d already gone through the meticulous and thorough process of showing Mat how to wash rice and correctly measure for the correct amount of water, and that was currently bubbling away in the rice cooker on her kitchen counter. 

Now, she was going to walk him through making the marinade for probably the easiest dish to introduce Mat to when it came to Filipino cuisine - chicken adobo.

“Okay, so I’m going to cut up the onion, but I need you to mince the garlic. We have eight cloves here, and you’re going to take a piece of garlic and put it under your blade,” she instructs, grabbing one of the extra cloves of garlic she’d put aside for practice, and moving it to her board. She places her blade right on top and waits until Mat’s done the same.

“Good, now don’t hesitate, just bring the meat of your fist, pinky side down, onto the back side of the blade, and smash the clove. Just be sure you’re holding the handle of the knife firmly, like this,” Summer says, then brings her hand down, listening to the blade and the satisfying crunch of the garlic clove beneath it.

Mat follows suit on his own clove, and of course, because he’s apparently good at everything, gets it right on the first try. He smiles shyly anyway, waiting for her confirmation, to which she smiles, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Perfect.”

Mat beams at the praise. “Really?”

“Yeah, so just do that to the other seven, and it’ll be easier to chop those up. Think you can handle it?”

He nods, reaching for another clove, and Summer tosses him the one on her board before grabbing the onion. 

They work in a silent tandem, and Summer chances a look at him to find his tongue peeking out from between his lips in concentration.

It makes her heart twinge with something she isn’t totally ready to come to terms with.

They’d been doing this…thing…taking it a day at a time, for the last few months. Mat had taken her out on countless dates, focusing on romancing her the way he would have had they not gotten off on the wrong foot. There had been some sex, not a lot, but whenever they did have sex, it was always intense, and Mat always made a point to reassure Summer every chance he got, in bed and out of it, that he thought she was beautiful, kind, and everything he ever wanted.

Outside of that, Mat had taken her to meet his parents and his sister, and even joined her on her bi-weekly Saturday visits to Anders and Sabrina’s home for family dinners. The captain and his winger were still working on repairing that whole mess, but it was getting better, for the most part. 

And now he was here. In her kitchen. Learning how to make her Lola’s chicken adobo. 

When she finished with the onion, she tossed everything into a pan with a little vegetable oil, placed it on the stove and fired up the burner. She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, then brought it over to Mat for him to dump in his minced garlic. 

“Pretty good there, thirteen.” She says before guiding him to the sink to wash and dry their hands. 

“Okay, now what do I do?” 

Summer smiles, pointing at the ingredients next to the stove. There’s shoyu, vinegar, brown sugar, black pepper, chicken stock, peppercorns, and bay leaves. “I need you to measure out the ingredients on the card by the bottles and put them in that little bowl next to it.”

“What? I’m on measuring duty?” He asks, wrinkling his nose with a frown.

Summer leans up and kisses his nose before backing away. “It’s because you’re meticulous, so I trust you.”

He blinks after her kiss, then nods, heading over to his new station with a little more pep in his step.

Summer stirs the onions around since they’ve already started to cook, then grabs the minced garlic and tosses it in before heading to the fridge. 

Her Lola’s recipe is usually meant as dinner for two, so she had six pieces of chicken thighs rinsed and pat dry set aside specifically for dinner tonight. Bringing the plate out of the fridge and over to the pan, she grabs a pair of tongs and places each piece skin side down once the onions and garlic get fragrant, allowing them to brown a bit. 

She double checks on Mat’s progress, only to find him already done, marinade measuring and poured in the bowl, and his eyes on Summer, watching her with a cheshire smile.

“Look at you,” she muses, going easily to him when he opens his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. “Hope you’re not too attached to your diet.” She teases. 

Mat scoffs. “As if.”

“You’re right,” Summer agrees, running her hands under his shirt and caressing the hard muscle of his abdomen. “You don’t really need it.”

She feels him flex under her fingers and she laughs, looking up to find him smirking down at her, the heat in his eyes evident. “Well I kinda need it, gotta stay in shape to keep up with you at night.”

As if to remind her, her body’s muscles choose that moment to remind her of their ache, and Summer flushes, pushing away from Mat to head back to her place on the stove. 

“Well,” she begins, flipping the chicken over. “I appreciate your dedication. Can you bring over the marinade?”

He nods, grabbing the bowl and carefully idling up beside her. 

“Okay, now you’re just gonna pour it over everything, but make sure you cover each piece of chicken when you go.” She watches as Mat follows her instruction, and once he’s done, she shakes the pan a little, lowers the temperature a smidge, then covers it with a lid.

“Now what?” He asks, looking around. She’d already washed and set the rice to cook in the rice cooker on her counter, but he didn’t see any additional food lying around.

“Well, we have to let it cook for about fifteen minutes, and then we add the finishing touches, and then we eat!”

She ushers him back toward the stove to wash their hands again. It was something she’d learned as a kid, washing her hands after every step in cooking, and she hoped Mat didn’t think it was weird or strange.

He didn’t seem to mind though, going easily along and washing and drying his hands beside her without complaint.

“So…we have fifteen minutes to ourselves?” He asks, setting up a timer on his phone. 

Summer raises a brow at him in suspicion. “Yes…why?”

Mat smirks, leaning with his hip against the sink when he reaches for Summer. “Cause I’ve been thinking about eating your pussy since this morning. Can I?”

He takes her in his arms before she can answer, and then he’s kissing her neck, hands wrapping around her waist and down to her ass, palming the flesh in his hands. She moans a little when his teeth nip at her neck, and she has to push him away to be able to back up and out of his space. “Mat, we shouldn’t, we-”

“Please baby,” he pleads, taking a step and crowding her back against the counter. “Just this once?” She feels his hands creep at the hem of her dress - the easiest thing to wear around him, especially when they tend to have moments like this - his fingers bunching it up to her stomach when he drops to his knees. 

Summer finds herself automatically grabbing the material between her fingers, nodding her head and lifting her hips away from the counter for Mat to pull her underwear down her legs. She doesn’t miss the smile that crosses his face when he runs the lace through his fingers, and stuffs the fabric in the pocket of his jeans.

“Jump up on the counter, baby.” He says, waiting for Summer to settle onto the counter before pulling her forward, her butt resting on the edge of the counter. Mat grabs one of her barstools from the other side and places it right in front of her before taking a seat, pressing “start” on the timer on his phone.

He feels like he could drool a little at the sight of her open and bare for him, the prettiest shade of pink shining at him like a neon sign saying “just for you.”

Not another second passes before he’s burying his face into her pussy, Summer letting out a blissful and content sigh as her body relaxes and Mat settles her feet on his shoulders, gently circling his hand around her ankles and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his head, to pull him in closer.

She doesn’t, not right away, anyway, too wrapped up in the feeling of Mat’s tongue. He squeezes her ankle once, trying to get her attention, and all Summer can manage is to loll her head to the side to peek at him. He rises up a little, speaking against her skin, not wanting to be too far from her.

“Wrap those beautiful legs around my head, baby.”

All she can manage is a nod, and Mat returns to his task, moaning when her warm thighs touch either side of his face, his shoulders under her knees and her beautiful calves resting on his back. He can feel when she locks her ankles behind him and he settles in closer, relaxing against her as his mouth continues to devour her pussy, her arousal dripping down his chin.

He feels her nails scratch against his scalp when her hands dive into his hair, fingers gripping his curls and lightly tugging. Mat knows those tugs by heart now, which one means to keep going, which ones mean to ease up, which ones mean she’s loving it and not to stop or she’ll kill him.

“Mat,” she whimpers, her thighs squeezing his head and he nods, bringing his hands up to squeeze her breasts, loving when her hands cover his, holding onto him. 

He says nothing, just focuses on keeping his pace and the way Summer’s body reacts to his mouth, beginning to feel her start to shake under him as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm.

Right when Mat thinks she’s going to grip his hair tighter, letting him know that she’s about to come, she suddenly sits up, pushing him back gently.

“Baby?” He asks, confused.

“Get up,” she says, and he’s up and off the stool in a second, approaching her carefully. He’s only a little surprised when she reaches for the waistband of his jeans, making quick work of the button and the zipper. By the time Mat’s brain catches up to him and finally understands what Summer wants, she’s got her hands in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down while Mat’s cock springs free.

He watches as her pupils blow out wide, and smirks a little. Gently, he places a finger under her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his face. He kisses her a couple of times while crowding into her space, resting his cock against her soaked pussy while she chases the taste of herself on his tongue. 

Mat grips her waist, pulling her a little further to the edge of the counter, gently moving his hips. 

“Needy girl,” he playfully chastises. “Won’t even let me finish eating that pretty pussy because you’re so desperate for cock.” 

Her eyes flash up at him, her playful spitfire in her eyes at his dirty talk. Mat’s found out that this is the kind of push and pull she prefers most, when he teases her or says dirty things and she can fight him back on it in a way that doesn’t cost them both. 

Mat can see that she wants to talk back, but she bites her lip to refrain herself. 

“Use your words pretty girl,” he says, grinding his cock against her. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please give me your cock,” Summer replies obediently. “I need it.”

Mat smiles, murmuring a soft “Good girl,” then he’s moving his hips back until the tip of his cock catches at her entrance and pushes in slowly, watching Summer’s face the whole time.

He loves this part, loves watching the way her whole body relaxes, watching the way her eyes flutter shut and her beautiful mouth parts just a little as her body welcomes him. He leans forward, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss as he bottoms out, waiting for her to adjust to him.

He’s learned he loves that part, too - how no matter how many times they’ve done this so far, she always seems to need a minute to adjust to him. But whenever she did, she took him so well that they could go at it over and over again till their muscles were sore.

While he waits for her to adjust, he takes a quick glance over at her stove, then at his phone, checking the time. Nothing’s burning, but he’s still only got about five or so minutes left.

Mat turns back to her, bending his head and burying his face into Summer’s neck, leaving filthy open mouthed kisses, speaking in between. 

“Are you okay if we make this quick? Since we are cooking and all.”

That seems to bring her back to reality just a little, because he can feel her nod, and then she’s locking her ankles behind his back again, pulling him in closer - her usual sign that she’s ready for whatever Mat gives her.

He carefully pulls back before pushing back in, setting a pace he knows is enough to bring Summer to orgasm in no time. Summer lays back on the counter, and Mat’s hands immediately go to her breasts, cupping them through the material before yanking it down, smirking to himself when he finds she’s not wearing a bra.

Mat leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth and drawing a soft whine from Summer’s lips. A whine that tells him that she’s definitely going to come in no time if he keeps it up.

He laps at her skin with his tongue, sucking at her skin as his hips piston in and out of her, moaning when he feels her squeeze down on him as her breath catches in her throat. Her back bends and he keeps his pace, his own orgasm quickly approaching as Summer comes around him, squeezing his cock in a vice grip and wrapping her legs tighter around his waist. 

He comes a few seconds later, buried deep inside and his mouth still latched to her, tongue soothing over the now bruised skin. 

His favorite part is this, the moment right after they fuck - how she seems so content to just lay there with him and let him hold her, let him stay inside her till he’s either ready to go again or ready to help clean her up or drag them both to the shower.

They catch their breath for a moment, Mat just staring down at her, admiring her beautiful curves, her full breasts, the curve of her belly. He traces his hands down her stomach, gently caressing her skin, rubbing at where he’s still buried inside her.

Her breath catches in her throat at the same time the timer goes off on his phone, and they both jump, Mat slipping out of her suddenly, and they both hiss at the loss.

“Well,” Summer says through a small sigh, “Looks like lunch is ready.”

Mat frowns. “But I already ate?”

Summer blinks at him, and when he smirks playfully, wagging his eyebrows, she rolls her eyes, slowly sitting up. “Funny, thirteen.”

He leans in for a kiss, and she softens, going lax in his embrace. Between kisses, Mat can feel his heart hammering in his rib cage, and he murmurs “I love you, Summer,” before he can stop himself.

She pauses for a second, lips frozen against his, and he backs up, gauging her reaction. She’s shocked, that much is obvious, and Mat can see the hesitation, so he leans in, kisses the tip of her nose, then her cheeks.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, “I can wait as long as you need me to. I just wanted to make sure I laid all my cards out on the table.”

She leans back, looking into his eyes. Mat knows what she’s looking for, knows she’s trying to make sure he’s being genuine, but he’s pretty sure he’s got hearts in his eyes, so she’s probably going to find what she’s looking for pretty quick.

“Mat…” She says, his name soft and syrupy on her lips.

“I love you,” he repeats again, leaning in to kiss her again. “And you can tell me when you’re ready.”

He pulls away, heading toward the stove to finish up, but Summer takes him by surprise, pulling him back to her and kissing him like her life depends on it, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close.

“I’m ready,” she says between kisses. “I love you.”

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

Mumpearl Drabble please :3?

His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo.

PearlescentMoon has gone by many names: Peril. Farmer Queen. Santa Perla. Madre de Girasoles. The Great Lunar Neighbour. Even Moonatrix Octa. She was no stranger to deification. She'd been worshipped by a wide variety of people. By her own Helianthias, by the Harengons of Sanctuary, by Jeremys of Stratos: and, now, even by The Order of Octa. And yet, out of all these followings, out of all these flocks of religions, cults and sects dedicated to her image… there was only one she was interested in. The Mooners. Or, rather, its founder. And his name was Mumbo Jumbo. She had to admit, it was odd. She’d been worshipped by countless mortals throughout history, but this wasn't just another mindless devotee, no, before that, he had been someone she'd known; somebody she'd loved. A friend. Before he had been a Mooner he had been apart of Boatem. He still was. It was surreal to see the same man she'd laughed with, the same man who had teased her and taught her what it was like to love and be loved and be human… worship the very thing about her that wasn't. Worship the idea of her, worship the concept of a omnipotent, despotic rock in the sky, worship everything about herself she hated. She had hated being a goddess. That's why she had come to Hermitcraft in the first place. She was sick of being treated as a stagnant notion - something simultaneously too abstract to comprehend and yet something superficial enough to be classified by one word: perfect. She wasn't a person, just an idea. A deity. But Mumbo Jumbo had taught her how to be a person. No… he'd been the one who had made her a person. Or maybe he had just showed her that she had always been one. He made her laugh. Cry. Love. Hate. Learn. Live. Experience. He taught her how to feel, want, explore, be… he had showed her the wonders of this world, shown her that everything alive was sacred and unkillable, that this planet was alive and thus beautiful. He had made her fall in love with the dull world that she had grown to loathe over the centuries all over again. He had made her fall in love with him. And so, watching him fall in love, not with her — not with the genuine, real version of herself she'd become — but with postulated perception of herself she'd been trying so hard to unbecome? The dehumanized idea of what she was supposed to be? The version of herself he'd unwittingly taught her she wasn't defined by? It felt like death. It felt like she was dying. Was this heartache? Could somebody who never had a heart have it break? Pearl loved Mumbo. But Mumbo only loved the Moon. Not Pearlescent.

The moon had two faces; one of which was always hidden from sight. One face could never be seen the human eye. No matter how much they tried, no matter what they used — whether it be telescopes, binoculars, spectrometers, or observation stations… nobody could ever see the far side of the moon. Nobody could ever see her in full display. Only in facets; fragments. In some ways, Pearl resented this fact. Nobody could ever know her; not truly. Nobody could never know her in her entirety. What would happen if they knew the new Australian Hermit wasn't from Australia at all, but from the moon, anyway? No, actually, she wasn't from the moon, she was the moon. She was just the actual, literal moon. That big 'ol floating rock in the sky? The one rapidly plummeting towards their planet on a path set to destruction? Yeah, that was her. Well, not exactly her, but her divine shell, which missed its' goddess after she had taken mortal form so much it was trying to reunite with her by colliding with Hermitcraft… Oopsie-daisy, yeah, my bad, sorry about the impending doom! On the slim chance they didn't immediately kick her off the server due to her very presence being a threat not only to everyone but the world itself's safety, what would they think of her, then? If the fact half of the Hermit's first instincts were to start cults around The Moon in response to its enlargement was any indication, something told her they wouldn't treat her like a regular Hermit anymore. They'd start treating her exactly like what she'd come here to get away from: a goddess. She wouldn't be Pearl anymore. She wouldn't have friends anymore. Just followers. She hated that sometimes she considered it. Oh, how easy it would be, to tell Mumbo she was the Great Lunar Neighbour he loved so much. That she was who he'd been unknowingly worshipping this entire time; she was his goddess. Her feelings for him would be reciprocated in a heartbeat. He'd love her in the same way she loved him; endlessly and entirely. …But he wouldn't. Not really. He wouldn't love her. He'd love the idealized idea of her he thought she was, this version of her he'd made up in his head. And even saying he'd love her would be a stretch… no, he wouldn't love her. He'd revere her, worship her, exalt her… but not love. Not in the ways mortals loved each other. He wouldn't love her for who she was, but for what she was. And, so, she wouldn't tell him. Because as long as he didn't know, there was still a chance he could love her; the actual her. She just had to be patient. Though it was times like this her patience really ran thin.

"I don't understand," Mumbo sobbed; the sound was hoarse, gravelly and guttural. He hadn't slept in… nobody knew how long, and the hysteric delirium of sleep-deprivation seemed to finally be catching up with him. "I — I did… I did everything right! I'm doing everything right, I don't — I don't understand what I did wrong. What am I doing wrong?" He cried. "Shh, shh… you're not doing anything wrong, Mumbs. You didn't do anything wrong. You're perfect. You've done everything perfect," Pearl consoled him, running her fingertips' through his hair in an assuaging manner, trying to coax him to calmness in the same way somebody might try to coax a crying infant back to sleep in the late hours of the night… which, was what she was doing, really, in a sense. His locks were unkempt, disheveled and sloven, bedraggled despite the fact he hadn't touched a bed for weeks. But even in his grotty state, to her, he was still gorgeous. He was still perfect. "Then why is she still mad? I — I made her a temple, I made her altars, I built her shrines, and — and — and — I even convinced Boatem to give up their beds! I even —  I don't understand… I thought — I thought that would fix it… I thought that would make her happy, but she's still — is it not enough? Am I not doing enough..?" Mumbo sniffled as he looked at her with hollow, sunken eyes, a strange mixture of devotion and desperation on his face. His eyebags were so heavy they weighed down his cheeks' like an anchor, an anvil. "Can't she tell I love her? I — I just want to make her happy. I just want her to know — I — I just… I just want her to know how much I love her." Pearl's heart ached. I know. "She knows," she whispered, trying to keep her voice from hitching, trying to control her pitch. "She knows you love her. She… she loves you too. So, so much." I love you too. I love you so, so much. "No," Mumbo shook his head with a strangled snuffle, dismissing her words as nothing but empty consolations. He didn't know how true they really were, he didn't know they weren't just a friend's weak attempt to lift his spirits, but that they were a love confession from the very God he had devoted his entire being too. That she really did love him, too, more than he could possibly fathom. "If — if she loved me, she… she wouldn't still be upset. If she knew how much I loved her, she wouldn't be — she wouldn't still be causing earthquakes and stealing blocks, and — I just, I need — I need to try harder. I need to show her, I need her to know, I need her to see…" No, you just need to see. You just need to see it's me. I'm right here - why can't you see? I'm not mad. I was never mad. I could never be mad at you. I love you. Please, please, please… stop. I don't want this. I'd never want you to do this to yourself. But he never listened. He would never listen to Pearl; and the one voice he would listen to was one she couldn't admit was her own. It was infuriating… He loved her so, so much, too much, and yet he didn't love her at all. He could never love her while he still loved who she had been. Who had to be. He could never love her while his love for her was destroying him. It was killing him. And, so, it seemed there was only one solution. She had to make him hate her. She had to make him hate The Moon. She had to make him hate her as much as she hated herself. And with the fact he didn't already, despite the fact her old vessel had actively been spreading insanity amongst the Hermits, causing earthquakes and disasters, destroying the landscape? It would take some drastic measures. Lengths she didn't want to go to. But knew she had too. For his sake and her own.

When she'd abandoned her celestial form, she'd abandoned most of her deific abilities with it. Fortunately, not all of them. She had enough power in reserve to call upon a mite of her old body down to Earth; a meteor. Little more than an atom compared to her mass. But enough to serve as a teensy deposit of her powers she could tap into and exploit. Enough to influence those around around her with The Moon's voice. Enough to make it clear love wouldn't work. Enough to make it clear there was only one option.

"…'I must have them'? Who must she have? Who must she have? Is it us? Must she have me? Must she have Doc? Who? Who does she need…?"

"He who doth preach to us on the first day of the server… so doth shall be returned to dust first." "His name is Mumbo Jumbo."

His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo. His name is Mumbo Jumbo.

Make love, not war. But if love doesn't work… use war.

-- so. uh. you asked for a drabble. this is uh..... this is 1.8k words. i may have. i may have gotten a little carried away. approximately 18 times the requested length carried away. I'M SO SORRY. I AM....... SO SORRY. I GOT A LITTLE BIT ILL ABOUT THEM. I HOPE THIS IS OK LOL. ANYWAY. thinking about hc s8 mumbo and the moon's strange relationship......... what do you MEAN mumbo made a cult and a temple and a shrine completely dedicated to the moon? what do you MEAN the first thing the moon did when it gained control over ren and doc's minds was make them sacrifice mumbo jumbo specifically ? and then cub ALSO sacrificed [an imitation of] mumbo jumbo SPECIFICALLY to appease the moon ? the moon was JUST as insane about mumbo as mumbo was about the moon. mumpearl is real guys i don't know what to tell you they're obsessed with each other they're deranged yuri

[galadrieljones]

i actually afraid that daryl fell in love with Isabel i mean he looks happy with her and laurent. i feel sad i want him with beth.

Hey anon! Sorry it took me so long.

I completely understand this, though I don't think it's likely. I'll try to offer my perspective.

My first and most basic reasoning for why I don't think that Isabelle is a true love interest for Daryl is the fact that tptb opted to make her a nun. Nuns are famously celibate. Tptb didn't have to do that. In fact, it seems a deliberate choice on their part to create a natural barrier between them in terms of romance. The fact that Isabelle made a holy vow juxtaposed with the lawlessness and general unhappiness of her life before the Fall also makes it way less likely that she would ever forsake that vow. Nothing about her characterization suggests that she is searching for romance or that she has reconsidered her vows. In fact, they already explored this notion through Sylvie, who actually DOES question whether becoming a nun is right for her. Sylvie and Isabelle discuss this in season one, in which we learn that Sylvie is very young, and that, unlike Isabelle, she hasn't had time to really experience life and make an informed choice. Sylvie, who falls in love with Emile, chooses romantic love.

From a writer's standpoint, it would be odd and also repetitive for them to double up on this theme, ie: to have both remaining nuns from the abbey forsake their vows for love. Instead, they seem to be setting up a duality between Isabelle and Sylvie: opposing but complimentary characterizations. This duality also represents a core tension inside of Daryl, ie: the tension between his desire to live a lonely, wandering, celibate life or to find love, settle down, and commit himself.

They do pressurize the bond between Isabelle and Daryl in small ways; however, it's really just a decoy for the audience. For example, the bath scene in season one. While there may be physical touching, I would categorize it as clinical and, considering how he grabs her wrist, even quasi-hostile. There is really no sexual tension between Daryl and Isabelle.

BUT, consider what I said earlier about decoys AND dualities. @twdmusicboxmystery, @wdway and I have discussed a lot in the past about Isabelle and Leah and how they are both decoys for Beth but also dualities for one another. Consider the eclipse scene in "Find Me": Leah is the moon, Isabelle is the sun. One is a force of darkness, one is a force of light. They cancel each other out. Neither one is right for Daryl, but they share a lot in common. Both Isabelle and Leah lost sisters to childbirth and raised the babies as their own. Leah lost Matthew to a walker bite, while Laurent is possibly immune to walker bites (speculation, but greatly hinted at). Leah's leader is a man who goes by the name "Pope." Isabelle is a Catholic nun, which means that her symbolic leader would be...the Pope. These are purposeful choices made by the writers to create parallels between them. We've determined that much about Leah and the situation with the Reapers is actually foreshadowing, not just for Beth, but for Isabelle. Isabelle/Leah both have blond hair (like Beth), but they both first appear to us in "disguise" with their true "Beth" hair covered (Leah with red hair in Daryl's memory, Isabelle with her habit). I also believe that the name "Leah" as well as the fact that both women seem to come to Daryl in "veils" casts both her AND Isabelle as "imposters" of sorts, as Leah in the Bible comes to Jacob in disguise, letting him think that she is Rachel, the girl he actually loves, so that he marries her by mistake.

There is a lot to say here, though ultimately I do think that, to me, the most obvious tell that Daryl and Isabelle are unlikely to be each others true loves is the fact that a.) she's a nun, and b.) they haven't gotten together already. BUT, I do think that Isabelle is meant to create drama and tension for fans, particularly shippers, especially to inure a *certain* ship to the idea that Daryl may end up with *someone,* but he is probably not going to end up with their chosen love interest. This is also the purpose that Leah served. Both remind us that Daryl is a man who is romantically interested in woman, but this doesn't mean that either will end up as his true love.

I hope this helps! ❤️

[queerfanfiction]

Love Notes (Ch. 5)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader We have an angsty chapter here, oops. Also, thank you all for being patient as I got back to writing! It took getting pneumonia to unblock writer's block somehow? Idk. Make it make sense.

AO3 link

In between moments not with Larissa, you worked on orchestrating the big reveal and scavenger hunt. There were a lot of moving parts to your plan, and it would take some secrecy to enact, because you were pretty sure you’d have to involve other people. The question remained of who you could trust to involve…

Eventually you and Larissa go into Jericho together. It felt like the most normal outing, the two of you laughing about something in the car ride over and planning how to continue your adventures and treats into the new semester. Spending time with Larissa came so naturally. Sure, you still felt killer butterflies when she stole a glance at you, but it felt right. That’s the only way you knew how to describe it.

While she briefly meets with the mayor and does a follow up interview with a new affiliate therapist for Nevermore, you planned to check out the florist shop for her favorite flowers. Even though you’re a few weeks out from your ideal time to unveil the mystery, you’re not sure if securing lilies would be possible so early in the spring.

Through the windows of the town hall, Larissa sees you chatting outside with the local florist. A man with an apron on and the kind of scruffy looking beard that seemed like it was naturally charming but actually took work to achieve. Larissa knew almost everyone in Jericho personally by now, but all she had known about him is that many of the women around town fancied him.

At that moment, you had casually touched his arm, like he was an old friend. What was that? she mused, oblivious that the therapist in front of her had finished answering her question. Her mind wandered to whether or not you fancied him.

“Larissa?” The voice brought you out of your pondering.

“Apologies! I was simply considering how wonderful it will be for students to be able to confide in someone again, especially after the year they’ve had.” Larissa’s scrambling to save her indiscretion was believable, so believable that her conversation partner smiled wide and thanked her for her consideration and support in their employment.

Placated and wrapping up the meeting, Larissa resumed pilling through her memories to discern if you had ever mentioned the florist before. She was certain you hadn’t. An ache began to creep into her heart when she considered, Is this why you pushed to come to Jericho?

After finishing her conversation with the mayor, Larissa waits in the foyer of the town hall to watch your interaction with the man before heading to the Weathervane. Larissa began to get lost in thought again, Why do I care? I’m not involved. In fact, you owed me nothing. You’re not mine. I mean, no one has a claim over anyone. That notion is an archaic and patriarchal way of thinking—one that doesn’t value consent and agency. Larissa sighed and pushed open the heavy wooden door to leave.

Not knowing Larissa had been watching you, you chatted with James, the florist you had just met. While you didn’t offer the identity of the person, you let him in on your entire plan and hopes for the flowers in the scavenger hunt.

At first you thought he would be more rugged and standoffish, but his eyes lit up at the mention of using his flowers in a surprise. He promised he would have as many lilies available that I needed and that he could help arrange anything else for the reveal.

“A hopeless romantic, huh?” you gleamed at him, not knowing how to explain what his kindness and support meant to you. James blushed a bit and peered at you between strands of hair falling in his eyes. He finally confessed, “I suppose so” accompanied by a massive grin.

It felt nice to be able to plan with someone. You’ve been holding your feelings close to your chest around others; you weren’t sure if Larissa felt similarly or if she would be guarded against public acknowledgement being the head of the academy. Overwhelmed with gratitude, you risked holding out your arms for a hug while muttering a quick “thank you” that was warmly received. 

You meet Larissa in the Weathervane about 15 minutes later after getting James’s number to coordinate for later. You practically skip in and kiss her on the cheek, having been so excited to have set a plan in motion for the scavenger hunt.

“Hello!” Peck. “How was the interview?”

“Productive,” Larissa gives in a slightly standoffish tone. You wonder if she is angry you kept her waiting. She had just finished ordering when you came in from the flower shop, possibly growing frustrated of sitting around waiting.

Worry nestles in your chest when you hear her respond to the barista that her drink is to go. You and Larissa had planned to drink your beverages in a booth to chat and then stroll around town before heading over to the local book shop together. When Larissa ordered the drink to go, it felt like confirmation that you had done something to upset her.

Larissa didn’t have a lot of experience with the feeling that she could only consider jealousy. She would normally be over the moon to have been gifted a cheek kiss by you. Instead, Larissa could feel herself shifting into irritable bitch mode due to not knowing what to make of your flirting with the florist. She felt powerless to stop the mood change. A million thoughts run through Larissa’s mind, but she’s not in the mood for talking—she feels too vulnerable.

“Are you okay, Larissa?” Your voice rings out, marked with concern, when Larissa didn’t turn to you or explain more about her meeting.

“Yes, why?”

Her curt response made you feel hopeless, made you question whether or not you were being too sensitive to the difference in her demeanor. “I thought we were going to stay and drink our hot chocolates here.” You aimed for a hopeful tone, not knowing if you succeeded.

Still not meeting your gaze, Larissa answered exasperatedly, “I have too much work to do after the meeting with the mayor. I can’t waste time with you anymore. I need to get back to Nevermore; would you like a ride?”

You looked as though you were just slapped across the face. Waste time? Where was this coming from? You were a waste of time to her? Thoughts engulfed you, and you felt a knob begin to form in your throat. Has Larissa been biding the time until students return and save her from spending time with you? You couldn’t speak; you knew your voice would betray you. Your eyes were beginning to sting.

All you could muster in response to Larissa’s question was a vigorous head shake and a “mmm-mm” to signal that no ride was needed. You couldn’t sit through the ride back to Nevermore with her and be detached to your emotions bubbling up right now.

You decided to risk a glance at Larissa to study her face. Maybe you were imagining this? Her features were hardened with no legible expression as she waited to receive her hot chocolate.

The seconds that you two stood there in silence seemed to drag on. The certitude of her statement and following question made you feel like you were expected to leave her side or sit back down unaffected. You’ve had moments where you were sheepish or awkward around the woman in front of you, but none of those times could compare to the thick, uncomfortable quality that surrounded you now.

When the worker behind the counter called out that a hot chocolate was ready, Larissa surged forward to seize the drink and turn on her heels in departure. No goodbye, just the fading clicks of her shoes against the floor tiles.

You watched her go, suddenly not craving the drink you were excited to imbibe minutes before. The ease and comfort you felt and championed in her presence shrank away. Confusion and hurt took its place. You shuffle to another booth than the usual one you and Larissa sat at. It felt too fragile to slide into the familiar space, as if it would flake away and crumble the memories you had there.

Taking a few moments to process, you turned to watching people come in and out of the Weathervane. A few families, teens, surprisingly more people in business suits than you’ve ever seen before. You had hoped to feel comforted by sharing space out in the world instead of retreating, but loneliness still gnawed at you—invaded you.

After about 20 minutes of waiting for the sadness to pass, you resigned to going back to campus grounds. You made your way home from the cafe, luckily giving Larissa enough time to drive back and get settled, which ensured you wouldn’t run into her when you arrived. You didn’t know if you could handle that.

Finally shuffling into your living quarters, you collapsed on the bed, not bothering to change or remove your boots. Your hands made their way to your scrunched up, wet face but not before pulling the covers far up around your head as they could go.

—

Larissa felt regret seep up her chest immediately. Her jaw locked as she waited for her drink, sensing how absurd her behavior was. She bit down on the flesh of her cheek inside her mouth in an attempt to silence her racing thoughts. When her drink was ready, she snatched it and fled. She couldn’t bear to look into your eyes or see the hurt or confusion on your face that she knew would be there.

Once in the vehicle and driving out of the town square, she reviewed her tone, the coldness she used with you. How could she explain that it was a front—a scramble for control? How could she repair the damage without addressing why she lashed out in the first place? Did she just ruin the most consistent source of joy and support she’s ever had in her life?

The questions in her head became too much, and she had to pull off the road to steady her ragged breathing. Her grip on the steering wheel showcased the whitest knuckles she’d ever seen. She felt like she had to escape but no amount of distance was enough.

Memories of your time together over the last few weeks darted behind her eyelids. She had grown so close to you, never considering that she was falling into old patterns. Getting over Morticia almost broke her. If she came unraveled by losing a high school love, what chance did she have of making it out of whatever she had for you? Seeing how close you and the florist were evoked a reaction that she couldn’t have anticipated.

Rather, your utter endearing nature with her after witnessing you with the florist is what solidified her outburst. It felt tragic and unfair to be in such close proximity to what she desired yet completely out of reach. To make it back to Nevermore, she had to dissociate—give herself over to some sort of autopilot. Once she arrived, Larissa rushed inside the large wooden doors to her office and leaned exhaustedly against the door, finally giving herself over to her emotions now that she was in the safety and seclusion of her office.

For the first time in nights, you both occupied your respective rooms, crawling into otherwise empty beds.

—

The following morning, you feel how tight and raw your eyes are from crying through the night. Leaving the bed doesn’t seem in the cards today. Instead, you curl up trying to keep warm now that you don’t have Larissa’s body heat to wake up to.

Knowing its a bad idea, you roll over and let your mind think of yesterday. Maybe she was just using you to distract herself while she recovered. She’s not exactly spoiled for choice with everyone gone for winter break. You probably haven’t meant as much to her as she has meant to you. …Would coming clean about authoring the mix CDs be ill advised then? Or should you still put the mystery to rest, allowing closure for you both? As your mind went back and forth, you couldn’t help but consider how authentic Larissa seemed when you two spent time together. You wanted to hold onto that.

Time passed so slowly laying there. You were scared to leave your room to shower, to eat, to go to the orchestra room. Of course you didn’t want to see the object of your pain and hurt, but you also couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything—even within the confines of your living space.

Days went by until you finally had to get up to shower and do laundry. Your room was starting to stink and you didn’t want students coming back to campus to suspect anything is remiss. You gathered your things and tiptoed to the faculty showers. Thankfully it was empty for you to slip into the farthest stall away with a half crescent stained glass window.

You stand in the corner of the stall to turn on the water and wait for it to warm up. Once you deemed the water hot enough, you stepped into the stream and closed your eyes, rolling your neck in and out of the water. For a few minutes you stood still, letting the the water run down your back, scorching the skin. Steam rose to caress the stained glass above you.

Meanwhile, what you didn’t know was that Larissa treaded carefully too. She had tried not to seek you out, yet she was wary of and half expected to see you everywhere she went. She took tabs of where you might be, and you weren’t in the faculty lounge, the library, the courtyard, the entrance hall, or even the shared dorm spaces when she was there. Larissa even found herself walking past the orchestra room only to be met with silence.

—

About a week after the incident at the Weathervane and a couple days after your shower and laundry excursion, you decide to attempt to leave your room again.   With students arriving back on campus and a new semester rapidly approaching, you needed to figure out your syllabus and compositions. You slid on a blazer over a crisp white button up and slowly headed to your once familiar safe haven—the music room.

Once inside the space, you immediately feel terrible for being away from it for so long. There it was waiting patiently to comfort you and build new soundscapes with you. Your hands wander across the various instruments set out about the space. Your fingers touch piano keys, guitar strings, wooden reeds, metal valves, cherishing the notes that emitted from them as you skimmed past each collection.

You attempted to hold back your flurry of emotions and focus on various scores and arrangements for your syllabus, but each note made your heart ache for what catharsis could be spilling from you instead.

It wasn’t long until the music shifted from pointed instruction that corresponded to specific weeks within the semester to raw, unruly emotion. You began to sob while composing soft, slow tunes that built into delicate and resonant peaks. The instruments you commanded had a measured grace about them that filled the room with its rich melody.

As the music pouring from you continued, it burned slowly, not unlike a campfire that blazes one moment and crackles with reverb the next. Rhythm rang out and orchestral layers began to pile up, transporting the song to cinematic heights full of fragility and a holy, spiritual quality that you’ve never heard before from your own music.

Making her daily rounds across the academy grounds, Larissa notices the emotional tune emitting from the music room that has been vacant up until this point. Her heart catches in her throat as the music pulls indecipherable feelings from her core. A air of melancholy and longing overwhelms Larissa. She had hoped to see you, but she wasn’t expecting this. The song radiating from the room to her eardrums had stopped Larissa in her tracks. The showcase of gentle tones that blossomed into shimmering instrumental passages had brought tears to her eyes. 

Larissa had lingered here many times before, stealing away compositions from the hall outside your domain. However, this time she wanted to burst through the doors and apologize. She wanted to usher in a vibrant symphony rather than the lonesome notes currently leaking out of the room. She could overhear this change in you. It was apparent, and Larissa knew she was the cause.

—

Eventually, students began to return. You had attempted to stay a recluse in your room for as long as you could. That is, until a day swiftly came when you heard excited knocks rapt against the door to your living space.

With a knowing sigh, you heaved yourself from your desk towards the door. You knew the pink cheeks and bouncing hair that would open up before you beyond the door. Enid had come to say hello after returning from break.

“Professor!”

“Hello there, Enid.” You mustered up the sweetest smile you could for the girl, even though you still felt lackluster. “How was your break?”

“Oh, it was so good! Well, it was kind of kooky staying with Wednesday and her family. They’re so different from my family. My brothers are sure to tackle each other to the ground as soon as possible, but Wednesday and Pugsley hardly touch! You can still tell she has a soft spot for him, though. They ha-”

You let Enid ramble on about her winter break and the things she and the Addams’s got up to. To be honest, the lack of effort needed to continue the conversation was nice; you weren’t sure you had it in you for explaining elaborate stories or… any details right now.

“Um, anyway, I wanted to ask you a question, actually.” Her forthcoming demeanor slowed, and you could tell she was nervous.

“Anything for my favorite resident.” Your words were enough to melt the young werewolf’s fears. Her shoulders relax, and she happily pushes her way into your room.

Slightly taken aback at the gesture, you leave the door ajar and take a seat in one of the armchairs across from where she has elected to sit. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s kind of about Wednesday.” You stay quiet, letting Enid know she has the floor and that you won’t rush her.

“We had a really good break. I mean, we got on each others’ nerves a lot. She always scoffs like she is better off alone and is annoyed, but I could tell she liked having me there.”

You nod, willing yourself to have empathetic eyes that signal for her to continue.

She finally blurts out, “We almost kissed, and now Wednesday won’t talk to me.” Enid seems panicked and almost in tears at this revelation.

“Hey, hey.” You rise from your chair to place a comforting hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Take some deep breaths. You’re okay, and we’re going to talk about it. It’s okay.”

Enid wipes her eyes, and you continue supportively, “I know being vulnerable is hard, especially when you can’t control how other people react or feel. Is that how you are feeling?”

“Yeah. Wednesday is so hard to read and gives me mixed signals. She goes back and forth between being standoffish and blunt but also charming and kind of open to being close. Sometimes it seems like she won’t let herself be happy,” Enid ends with a frown.

“I see how conflicted you feel, and I’m sorry you are going through this. What I will say is that you are more likely to regret not honoring your own feelings than communicating your needs. Nothing good ever happened from shrinking away from what you truly wanted.”

“Wow, that’s so deep.” Enid takes a moment. “So even if things don’t work out the way I hope, I know I did what I could to be true to myself?”

“Exactly. That’s all we can do sometimes. Yes, it could be hard to not have feelings reciprocated, but you’re not happy not knowing either.”

“Okay, I think I know what I’m gonna do. Thank you!” Enid is standing and reaching out to you in a firm embrace now. You reciprocate, hoping the best for the young girl. You knew how close she and Wednesday were, even if Wednesday puts on a front.

A few moments pass, and Enid is over by your desk now, picking up everything in sight and inspecting it. “So, what’s wrong with you and Principal Weems?” Enid’s nosy, chipper demeanor is back.

A puzzled look appears on your face. “What do you mean? Principal Weems and I haven’t seen each other?”

“You two were always together before we all left for break.” She shrugs and raises her eyes, playing with your pens before moving onto your swinging, metal pendulum.

Geez, students could not be fooled. They are far more perceptive than other faculty give them credit for. Your head swam, and you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what you could say, given that Larissa was the principal and would likely not support students gossiping about her personal life. At your long pause, Enid continued.

“Now you two both seem sad. I could tell when you opened the door since almost the whole dorm is back and hasn’t seen you. And Principal Weems is way more irritable than normal. Ajax, Yoko, and I were throwing around a ball in the courtyard and almost hit one of the gargoyles. Principal Weems confiscated the ball and gave us a lecture on the history of the gargoyles at Nevermore. Something about them being 1,300 year old hand-crafted stone?”

“Oh, Enid, I’m not sure…” It was all you could think to say to both Enid’s original and follow up question.

“Like you said, nothing good will happen from shrinking away from what you want. Your words.” Enid states this as if she is wielding a giant philosophical answer. You can’t help but feel pride in her quick use of the same line. Okay, why did you have to give such great advice?

The earnest nature of the young werewolf was admirable and made your weak heart grow. Enid begins to walk out of your room muttering a combination of “just saying” and “thanks again!”

As the door closes, you slump into your chair, deep in thought. Maybe you should put it all out there. What is the worst that could happen? It’s the least you could do for yourself. Otherwise, you’re back to where you started. Your discussion with Enid inadvertently encourages you to step up and continue the scavenger hunt.

—

Tagging: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @aster-loves-gwen, @justcallmelittleone, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @lvinhs, @one-pining-queer, @kimiinou, @bobia13. Let me know if anyone else wants tagged in the future. :)

[ash5monster01]

Perfect To Love Part 16

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, angst, trust issues, language.

Summary: Beth Walker was used to living in the shadows. She had only one friend and anyone else who paid her mind usually bullied her for her size. So she learned to keep her mouth shut, her head down, and her heart closed because she had to accept the fact that she would be nothing more than the fat girl to people. That is until Robin decides Beth needs more in life and that might just include a boy who she never would’ve thought could see her for who she truly was.

word count: 2.1K

Part 15 ←→ Part 17

Masterlist

Beth felt at ease making things right between her and Robin. Like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She was even interacting with the kids. The only person she had yet to smooth things over with was Steve. Robin had hinted to her that it was absolutely killing him but she still couldn’t comprehend he felt that way for her at all. That wasn’t something she could just get over in one night. That was years worth of abuse and trauma she couldn’t just erase. Fact was Steve had still hurt her, whether it was intentional or not and how can she truly believe he was attracted to her when he was asked to give her a shot in the first place? If Steve couldn’t come to love her on his own was it really love at all?

So because of that Beth had spent the better part of two weeks avoiding him. She was doing a good job to and Steve was keeping his distance. He didn’t want to force her into proximity if she wasn’t ready. He was going to do everything right this time, he just hoped she would want to actually talk to him. Christmas was coming fast, and even faster her birthday, and he was running out of time to make up with her before then. So against his better judgment he came up with a plan, a plan pre-approved by Robin and Nancy which he had both made sure to ask before he ruined things further.

“I have to stop in Mrs. Addams class before I leave, I’ll see you later” Robin suddenly said as her and Beth walked towards the school doors. The final bell before Christmas break had rung and they were on their fast way of escape.

“Oh, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow” Beth said, a bit confused by her friends sudden departure but she pulled her coat close to her and started for the doors. She only realized why Robin had parted so soon when she rounded the corner.

There Steve Harrington stood, back leaned against the wall, his white Nikes scuffed and worn. He wore a heavy red sweater and a black coat draped over his shoulders. Wet snowflakes littered through his fluffy hair, cheeks pink from the cold, and Beth only vaguely wondered what it would be like to kiss him right now.

“Hi” he jumped up, standing at attention now that Beth had appeared. She realized it didn’t really hurt all that much seeing him, in fact it was kinda nice.

“Hi” she offered a smile back and he went to wipe his palms on his jeans, this was the most nervous he had ever been.

“Look, I didn’t mean to corner you. I’m going to leave I just wanted to give you this” and Beth watched as he fumbled with his jacket pocket, pulling a white envelope free from its confinement and holding it over. Beth reached for it, begging her hand not to shake.

“Thanks” she muttered once she had it pulled to her chest and the hand that used to have the envelope ran nervously through his hair, snowflakes now melted away.

“Merry Christmas, and Happy Birthday” he offered and Beth gave him a smile. Steve took this as his cue to leave so he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and headed for the door.

“Merry Christmas to you too Steve” Beth called out and Steve froze before turning back and looking at her. Maybe it was a peace offering, a notion to be civil, but after getting to know her that would never be enough. Only knowing Beth Walker in passing was the worst way to know her, because you would forever have to live with the fact that you missed out.

Beth made her way home, the old escort stuttering to life and working overtime to pump some heat into the vehicle. Beth could feel the envelope burning a hole through her pocket but she kept herself from looking at it the whole way home, even through her house as she removed the scarf from her neck and greeted her mother with a kiss. It wasn’t until she was sat up at the desk in her bedroom, the lamp offering a warm glow, did she looked at the scratched writing on the front. It was Steves, loopy and sharp all at the same time, and her heart fluttered over the fact that he had written her name. He had written this just for her.

Dear Beth,

Absolutely nothing will change the fact that I hurt you. I know that, I accept that. Thing is I can’t accept that you think it was all fake. I’m a good friend, a loyal friend, but a shit actor. So if you think every moment between us was me pretending for the sake of Robin you are mistaken. In high school I got shit grades because I could never keep track of what I was writing in an essay but as I write this I don’t find myself getting off track because you need to know this. That guy in high school that hurt you, he forgot you because he hated himself for how he treated you. What you don’t know is that moments before he had tried to stop his friends, maybe he should have tried harder, but at least it was something. The guy I am now, he’s still new, he’s still getting the hang of things, and that guy wasn’t in high school long enough to meet you.

Yet when you showed up on my doorstep that first night he noticed you immediately. He noticed how big and bright your eyes were, how short you were, how long your curly brown hair swung around your back, and he took all of these things and noticed how beautiful you were. I asked you to that party, I asked you on that date, that was all me. I wanted to do those things with you because damnit Beth, anyone who is around you long enough knows you can’t help but fall in love with you. So Robin may have brought you to my house, asked me to get to know you, but everything else was all me, because falling in love with you has been the easiest thing I’ve done in the last two years. I’d like the opportunity to love you again, so when you’re ready let me know because there is absolutely no way I’m going to be getting over you anytime soon.

Happy Birthday!

Love, Steve

Beth had always wanted a love letter. The idea of it always pulled at her heart strings. It was such a romantic gesture, one she enjoyed in many books and many movies. Thing was she never thought she could ever receive one. Never figured someone would write the fat girl a love letter. Yet here in her hands, in the simplest terms, was a love letter from Steve Harrington. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to say all those things out loud. He still made sure to write them down and hand deliver it to her. That had to account for something right?

Scrambling for the phone on the corner of her desk she pulled it close, fingers fumbling with the numbers as she hastily typed in Robins house number, and prayed she’d be there to pick up. “Hello”

“Robin, hey!” Beth anxiously spluttered out, dropping the letter on the desk in hopes not to crumple it too much.

“I assume you read the letter” Robin said and Beth anxiously giggled, unsure of what to do.

“I, yeah. I read it” Beth said, her foot tapping nervously unsure really why she called.

“Look Beth he’s not expecting you to chase after him. He just wanted you to know the truth. So don’t get all worked up and freaked out. Take some time to mull it over, read it a few times, bask in the feeling of being desired” Robin told her and Beth instantly remembered this was why she called. Robin knew what she was thinking and calmed her down. She didn’t need much else.

“Do you think he really loves me?” Beth asked, the phone chord coiling around her finger as she played with it. Her eyes glanced over at the letter, the word love written hastily in Steve’s rush to get all his thoughts on paper.

“I do, because you can’t put a timer on love. You’ve known him for three months, spent time with him, got to know him. Sometimes when it’s right, it’s right. Three months is just enough time if not more, to fall in love” Robin told Beth and Beth broke out in a grin, thinking of all those moments with Steve. How for a while there they didn’t go more than a day without seeing each other. They weren’t just dating they were friends and in that time she had become friends with all of his friends too. During that she learned to love all those friends, so it was no wonder she fell in love with Steve too. It made sense especially since it hurt so much when she left him.

“I think I love him too Robin” she whispered into the phone, almost embarrassed to say it out loud because when she first met Steve she promised herself she wasn’t going too.

“I know you do Beth, so enjoy it. I’ll see you Sunday” Robin told her, smiling widely even though the girl couldn’t see it. It was almost Beth’s 18th birthday and she was happy and in love. It was all she ever wanted for Beth.

“See you Sunday” Beth muttered back and Robin hung up the phone with a click. Beth took a moment before dropping the phone and jumping up in celebration. She cheered, she squealed, and then spun around until she had fallen in a heap on her bed.

“What is going on up here?” her mother burst through the door and through excited giggles Beth could only smile at her Mom as she stood to hand her the letter. Anxiously she watched as she read and when she was done she looked up to her daughter with a smile.

“Oh Beth” and then they were hugging and jumping around together. “Are you gonna go see him?”

“I don’t know yet” Beth told her as she stepped away, retrieving the letter from her mothers grasp.

“Why not?!” she asked her and Beth shrugged as she set it back down on her desk.

“I don’t know, I think I just want some time to really let it sink in. Get my thoughts in order” she told her and Allie smiled, walking over to press a kiss to her hair.

“Do I want to ask what he meant by hurting you in high school?” she asked instead and Beth just chuckled as she shook her head.

“No, because I’m over it. Turns out I have been for a while” and Allie could only smile as she hugged her daughter again. All she ever wanted for her was to know she could be loved if she had let people in. Now it was true and a boy loved her daughter the way a boy should. Irrevocably and unapologetically.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour” Allie told her once she let her go and Beth nodded with a smile that just wouldn’t go away. Allie left the room and Beth grabbed the letter again as she laid on her bed, eyes traveling across the words that she was sure to never get sick of.

She spent the better part of the next hour trying to picture Steve writing it. Probably sat at his desk, under that red corvette picture, in his eerily empty house, as he tried to collect his thoughts. Each of those thoughts about her and that image alone warmed her heart over. The image made her long for the boy, wishing she was in that big empty house with him, comforting him, loving him. Everything was a thing of the past now, but if now, after almost three weeks of giving him the cold shoulder, and he still wanted to love her, she would just have to give him a chance. If she didn’t she’d miss out on the chance of being loved and you’d have to be stupid to miss out on that.

Taglist: @kindablackenedsuperhero @rinarecommends @starryeyedpoet17 @crustless-toast @loverofmarsss @dilflover-3 @bethanysnow @middle-of-the-earth @princessadriana4-blog @mochminnie @legendaryhumandiplomatgoop @a-lil-bit-nuts @i-came-as-bostonian @krazyk99 @thunderstomp-and-tequila @cumslutforaemond @futuristicbirdtraveler @unholyhuntress @crushculture03 @jenniferpendragon

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

a/n: the last two chapters have been written my friends, this journey we have taken with Beth and Steve has been so wonderful, and for the first time in three months I no longer have to write a new chapter for this series and in a way I feel empty. Beth was a character created to remind you all you are beautiful the way you are and can be loved by anyone if you put yourself out there and are confident in your being. I’ll get more sappy during the last chapter but thank you all so far for enjoying.

[snapscube]

hihihi ok. so i’m in my last of us fixation mode and i’m being extra silly about it but i NEED to know what’s ur current opinion on the last of us hbo?? also i logged onto tumblr and saw a lot of rly good points defending joel’s final choice and i remember during the last of us pt1 playthrough u had differing opinions so i wonder if u think the show’s differences affect that at all? btw i LOVE ur stuff and cannot wait until u do last of us pt 2 wehehehehe!!! anyway besides all that i just want u to know that u are one of the things in my life that makes it easier to get up in the morning

I still feel exactly the same about the final events as I always have! The show didn't change it for me, and actually being able to remove myself from being in control of the situation in the game and actually just watch the events play out in show format solidified that further. The connection I have to Joel as a player when I play the game really helps me understand his perspective more and stomach the goal a bit more easily, but without that immediate intimacy it puts into perspective for me how kinda monstrous the whole thing is from every angle. Obviously I don't ever lose that sympathy for him, and I never stop understanding why, because the whole point of the conflict is that no one is in the right. Ultimately I think the damning thing for every single person involved is that they removed Ellie's agency from the equation, and I still stand by that. They all should have talked to her. They should have told her the truth. All she wants is for her immunity to matter, and I believe that they may have been surprised at the lengths she's willing to go in order to make a difference, whether it's ultimately the right call or not.

I don't know what arguments you've seen exactly in defense of Joel's choice, but personally I don't really agree with one I see a lot and I'd expect will pop up again now that the show is over, which is the whole "well who's to say a vaccine would have worked anyway?????" angle. I think, while reasonable from a meta standpoint, completely ignores the intended framing of the story in order to more conveniently justify a protagonist that the story through its entire runtime is trying to tell you is a little bit of a piece of shit. It's pretty clear and safe to assume that the ultimate intent here is that... yes, the vaccine WOULD have worked. Maybe not in the sweeping way they hoped, but Ellie's sacrifice absolutely would have done something. The whole moral dilemma of the situation really does not make any sense unless you give them that as fact imo.

So then, assuming that is true, you have to wrestle with the idea that Joel is willing to take down the entirety of humanity for Ellie. And not really for Ellie, because none of this is what Ellie wanted. The game AND the show QUITE LITERALLY SPELL OUT for us that Ellie really really really does not want to go back to Jackson without finishing what they started, regardless of the cost. Joel's reasons for saving Ellie, while understandable, are ultimately selfish and rooted in his own trauma and having just seen the light at the end of his grieving over Sarah. Again, incredibly sympathetic, but it's selfish. I know we like to joke as much, but Ellie IS NOT his daughter. They share a similar bond after everything they go through, but by the end of the game you can already feel Ellie pulling away from that notion because she's starting to realize Joel doesn't have the same commitment to the idea of her immunity being meaningful as she does, they're only a few miles away and he's already asking her to give up and go back to Jackson with him.

Then, of course, I think what ultimately damns Joel in my eyes on a poetic/storytelling level is his decision to lie to Ellie after it's all over. That's the nail in the coffin for me. It would be one thing if he said "they were going to kill you on that operating table without even telling you what was going on and I couldn't let them do that", but instead he lies to her to make sure she's still able to see him as the father he desperately wants to be again. It doesn't change anything. He tells her her worst fear has come to pass: her immunity, this unexplainable thing that has taken so many of her loved ones from her, is completely useless. Not only that, but now even more people are dead. Including Marlene, who's known her since birth. The only thing his lie changes is the fact that he's responsible for it all.

Anyway, part of what I love most about The Last of Us Part II is how it follows up on these threads and you may be pleased to know that I actually just started streaming the game last night after the HBO finale premiered cause I was so pumped up I couldn't wait any longer haha. So you'll be seeing VODs for that soon :)

[slashthrashandcrash]

Follow up question lol

How do you feel about moral corruption in relation to the final girl? It would depend on the plot of course, but in the right situation where she’s slowly turned (or alternatively revealed) to have similarities to the slasher?

I find it an interesting way to challenge the traditional notion of the final girl being a bastion of purity against the awful malevolence of the slasher.

Furthermore, I feel like it’s a potentially interesting reflection on the slasher themselves depending on whether it becomes a flipped script—she’s even worse and he has to survive her! Or the alternative where they’re “happily” together in bloody matrimony (not necessarily with actual marriage Ofc)

Ooooohhh...a gaslight gatekeep girlboss...we love to see it

I really like exploring this idea a couple of ways:

A) It ultimately ends with the Slasher being killed by the Final Girl after it's been revealed that she's equally, probably even more so, deranged than him.

Her naive and sweet exterior was all a facade that she purposely flaunted to lure in victims, and it just so happened that one of the people she attracted was a serial killer assuming she'd be the perfect target. And in all fairness, she really hams it up too when she realizes what's going on -- extra helpless, extra cute, all while having the perfect cover of "a slasher is killing everyone around me please save me!!" when, in fact, she's the one doing 80% of the murders and simply blaming it on him. It's too opportunistic!

When the Slasher finds out, he's...honestly flabbergasted. He's always been the mastermind of torment, and here he is, played like a damn fiddle. But now he's a loose end, it's no fun when he knows her tricks. It's going to be the most sexually tense bloody showdown of the century, because he surely knew deep down there was a reason he was so attracted to her, and she clearly likes the thrill of killing all the same. Still, in the end, she gets to live and go crying to the media about just barely surviving the ordeal while all her crimes are pinned on a dead man.

B) The Final Girl is lonely, painfully an outcast, whether it's true or simply how she poorly perceives herself. She wants to become someone's obsession, she wants someone to want her no matter the definition of the word. Her solution? Become the pinnacle of a final girl -- innocent, pure, "a smile that lights up the room" kind of bullshit. She's purposely tailoring herself into the preferred victim of a rampaging Slasher in the hopes that she'll be targeted, just so that for one brief moment she can imagine what it's like to feel wanted.

It's probably going to end with her getting maimed and/or killed, but maybe then she'll be even more loved in death as such a tragic victim. Maybe if she survives people will crowd around her with their well wishes, regardless of how superficial. The only person who's aware of her plan is...the Slasher himself. Sure, she initially peaked his interest as intended, but now that he's truly stalking her, he's seen what she's genuinely like behind closed doors. Lonely, vulnerable, literally asking for it. He's never had a victim want to run into him, he can't help but be intrigued.

What else is she willing to do in order to appease him? What are the lengths she'll go for his affection? Well, what better way than to find out?

B2) Again, lonely and isolated Final Girl, suddenly finding herself caught up in the Slasher's rampage as his latest obsession. She wishes she could say she's terrified, and she is!! But also this...this is the first time a guy has ever gotten her flowers, even if they're from someone else's grave. This is the first guy to not leer at her, to have a clear vendetta against anyone around her that usually tries to start shit. It's wrong, she knows it's wrong, she knows she should call the police and run for the hills and feel bad for all the innocent people around her being slaughtered.

But when he's standing in her kitchen in the middle of the night, drenched in blood, holding out a gift for her like a puppy dog waiting for approval, she can't help herself. She starts cleaning up the blood he tracked on the floor so that there's no trace of him. When he corners her somewhere, she urges him to go at the sound of police approaching, then tearfully tells them the opposite direction he went. She lies and covers for him even when she really doesn't mean to, even when it's to the risk of other people. Cleans up his messes, destroys evidence, fakes alibis. Can anyone really blame her when this feels like her one and only chance of experiencing something genuine?

[krirebr]

Kris!! I have a vamp!Steve question for you, dear friend. (I know, surprise, surprise. This is what happens every time he steps out of the shadows for 0.5 seconds)

Just a little question about where he draws the line with intimacy. I don’t think promiscuous is the right word, but Steve seems to be a pretty open lover. I’m just wondering where his limit is in these types of situations. Like, obviously he was romantic (as much as he can be?) with Ransom and Bucky, and probably several other lovers, but has anything ever happened with Cole or Cutter? Or does he have some sort of boundary when it comes to trusted workers/friends? Is Steve even capable of having friends?🫣

No pressure to answer, I’m just wondering how much weight he puts on actions like that and whether or not it’s something he ties to romance, or he just views it as something that can make him feel good without tying any emotions to it.

Ok lub ya, bye💗

Ohhh, Essie, babe, I love this question! And I've honestly thought a lot about it.

Steve is very much a "if it feels good, do it," type of guy. I don't think he's interested in limiting himself in any capacity. And sex is very much about power for him (just like everything else). So if he can use physical intimacy to gain power in any way, he's going to do it. It's a vital tool in his toolbox. But don't forget, when it comes down to it, his primary concern in any and all situations is himself and making himself feel good. Sex makes him feel good. Power makes him feel great.

Bucky is a bit of an exception to this rule. I don't think Steve would ever say he's in love with Bucky. Love is a ridiculous human notion that he is well above. But I do think he feels like they're two halves of one whole. Human or vampire or whatever else, in whatever world, they will always belong to each other. No matter how far or how often Bucky runs, that will always be true. Just don't you dare ever call it love.

Ok, so now your actual question. Steve and Cutter have never slept together. She is one of the only people or vampires on the entire planet that Steve actually respects. And she respects him back. So it's just not a tool he's ever felt the need to use with her.

Cole on the other hand... now, that is the question, isn't it? Or as Cutter has said many, many times to others in the inner circle "The fuck is going on with those two???" 🤣 Ok, honestly? I'm really not sure. I want to say no. I'm pretty sure the answer is no. Partly because I just can't picture Steve ever being attracted to someone that pathetic (😬 Sorry, Cole). But their dynamic is just so weird that I can't say for sure. It wouldn't surprise me if they had slept together once or twice (or more) at some point in all this. I don't know! One of the reasons I enjoy writing the two of them so much is because every time I do I discover more about their relationship. So, who knows???? 😅 Hopefully, me, one day.

I hope this at least partly answered your question, Essie! You know I'm always thrilled to get to talk about vampire Steve!

[fateinthestars]

Man, has it really been two months since I did any Character Review/Rambling posts for a specific story/story set?

Well, let's rectify that now!

I could go back to the poll I did, but I'm really surprised to find that I don't appear to have covered the Divine Trip for Two sets yet. They should probably have been an option on the poll!

So let's cover those today. A Divine Trip for Two: Wishes and A Divine Trip for Two: Punishments

The Wishes set contains stories for: Leon, Teorus, Huedhaut, Karno

The Punishments set contains stories for: Scorpio, Dui, Ichthys, Zyglavis

Spoilers under cut

Before we get to the two separate sets, let's briefly cover the prologue which is the same for both.

I don't know what is more amusing here, the king getting them to summon MC who is in her night clothes, the god's reaction to that, or how Partheno and Tauxolouve manage to get themselves (along with Krioff and Aigonorus) out of doing anything for this latest game of the king's. 😂

Hue's 'Well done, you certainly got out of this quickly.' to Tauxolouve - I can't quite make up my mind whether he's irritated at Lou for managing to excuse himself or begrudgingly impressed.

That said: Much as I'm grinning at that exchange, I probably would have preferred for them to make it 12 items rather than 8 and then everyone could have had a story. But it feels like there are very few sets that have all of them - at least this is a four from each side one rather than three.

And yes this is absolutely a game of the king's - not an emergency at all. And Hue seems rather distressed that His Highness has been listening to MC's thoughts again. Just how often does this actually happen??? (Quite a lot knowing the king, but poor Hue).

Oh goodness and then there's how the king gets the others to agree to this... but I'll leave that as a surprise. 😆

Right, before I get way too spoilery about even just the prologue, let's get into the stories themselves shall we?

A DIVINE TRIP FOR TWO: WISHES

Leon: A Treasure Hunt in Singapore

Pfft, Leon always seems like he finds his job a massive chore and yet in other stories it's clear that Karno thinks that Leon makes a better Chief Minister than he ever would have. I'm not sure whether that's Karno's admiration for Leon speaking or his self-doubt pushing him down, or both - but it's interesting how here Leon takes the wishes list with him to do that work as well: He says to MC he's dealing with two 'nusiances' at once, but I'm sure some of the others would have seen it as a chance to avoid work entirely for a bit. That said: granting wishes isn't paperwork. No doubt that's the kind of work he is still ignoring. xD

Also here we have Leon's reaction to the lion head/fish tail statue that is also in one of Ichthys' stories: Leon is totally not amused no matter which option you pick. Ichthys was just completely confused.

What I vaguely recalled of this one was that it seemed somewhat blander than the others in these two sets, but I think that may be more just because these two sets are so strong.

Whilst Leon is still putting the front of not caring about the notion of other people's love it's actually clear from how this goes that he's grown beyond that, and just like one of his Christmas stories I'm still not buying that he's really doing it only for MC's benefit. The fact it makes her happy might be motivation as to why he bothers, but he clearly wanted to make sure this love wish was granted - even if it was, as he said, a lot of effort to go to for a single wish.

I'm 100% sure the king knew exactly what he was doing when he gave Leon this one. This almost feels like it was a further test to make sure the Chief Minister of Wishes really did understand love now.

Teorus: A Treasure Hunt in Germany

Okay I'm sure several of you are already looking worriedly at me so let me allay your fears straight off: This is my second favourite Teorus story. The only Teorus story I rate higher than this is his 'Secret Blessings from the Gods' story.

This story doesn't focus on his jealousy, or his obliviousness at other women crowding him, or his somewhat immature reactions he can have at times. What this story does focus on is his dislike of children. But here it's done equally - in his '12 Loves Light up a Holy Night' story it felt more like his reaction was purely because the children MC was talking to were male and it also bought out his overzealous over-possessiveness that I absolutely hate, whereas here? Here we have a young brother and sister, making a noise at the place MC and Teorus are sightseeing and initially that puts them off.

But then the reason for said children being there is revealed, and both Teorus and MC willingly help them.

And you know... I've just realised something. The kids in this story were trying to do something nice for their mother...

Teo doesn't know his and his father is an ass and oh, now I think I see more why even MC thought he was acting more mature in this one. OUCH. 😭

The ending of this one is just so sweet, and Teo grows a lot here.

Huedhaut: A Treasure Hunt in France

Oh Hue, you just had to leap straight to the teasing didn't you? 😆 But at the same time he's always really sweet. If you get MC to get him to decide what she should wear what he does is give her exactly what kind of thing she was wishing for (the same applies for if you ask for one of the two other options but then MC has said out loud what she's thinking). Other clothing scenes we have in the series always seem more to either be what the god wants or what the god thinks will wind another god up.

What's also interesting here is Hue's remark about this quest not being his usual style - I guess normally he'd make sure he had far more information than the king was willing to divulge here. (A painting of a lady in France indeed, your highness. Sheesh).

I adore Hue and MC's back and forth in this one. MC trying her hardest to outmatch Hue but as per usual it's not really working, but they just seem so perfectly in sync here.

THAT SAID: Hue, look, not everyone is as intelligent as you. I know you admitted afterwards that you were rather nervous due to sensing what you did, but even if you were uncertain about what was going on, don't you think it would have been a good idea to tell MC what was on your mind? What your theory was? Then maybe she wouldn't have even briefly thought that something was affecting you. (Mind you, I'm being hypocritical here, I probably would have acted the same as Hue did... 😅 )

This one is fun, loving, and heart-warming. Pretty much all the option responses here are great too. (Although one seems somewhat incomplete - it doesn't seem to make any sense).

Karno: A Treasure Hunt in Spain

Karno's story here is one of my absolute favourites for him. From protecting the MC from getting hurt and showing his rather scarier side for once, to him and MC working together to work out what to do about a problem regarding someone on both lists, to the solution being related to Karno's divine ability that he is so self-conscious about...

This is just absolutely wonderful and I guess it also shows that they could have done more stuff that focussed directly on the departments' work if they'd wanted to.

Okay now for my re-read thoughts rather than me just blurting out random thoughts before even reloading this one:

In Leon's story he doesn't use his powers to let MC understand the language until it's clear she doesn't know what someone near them is saying, in Teo's MC has to ask what someone is saying for him to make her understand though he does at least explain what he's doing, and in Hue's it never comes up because the one person they speak to is Japanese anyway. Here though? It's nearly as soon as they arrive that Karno makes it so that MC can understand the language and even tells her in advance. Ever reliable, Karno.

Well... I just called him ever reliable, but... um... Karno... did you really just ask someone if they were a 'local human?' that sounds really bizarre! I'm going to presume you were still rather panicked about MC nearly catching fire and angry enough at someone deliberately causing said fire that you didn't think through your wording cos otherwise...

But it is interesting how here we do get to see Karno genuinely angry. He won't stand for things that could get innocent people hurt, especially not when it nearly happened to MC. And yet once they've heard more and MC has calmed him down, we're back into Karno feeling like he can't do anything about the situation despite having all these powers available to him.

As I was saying in my initial thoughts about this one I really like the set up here: someone on both lists (Karno accidentally has the punishments list) and working out what they can do to resolve this when he can't touch anything on the list for the other department. There is a problem with one of the suggestions you can get MC to initially say here though - and the only reason it is a problem is because of the prologue excusing some of the other gods. For Karno's response to work, he really would need to not know where any of the Punishments' Gods are. But that's the fault of the setup before we even get to this story, and in the end that isn't what they need anyway.

*sigh* Karno really doesn't think he's of use does he? Even here it's MC who points out how his divine power might be able to help - at least for the first part. Later it is Karno who uses it of his own volition.

But yeah, I'm trying my hardest not to spoil this story here. It really is a gem, and a very interesting idea.

A DIVINE TRIP FOR TWO: PUNISHMENTS

Scorpio: A Treasure Hunt in Shanghai

Pfft oh Scorpio you really care far more than your irritated forced persona implies. From claiming that you just think walking around would be better than sitting in a stuffy hotel room, to watching MC's reaction to the pandas instead of the pandas yourself... you're being so sweet here.

Actually this whole thing is really touching. Scorpio's even being nice about the Department of Wishes for once!

I may not be that aware of the real life Earth astrology stories but I still like it when they come up here, and I especially like how Scorpio keeps disillusioning MC about other more minor gods. 😂

Like Leon's, the actual issue here might be a little less interesting than Hue's and Karno's, but it is still something important, and thinking on it it was kinda nice that this one had a punishment's god in it and it appeared to be heading in one direction when it really was not that at all.

Dui: A Treasure Hunt In England

Oh Dui 😭 *hugs him tightly* . I swear MC gets into actual physical danger far more when she's with Dui than when she's with anyone else. And this time it only happens because of how much fun she and Dui were having earlier.

Dui's another who actually uses his powers immediately to let MC understand the language. It's clear some thought about that more than others.

As someone from the UK I have to say it's kinda nice seeing these backgrounds of London in SCM 😅 Though it probably helps that Dui is so excited here! His happiness is infectious.

Despite the real danger MC is in in this one I really do like how this one turned out, and Dui? It wasn't your fault, I feel more like your luck is as bad as Hue's! I mean what the king sent you to find here... I think even he was trying to give you a break for once and instead this mess happens. 😭

Ichthys: A Treasure Hunt in Hawaii

Ichthys does actually make MC understand the language pretty quickly here too - once he's stopped being distracted by the sea and sea creatures that is.

But aside from the little fun at the beach at the start of this, this story is utterly heart-wrenching. The parallels between Ichthys and who he and MC are there to help. OUCH.

I think I'm struggling to put anything into words here because I may well have said before how much I relate to Ichthys and this kind of story really isn't helping with that.

This story is great but if you know what Ichthys' main path is like, this is him helping someone who is hiding pain like he used to.

I... I just...

😭

Zyglavis: A Treasure Hunt in New York

Okay let's move on from Ichthys' story before I choke up further, and lets head to Zig's.

Geez, Zig, thanks a lot. I got MC to answer your question diplomatically and this is your reaction. 😂 I adore Zig's snarkiness though. In fact I realised a while back: I seem to like people being sarcastic at me. 😅

Oh but there's sweet Zig immediately afterwards too... a dessert shop where he initially doesn't want anything and then MC points out they have Chocolate Ganache and now he's grappling with himself about it. 😆

Pfft: This reminds me of one of the differences between Huedhaut and Zyglavis actually. Hue is the one getting one up on MC and her grumbling to herself that she can't win with him, with Zig it's the other way around. Even though he has cutting snark it's MC that takes advantage of the situations around them and it's often Zig who thinks she can't win with her. I'm pretty sure if this food scene was in Hue's we would have ended up somewhere where even if others weren't doing it, Hue would have insisted on feeding MC, but here MC tricks Zig into letting her feed him due to where they are, and he's just so flustered and sweet.

Also, Zyglavis is somewhat ignoring the king's mission without MC fully realising it until he brings it up, rather than being vocally upfront like Dui was. I suppose it does make sense that he would go that route here, because it's one of the few times where he hasn't got to think about a million other things to do with work and the departments and the other Zodiac Gods. He might have a fetch quest from the king that he's supposed to be doing, but he also knows they won't be interrupted here. Which is probably why we're getting a more relaxed Zyglavis, even whilst walking about outside.

THAT SAID: I know you thought to let her understand the language after she bought that concern up, and you left your shadow with her so she wouldn't worry about splitting up, but - did you really just rattle off directions in a place MC has never been before so rapidly and then disappear without giving her a chance to even ask you to repeat what you said if necessary?! I know your shadow showed her the way in the end but that initial abruptness must have terrified her. Or at least it did me! (At least he does realise about this, and is part of the resolution later).

Unlike Karno's they actually remember that there are some still working in the heavens in this one, and that's a nice moment in MC's mind. I hope this really was Lou and Aigo's doing.

Overall, this is like a less upsetting version of Dui's. It's a way to get Zyglavis and MC not only to relax but to elucidate their feelings a little more.

It's a very sweet little story.

Okay then... ranking time? Hmm... let's see:

Karno

Huedhaut

Teorus

Ichthys

Zyglavis

Dui

Scorpio

Leon

That was actually really hard to order. Those top four have a lot of interesting moments and could probably be re-ordered or listed as equal first. Then Zig and Dui's are very close and I'm still not sure whether I've put them the right way round. Scorpio and Leon's are great too, but I think for me that probably is where both of those fall.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I know you have so much you are working on and I'm not trying to jump the gun because I cannot wait for the current wips you have - but I have to ask since I just stared at the gif of Buck x Bucky fighting for five minutes straight, if that is something you have ever considered incorporating in TWC?

Oh, hi. Oh yes, oh you just opened Pandora’s box. Lol.

I’d really like to explore many aspects of them and of male sexuality in those times in here. Not pretending I’ll do some grand deep dive but it certainly has already effected certain things in the story -like why Gale is at all drawn to Maureen or trusts her more than others.

Short answer, 100% they’re an ephemeral thing in here already.

I mean? To mention things that already happened: Who watches their friend get a handjob? Who notices said friend is watching and has to remind themselves to pet the girl’s femininely long hair to remind himself it’s not said friend doing it. Who gets so fucking angry at the notion of a friend’s lover calling his sexual incapacity “useless”? Ok, ok actually even a friend would likely get mad but you get the point. Bucky is fucking tuned into this relationship.

In my head for TWC, Gale has acknowledged to himself that he is attracted to men. Before the war.

Whether he blames that attraction -and he does blame it, because lord knows he hasn’t got a gracious explanation for it- on youthful abuse or poor upbringing, I dunno, but he certainly tries to give it a scientific explanation and lock it down. The homoerotic poetry is a lapsing indulgence, m’kay? And a necessary one once he meets John Egan who doesn’t seem to be a pansy so much as a fella who never met a body he didn’t love -gender be damned.

In my head so far, I don’t imagine there’s been any action or any declaration of feelings before the camp. They are devoted. They are The Buckies. John sleeps around, Gale is secretly fraternizing, it is what it is.

Then the camp happens. Gale’s new trauma hardly comes as a surprise to himself, and Bucky would be a fool not to guess at it when he himself can admit just how beautiful his boy is. Except the boy ain’t his, not really. But Gale’s internal war regarding his abuse and his already established attraction is gonna be a big thing for him. And something Egan will eventually be essential to properly differentiating.

I hope even some of this made sense. I’m babbling but it’s a big ole plot arc I haven’t had the chance to gab about before.

And to throw in some poor, collateral John Brady into the mix is par for the course.

[tb5-heavenward]

Hello!!!!! Just read your fic 'Talented Amateurs' and its soooo totally awesome and the writing is AMAZINGGGG!!!

I completely understand if you're not planning on finishing it but was wondering if you had any ideas about the ending you'd thought of? Was super curious as to how the rest would pan out!!!

Thank you <333333

oh man, I am sorry for how absent I have been lately! I have actually spent the past few years moving home to Canada from the USA, and getting settled at home again with my family. I've been split between semi-single parenthood, immigrating my husband from his home country back to mine, and then three or four different jobs across two different countries, depending upon how one counts that, and the rigamarole of generally getting life back into a manageable state. I've been through so many big changes over the past few years that I more or less have to conceptualize just the whole first half of my thirties as having been about just Getting Settled.

As to TA and writing in general, I would love to get back to it someday, the nature of writing for me is that I do end up taking long breaks in order to Live Life for periods of a few years at a time, but I always do mean to come back. I don't want to promise anything, but theoretically things will start to settle back into a real and actual routine in the latter half of 2024, as I whittle my days back down to just working one job, taking care of one household, and having my kid back in school for the bulk of the day.

It's not the only big project or big property I squared myself up against, but it is one that has a very clear roadmap of a plot in my head, so no fear there. As far as Heavenward having been kind of a jumping off point for what I thought the most interesting aspects of TAG Season 1 were, talented amateurs was really the same as far as what I thought about where Season 2 left things, and where I would have gone with what I thought was the other most interesting aspect of the show as a whole, that is to say Penny/Gordon, and the notion of the whole cast as adults with relationships.

The most terrifying thing about TA as it exists right now is that it's maybe only about 30% of the story I ever intended to tell, which speaks to just how awful it is to have my brain. Basically, the intent was always for it to be three parts long, each about 200k words, one for each trimester of the pregnancy it centers around, and for that to unfold in ways that I thought would be entertaining. As a story it is genuinely never far from my head or my heart (I reread it myself with embarrassing frequency) and the broad strokes of the answer to that question of where it goes next actually hinge on whether or not Jeff Tracy is alive or dead in TA's version of the TAG universe, and I never quite settled that question for myself. After how long it's been though, I think I at least have enough perspective to know which way I'm leaning.

I'm very much due for a rewatch of the series, and hopefully I can carve out time sometime soon to make that happen.

As far as something that may or may not resemble a glimmer of hope for a future where I get my ass back in gear, here's a cut and the first half of the chapter I left off in the middle of writing, for whatever that's worth!

61 - knit and purl

Grandma Tracy hasn't had much to knit in a while, and her fingers ache slightly, her muscle memory for the task having gone somewhat to rust. There's no great call for hats and scarves in the South Pacific, no one particularly in need of cableknit when there's Gore-tex and nanofleece to be had. Still, it had all come back quickly enough, and the bag she'd brought with her is no longer full of knitting needles and yarn, but of a gift for her grandson.

Not, crucially, the one whose birthday it actually is, though she'd caught Alan's sideways glances and nods of approval during the flight over, so it's not as though she thinks he minds.

Alan is presently in the process of very carefully putting TB2 down in an empty patch of farmland alongside a dirt road stretching between two fields. The windbreak around the farmhouse is in sight, as is the hulking green pickup truck rumbling along the road towards their appointed landing coordinates. From over her shoulder, Grandma Tracy can feel the intensity of Virgil's silent attention where he leans forward in one of the passenger seats, not wanting to backseat drive, but equally not wanting Alan to fudge the landing. John's still down in the cargo bay, hopefully buckled in.

Grandma isn't worried, though she can see her youngest grandson's tongue caught between his teeth and poking out between his lips as he concentrates. When the Thunderbird finally settles gently to the earth below, she watches him let out a great big breath and grin to himself, and when he glances across the cockpit towards her, she can tell he's after reassurance, and she's only too happy to oblige. "Nicely done, kiddo."

"Not too bad," Alan agrees, though his smile widens at the praise. He pushes his seat back, unbuckling his harness and stretching before hoisting himself upright and clambering back into the cabin proper. "I'm gonna get changed. You okay, Virg?"

Virgil's slept most of the flight through, and could probably do to get up and move around himself, but with his leg still in a cast and TB2's interior not exactly friendly to those in a state of reduced mobility, he's going to need help getting up and out of the ship. "Fine, Al. Good job. Give Grandma a hand before you go."

Grandma Tracy waves Alan away as he turns around, already extending a hand in her direction. "No, no, I'll sit a minute. Go get in your civvies, sweetheart. We're not in a hurry."

Alan shrugs and reverses course, giving Virgil's shoulder a light punch as he passes by, heading for the lockers and showers tucked back behind the cockpit. Virgil looks mildly disgruntled to have been overruled, but his expression softens slightly when Grandma turns in her seat to give him a gently knowing smile. "Hard to be back in your bird and not be the one flying, hm?"

"It sucks."

There's a blunt, uncharacteristic bitterness there that's hard to miss, the past few weeks have been hard on Virgil, in no small measure because they've been hard on his brothers. The pressure release of Gordon's circumstances seems to have done little to improve Virgil's mood, and it's hard to tell if he wants attention drawn to his attitude. She suspects not, and doesn't comment, only nods sympathetically. "Well, we're all on the ground now, and you can take it easy for a while."

This gets no better answer than an non-committal grunt, and the fact that Virgil's been taking it easy for weeks now hangs in the air, obvious but unstated, and then dissipates into nothingness as the cargo lift hums from behind them, and John returns from the lower cargo bay, with the little plexiglass sphere that houses his AI companion held loosely in one hand. "Al getting changed?" he asks, stooping slightly as he moves through the cockpit, coming to the front just in time to offer his grandmother a hand to her feet.

"Showering first," Grandma informs him, and accepts his help to stand and stretch. "Help an old lady back down to terra firma, won't you, dear?"

"Of course," John answers immediately, and offers his arm in a solicitous and genteel fashion, at odds with the way he's often written off as cold and distant. There's a rarely seen streak of gentility in John, most often only seen by his grandmother, who has the fortune of being one of the few recipients of his softer affections. Her hand on his arm is steadied when his palm closes lightly over her fingers, and he contrives to help her aboard the cargo lift in a way that doesn't make her feel doddering and weak. "I'll be back for you in a minute, Virgil, unless Alan gets you first," John attempts to tell his younger brother, but the only response is another dismissive grunt, and this is lost in the hydraulic hum of the cargo lift.

"Never mind about him," Grandma says, tipping her head lightly against her grandson's shoulder when he sighs aloud. "Gordon will cheer him up one way or the other, mark my words."

[themculibrary]

Transgender Tony Stark Masterlist

Anthony and Natasha (ao3) - TheCityLightShow steve/tony, mentioned sam/bucky G, 4k

Summary: On Steve's sixteenth birthday, as was the norm, he woke up with a name on his wrist, etched beautifully into his skin. In blocky, scruffy handwriting now sat “Natasha Stark” on his left wrist.

It was elegant handwriting, but not in a way that anyone other than Steve would share the notion.

Now, he's out of the ice, and he lifts his wrist to his face as his vision swims for a second. Oh thank god, he thinks at the sight of the black blur that mars his wrist, and then his thought processes stutter and screech to halt because it's changed.

The handwriting is still the blocky scruffy script that he loves, that holds comfort for him in the cross of the t and the arc of the r, but it's not Natasha. It doesn't say Natasha Stark any more.

No, the name on his wrist is Anthony Stark.

This time – this new time, Director Fury explains to him, this time sixty seven years in the future – this time he will find him. Whether they're ninety like he should be, or closer to his actual age, Steve won't make the same mistake twice.

He doesn't tell SHIELD that the name in their file is now wrong.

Antoniette (ao3) - sleepingnerd T, 1k

Summary: Tony Stark, who is born under the name of Antoniette Stark.

Authenticity (ao3) - On_Every_Spectrum clint/tony, clint/phil T, 5k

Summary: "Howard wasn't ever going to win father of the year in anyone's book. Including his own child's. He was more interested in the image of having a son than, you know, his actual son. So, Tony figured he better thank his lucky stars that it was a son that Howard had so desperately wanted. A son he'd longed for."

by the light of your soul (ao3) - viklikesfic (v_angelique) bucky/tony E, 5k

Summary: “I’m forty-two,” Tony turns to lean back against the counter and gestures vaguely up and down his body as he takes a sip. “Odds are pretty low, Cap.” He doesn’t add that it would be a nightmare if he did have a soulmate, because they’d likely be attracted to the wrong version of himself, to the wrong gender, and Tony is not willing to have that conversation. He’s the most famous trans man in the world. He transitioned soon after Howard and Maria died, relieved that no one had given him that spark, trapped in a body that never felt like it fully belonged to him. He then spent the next sixteen years focused on making superior weapons technology and trying to convince Obidiah Stane to respect him. He hates himself for that.

He won’t play girl for his soulmate. He’d sooner die.

Cashmere, Cologne, and White Sunshine (ao3) - Anonymous rhodey/tony E, 5k

Summary: Rhodey takes Tony home one night after a party, and it's the first time they have sex, and it's Tony's first time with a guy, and it's the first time he tells somebody that he's a guy.

(To Rhodey's credit, this is not exactly news.)

Challenging Authority (ao3) - rocknrollout steve/tony T, 9k

Summary: On May 29th, Maria Stark went into labor. The baby was perfectly healthy and after 5.3 hours, the doctor was able to hold up a bright red, wriggling baby and announce that Howard and Maria Stark now had a perfect baby girl.

That was when problems started to arise.

Error Not Found (ao3) - dirty_spidy G, 2k

Summary: Tony didn’t really care when he heard her name for the first time. It is a common name after all, and it’s not even the same name exactly - just another variation of it. He decided to ignore it, for the sake of his sanity. Even if his heart stopped for a moment.

Heroes are Made (ao3) - periwinklepromise background clint/natasha T, 2k

Summary: “Team,” Tony announces in his usual, grandiose manner, “May I introduce you to myself?”

No Offense (ao3) - orphan_account pepper/natasha, sam/bucky, bruce/thor, steve/tony T, 3k

Summary: Tony thought that with going to this new school he wouldn't have to be worried about being deadnamed, boy, was he wrong. He does find some fantastic new friends though.

Not Merely a Mistake (ao3) - hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) T, 1k

Summary: When Tony pushes the limits of his health a little too far, Steve learns a secret Tony has kept close to the chest for too long.

Oh, Kiddo (ao3) - Nickies_Nonsense G, 2k

Summary: Peter Parker is experiencing intense gender dysphoria and thinks no one will understand - but Tony does, very much.

Shave You Smooth (ao3) - Willowe T, 1k

Summary: Howard never said as much, but Tony knows he always wanted a son.

Stained (ao3) - Ironstrange3000 tony/stephen T, 2k

Summary: Tony Stark has lived stealth all his life, and thought he'd live out his life without anyone knowing how he was born. But as it was proven to him time and time again, the past always finds ways to haunt us.

When he's outed to the world on the same day his period makes a re-appearance, how will he face Stephen?

Stiletto Heart (ao3) - lusilly G, 2k

Summary: In which Tony, before his first public appearance after the removal of the arc reactor, reflects on surgeries, dysphoria, and how fucking good he looks in these heels.

'Tony' Isn't Short for Anthony (ao3) - bankslucius57gmailcom G, 1k

Summary: Toni isn't short for Anthony. It was never short for Anthony. Toni isn't short for anything.

Slow day at the headquarters.

Nail polish.