Marinette finally gathers up the courage and confesses.
‘I’m sorry,’ Adrien tells her.
She can’t say she’s surprised. Funny, she should be breaking into pieces right about now. She can’t face him properly (not that she could before), but there’s something about his voice that makes her look up.
He looks as wrecked as she feels. And she remembers that this isn’t just about her and her feelings. Adrien has lost so much already. He’s lost his mom. In a way, he’s lost his dad too. He grasps people like a kid with toys he doesn’t want to share, as if that could prevent them from leaving him. She won’t leave him, she vows. She tells him as much.
Smile watery, but composed, it’s as eloquent as she’s ever been with him. ‘We’ll still be friends Adrien, don’t worry.’ She means it, but why doesn’t he look happy?
It’s a bit unfair she thinks. She’s the one who got rejected, so why does he look like the one who had his heart broken?
But Marinette has been selfless for other people before. She can certainly be selfless for the boy she loves.
Later, Chat Noir comes to visit her on her balcony. The same balcony he inadvertently confessed to loving her, or loving Ladybug at least. Ironic how that works. Her chaton has impeccable timing. How does he always know to appear when she needs saving?
At his lost look, she shatters.
The dam breaks open, the floodgates let loose, she grasps at him, hands scrambling trying to hold on to something or else she’ll drown. She just might with how hard she’s crying. It’s near painful, it feels like she’s coughing out her own soul.
She needs something solid to ground her. She needs her partner, the same boy she’d trust with her life, the person who can understand perfectly how she feels. She’d made sure of it.
Chat Noir is without quips, without puns, only holds her tight and strong, as tightly and as desperately as she’s holding him that it would have hurt to breathe if everything hadn’t been hurting already. He’s silent, except for mutterings that are too low for her to hear.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry…’
She meant it when she said that she and Adrien would still be friends. She would never give his friendship up. She tries to move on. Marinette owes it herself and to Adrien. Tries being the operative word. Whenever Adrien smiles shyly at her or casually brings an arm around her shoulder before hastily retracting it as if forgetting himself, Marinette’s breath catches and she has to start all over again. But she’s a tryer by nature.
She would have thought in this scenario, she’d be more awkward, but it’s as if their positions have reversed. It’s Adrien who stumbles over his words now, trips on air, when around her. But she thinks their friendship will survive her disastrous confession. Now when Adrien smiles at her, she can smile back without having to think about it. Their hands had touched for a moment before he’d tangled their fingers, looking confused at having done so. She squeezed his briefly before letting go. It’ll be alright. They’ll be alright. Whatever this was might not be love, but this was good.
Alya tells her that the best way to move on is to find someone new. She’s adamant that Marinette find someone who sees her for how special she was, and though something still lances up her chest whenever she looks at Adrien, she gives it serious consideration. With Adrien, her heart squeezes, and with someone else, her heart lightens.
Falling in love with Chat Noir was easy, easy as falling asleep, done in an instant that she scarcely knew when it happened. Or maybe she had always been in love with him.
Time passes. Her heart has been bruised once, of course she’s scared, but she’s not one of Paris’ greatest heroes for nothing. She trusts Chat Noir with her life. Couldn’t she also trust him with her heart?
So, she tries again.
‘Chat Noir, do you love me?’
‘I think..’ she heaves in a big breath as if preparing to jump off a roof, ‘I think I might come to love you too.’
He looks stunned as if she hit him with his own baton. He clenches his fists so tight, she’d be worried he’d hurt himself with his own claws, and screws his eyes shut. He grits out, sounding broken and defeated,
Whatever remains of her shattered heart breaks into a billion pieces. Will she ever be able to put it back together again?
She’s surprised. When she was Marinette, she had been resigned. She’d been expecting it, but she didn’t expect this. Had she been so cocky? Pinpricks of shame and sorrow grip her heart. She’s in such turmoil that she almost doesn’t hear Chat Noir, until he laughs. Hysterically.
It’s the kind of laugh that’s actually a sob, and when she looks up, Marinette sees tears streaming down her partner’s face, painting silver lines on his black mask. Her chaton’s sorrow cuts sharply into the fog of insecurity and self-doubt she’d been drowning in.
‘You shouldn’t Milady.’ He grips his blond hair tightly in both his hands. He looks almost half-mad. ‘I don’t deserve you. Either of you.’
Oh, there’s someone else, she thinks distantly.
He looks at her, pleading, begging for something through his eyes, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but I fell in love. I fell in love and she confessed to me but I couldn’t say yes like I wanted to. She doesn’t deserve one-half of a heart, and you don’t either.’ He looks down, stance tense, waiting for her divine judgment.
Marinette softens. Despite his self-flagellation, she knows her chaton is good and kind. Her friendship with Adrien weathered unrequited love, and her partnership with Chat Noir will too. But her heart still feels like lead. Trying for levity, to bring back their normalcy through banter, she asks jokingly, ‘So who’s the lucky girl?’ If her voice stutters and breaks, she hopes Chat Noir ignores it.
Of course he doesn’t, but he obliges, ‘I don’t know how lucky she is having been cursed with me, but she’s been lucky for me. You actually know her Ladybug,’ he pulls out something from his pocket, ‘I fell in love with the girl who gave me this charm. I fell in love with Marinette. The both of you have been the lucky charms that have kept me going all this time. Thank you.’ There, lying innocently in his hand, something pink and familiar.
For another time once again, Marinette has her whole breath punched right of her.
There are no adequate words to answer him. Hands trembling, whole body trembling, she draws the matching blue charm from out of her own pocket. Side by side, they look like yin-and-yang. He gasps.
She’s the one crying now. No, they both are. Laughing, and crying, and sobbing, they can’t reach each other fast enough, until they finally do, twin charms crushed between their bodies, between their hearts, no longer broken, but merged into one.
okay so where do I begin…WOW.
okay so… on Monday October 3rd at 10:25pm, I was sitting on my phone in my room listening to holy ground and I was on twitter and BOOM. “TAYLOR NATION SENT YOU A DIRECT MESSAGE” I STARTED SHAKING AND CRYING WHEN I READ THE CONFIDENTIAL MESSAGE I WAS SO CONFUSED BECAUSE THEY DONT EVEN FOLLOW ME (yes I’m still trying to work out technology ok) AND I FLIPPED OUT AND I RAN INTO MY MOMS ROOM SOBBING AND I TRIPPED OVER THE HOOVER BUT ITS OKAY. MY MOM WAS SAYING ALL SORTS OF THINGS LIKE SOMEONE MAY HAVE HACKED INTO TAYLOR NATIONS ACCOUNT (?????? idk). Anyway I died and my mind was a mess and I couldn’t control myself at all, I had knew what it usually meant when people got these messages and I explained everything to my mom ( she is genuinely worst-case-scenario-Christine ) and she started crying with happiness for me. THAT DAY WILL ALWAYS BE REMEMBERED.
The next day October 4th at 5:27pm, I was (trying) to study when BOOM. I RECEIVED THE CALL. Ali phoned and told me about a special secret event on Friday the 13th of October and I was shaking so so much and could barely even talk but she was honestly the nicest ever (I noticed she said “wonderful” about a million times and I’m now so in love with that word). Side note: My mom still wasn’t really convinced this wasn’t a set up to get me kid napped but SHE FINALLY CALMED DOWN A LITTLE AND MEANWHILE I WAS SHAKING, CRYING AND BASICALLY DEAD.
Okay so then it was the waiting game…the days DRAGGED in as I found out a whole 10 DAYS before the event and I saw Taylor lurk people on tumblr/Instagram AND she liked the post about me and my best friend Eve. PEOPLE WERE ALSO TALKING ABOUT WHAT COULD HAPPEN ON THE 13TH AND I WAS JUST SITTING THERE LIKE HELP ME WHATS GON HAPPEN.
Fast forward to Friday…so because I live in Glasgow I had to fly to London… I COULDNT SLEEP AT ALL AND I ONLY GOT 4 HOURS SLEEP LOL BECAUSE I GOT UP AT 4AM. We went to the airport and I was genuinely so nervous and excited about what could possibly be happening. We then got a bus and then a tube and wandered about Covent Garden and EVERYTHING kept reminding me of Taylor. We then got a tube and another bus ( NUMBER 13 ) to our hotel. I got really stressed out because I opened up my case and there was makeup spilt on my dress BUT MY MOM CAME TO THE RESCUE AND FIXED IT FOR ME. I curled my hair and fixed myself up then I went to out to the secret meeting point and recognized so many people from tumblr/twitter etc and it was SO surreal. ALSO A FEW PEOPLE CAME UP TO ME AND WERE LIKE OMG ABBIE I KNOW YOU AND THAT MADE ME FEEL SO SO SPECIAL SO I LOVE YOU FOR THAT IF THAT WAS YOU. We checked in and got really cool wristbands saying United Kingdom (IN THE REPUTATION FONT) I WAS ALREADY DEAD.
We went to drop off our bags and me and I met 2 beautiful, amazing girls called Emma ( @taylorsmusic ) and Flora ( @spoookyswift ) and we were FREAKING OUT TOGETHER. We just couldn’t comprehend that we could potentially meet our idol. We talked about everything and I genuinely think I have 2 new best friends for life. I LOVE YOU GUYS. We were on the last bus to leave so we waited foreverrrr and my nerves were building up so much and I was FULL ON ALL OVER SHOOK.
Everyone on the bus was SO EXCITED and we were all dying together. It was such a combination of nerves and excitement like I can’t even describe it. So we FINALLY arrived at our secret destination and were escorted to the entrance to be searched etc (there was a big box of socks for some reason and it made us laugh so just thought I’d add that in and also a few half finished smart water bottles👀).
Okay so then we went through to TAYLORS HOUSE. It was beautiful and there was so much food laid out and I had a REPUTATION COOKIE and CUSTOMIZED REPUTATION M&MS and CHICKEN TENDERS. Taylors playlist of the songs she loves was playing in the background and we were LOVING LIFE. (Side note: my mom loved the olives you put out taylor so thanks for that) So basically me, Emma and Flora were chilling together (we were not chill at all tho) and everything was fine THEN Flora goes “oh my god, that’s Scott” AND IM LIKE WTF AND WE ALL LOOK OVER AND DIE LIKE WHAT WAS HAPPENING BEFORE OUR VERY EYES THE KING OF GUITAR PICS WAS HERE. We went and spoke to more amazing people and life was good…THEN TREE COMES THROUGH AND IM LIKE WHATATSTSS THATS A LEGEND THEN NOT LONG AFTER THAT WE SEE ANDREA AND WE ALL DIED. I CRIED WHEN I SEEN ANDREA IDK WHY IT JUST GOT TOO MUCH AND SHES MY QUEEN. IT GENUINELY FELT LIKE A DREAM LIKE SURELY THIS WAS NOT REAL.
Finally, after a while, we went through to THE LIVING ROOM. YES. A CHAIR. A SPEAKER. WE ALL KNEW WHAT THIS WAS. ME, EMMA AND FLORA HAD A LITTLE SUPPORT NETWORK GOING ON BECAUSE WE WERE ALL HOLDING HANDS BECAUSE WE WERE NOT PREPARED AT ALL. I cried - yeah she wasn’t even here yet and I cried. So anyway THEN I’m like I can’t even do this and my heart is beating abnormally fast. And that’s when she appeared…
I COULDNT BELIEVE MY EYES. MY ANGEL. MY EVERYTHING. GENUINELY LIKE A METER AWAY. NO WAY. Okay so then I SOBBED even more and I was uncontrollable (I finally did calm down but omg it was so hard I couldn’t stop crying) - thank you Emma and Flora for helping me LOL. Side note: her hair was so curly and pretty and she wore this camo dress thing and SNAKE BOOOOOOTS and a snake ring and yeah I was like GO GURLLL. IN THAT MOMENT I DIED IT WAS ACTUALLY HAPPENING.
On to the album, obviously you guys understand I can’t say much at all BUT REPUTATION IS MY FAVOURITE ALBUM BY FARRRRR. Like it’s genuinely so different but so genius - it’s incredible. She’s so talented and you can tell she’s worked so super hard for it and I can tell she’s happier than ever through the way she talks and she just seems so content with life and it makes me so proud and happy of how far she’s came. It’s so emotionally complex and THE LYRICS (she’s a genius okay). But there was one song that made me full on SOB and everyone in that room felt something…ANYWAY Taylor herself, during the whole of the session, she was so funny and she’s just so genuine…it was unreal. UNREAL. Some highlights that stand out to me include when during one of the songs she looked right at me for about 20 seconds or so and we just danced and smiled at each other. IVE NEVER FELT SO LOVED IN MY LIFE. To say I’m proud of her for this album is an understatement.
okay so then….IT WAS MEET AND GREET TIME. We were all sitting reading the magazines and talking to each other and it was adorable and even though I was a nervous wreck, everyone was so nice and amazing towards me. When it was time for the picture I was at the waiting point I can’t tell you how I felt. It was indescribable. I seen the 2 girls before me hug Taylor goodbye and it was my turn. I ran up to her and hugged her so hard and she looked at me and went “ITS ABBIE ISNT IT?” AND I WAS NODDING AND I WAS LIKE YEAH ITS ME and she was like “NO WAY I CHOSE YOU LIKE A YEAH AGO LIKE SOOOO LONG AGO” and I was like NO WAY and then I was like “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YOUVE HELPED ME THROUGH, YOU’VE HONESTLY GOT ME THROUGH SO MUCH” and she was listening so intently and she smiled at me and hugged me and we held hands for a few seconds which was BEAUTIFUL and she was like “you are SO beautiful like SO beautiful and you are SO funny like you’re posts are hilarious” and I started shaking and I told her she was like a big sister to me and then we got a really cute huggy picture and then we got one with my mom which was cute and THEN (THIS WAS THE FUNNIEST MOMENT) the camera guy said to my mom “do you want a pic alone with her” and my mom was like “oh it’s okay I’m just her mom” and TAYLOR WAS LIKE" OH WELL THANKS" IT WAS SO FUNNY. THEN I told her I loved her and she was like I LOVE YOU BUDDY and I gave her one final hug before I left which was MAGICAL (I swear we hugged about 27468273 times).
As soon as I left the room, I BURST INTO TEARS I COULDN’T BELIEVE I HAD JUST MET MY IDOL AFTER LIKE 6 YEARS OF LOVING HER AND FANGIRLING OVER HER. My mom went to talk to mama swift and she said to her “thank you so much for making a beautiful, amazing role model for my daughter” and mama swift was like AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH THEN MY MOM GAVE HER A HUG AND THEN I GAVE HER A HUGE HUG AND MAMA SWIFT WAS LIKE THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING HER AND DOING THE CRAZY THINGS SHE MAKES YOU DO AND I CRIED MORE.
WE THEN WENT TO GET OUR MERCH AND GET ON THE BUS AND I WAS GENUINELY STARSTRUCK AND ME AND EMMA JUST KEPT LOOKING AT EACH OTHER AND BEING LIKE DID THAT REALLY JUST HAPPEN?!?!?!
Thank you so so so much for inviting me to your London Secret Session - it was an HONOR to be there. I can’t believe I was given such a beautiful, amazing opportunity and I meant everything I said to you in there and it truly came from the heart. I love you so much and I can’t wait to hopefully see you on tour. You mean the world to me and I can’t wait to hear reputation again and DIE ANOTHER MILLION DEATHS.
I love you so much girl.
To SHINee ❤️: To Onew, Key, Minho, Taemin and to Jonghyun, an angel who is no longer with us. There are so many things I want to thank you all for but I am terrible at expressing myself and so I will try to keep this short and simple. I just want to say that I am so thankful for your existence in my life. As someone who has been your fan since the start, I grew up listening to your music and have watched your growth not only as people but as artists from your music as SHINee to your music as solo artists. You have all worked so hard and this is shown through you and your music as well as through your awards and achievements. And I am so proud of each and every one of you. Thank you so much for your music. Your music has helped me more than you’ll ever know. Whether I’m having a bad day or a good day, there’s always a SHINee song playing as background music. You have made me so happy and I only hope that you all are happy always. Thank you. Also, being your fan since the start, I feel like I have gotten to know you all as people. You have all become such lovely people. This might sound silly but growing up with you over the years doesn’t really feel to me like a fan watching their favourite group but feels more like a friend watching over their other friends and going through the good times and the bad times with them. I have always admired you and have aspired to become like you. There’s something about each of you that I really love. You’re all amazing individually but even more amazing as a group. Thank you for making me happy. Thank you for making me smile. Thank you for making me laugh. And thank you for making me cry. Thank you for everything. I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard. I will always support you with whatever you do. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Thank you to the five of you. This is for you. Sincerely, a Shawol.
To Jonghyun ❤️: Thank you for everything. You’ve worked so hard. And I’m so proud of you. I love you and I miss you. I will never forget you. I will remember you as Kim Jonghyun, the man overflowing with talent. From your lyrics to your compositions to your heavenly vocals, you were so talented. You loved music more than anyone else and I am so happy that you got to achieve so much through your music. I hope that you know that your music has given me and so many others so much happiness. Thank you. I will remember you as Kim Jonghyun, my favourite human. You are someone who I have always wanted to be like. You stood up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. You spoke out for those who couldn’t speak up for themselves. You were an angel on earth and now an angel in heaven. You were an inspiration to me and to many others. From the way you treat your members, your friends and family, your fans and anyone around you, I can say that you’re really a good person. Thank you for the music and the memories. Jonghyun, I’m so sorry that you suffered so much. I hope that you are finally free from the pain and that you have found your happiness. You’ve worked so hard. I am so proud of you. Rest well. I’ll always love you and I’ll always miss you. I will never forget you. Though you are no longer here, you haven’t really left. You are the stars, the moon, the sun, the light. I can always look up and see you there looking down on me. You will always be in our hearts and our minds. Thank you and I’m sorry.
To Onew, Key, Minho and Taemin ❤️: I don’t know what else to say except that I’m sorry. I can’t sit here and act like I understand what you are going through because honestly, I will never understand what you are going through. But I do hope that you do whatever you need to do to get through this. I know that it’s not easy to lose someone that you love, especially through this way, but I like to think that Jonghyun is finally free somewhere up there smiling and resting on top of a cloud. It’s going to be hard and no one can say if it will get better or worse but I do hope that you get through this. Above everything, your health is the most important so I do hope that you take all the time that you need to heal. Take care always. I will support you with whatever you do. Thank you for everything. You’ve worked hard and I’m proud of you. Thank you and I’m sorry.
lance: hey babe do you wanna see how big of a nerd i am lmao
keith: i’m scared but ok
lance: *pulls out a yu gi oh card deck*
keith: are those-
lance: you bet your beautiful ass it’s what you think they are, i even have the blue eyes white dragon one and i had to fight my brother for it and hold on let me get my ruler…… it’s 5 inches tall! see look!!!!
keith, losing his shit: SCREENSHOT SCREENSHOT SCREENSHOT SCREENS-
lance: did i ever tell you about how i had a pet turtle when i was little?
keith: yeah why?
lance: well not gonna lie but when i was little my dad told me it ran away when i was at school and i believed him but now i’m thinking about it because how could my turtle have ran away if it was a turtle? turtles can’t run? do you think he was lying? babe? babe do you think he was lying? do you-
keith, while on the phone after having a crying session: and i don’t know i just don’t feel important sometimes? like does he really care about me? why does he ignore me all the time?
lance, who’s on the other end trying not to laugh and comfort his boyfriend: well maybe it’s because he’s a literal newborn baby-
(at the mall window shopping for christmas gifts)
*passes by a store*
keith: babe, wait! can we go in this store?
*a hot topic logo threatens lance*
lance: of course! we can do whatever makes you happy! :)
keith: *smiles at lance and proceeds straight to the supern*tural section*
lance: hey i’m in koreatown w my friends and they’re selling dragon ball z stickers for a dollar per packet, do you want some?
keith: how big are they?
lance: idk like regular sized stickers?
keith: ok get me some so i can put them on my motorcycle, but don’t spend all your money on the stickers!!
lance @ the cashier ignoring what keith told him:
(in the local target)
lance: the store logo reminds me of bow and arrows! i really wanna buy a bow and arrow so i can be like that disney movie bear girl….
keith: oh! you mean brave?
lance, who’s first language isn’t english: of course i’m brave! why else would i buy a bow and arrow? i’m not scared of them! i can use them to kill intruders!
keith, after cooking bacon for the first time and has absolutely no idea what to do w the excess grease: hey can you help me poor the grease down the sink? the pan is too heavy
lance: huh? can i what now? what are you gonna do? wh-
keith, who found a way to poor it in the sink without lance’s help: pouring it in the sink?
lance, an educatated person who knows you Shouldn’t Do That:
i love his nihilism tat like the font and stuff.. when you can see it poking out of the shirt/tank hes wearing….wow
THE WAY HE SAYS “보고 싶다” (I miss you (i think…. im not fluent. at all.)) in #wyd during that montage of him in the aforementioned outfit. WOW.
he always gets worked up when anyone mentioned junhoe and hanbyul together in the same sentence its great
his nonagon pics
tablo says his insta is, along with will smith’s, the funniest profile on the site and is like a webtoon (highkey agree)
oH MY GOD HIS LAUGH! HIS LAUGH ITS SO SWEET AND GOOD AND HIS LAUGH NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME LAUGH
lol that time he paused an interview to specifically say that hanbyul IS NOT junhoe’s AND THE FACE HE PULLED WHILE SAYING IT
when he perfectly executed a bottle flip and went “easy”
idk if im the only one who sees it? but his lips are kinda heartshaped? like my eyes when i see him?
asshole kept taking his shirt off during japan concerts i hate him bye
“oh everything is english… i cant speak english” (jinhwan voice: wow)
can finally break an apple with his hands (not without like a lot of random grunting)
1/3 of the clean roommates
predebut billionaire cover
when he beatboxed during win era and sounded like ? drums? exactly like drums and a bunch of other instruments and could do more than one at a time yeah thats. amazing. (also his pink glasses and blue cardigan while he went hard beatboxing were so great)
those airport pics from forever ago where he wore that black v-neck and his hair was black and over his eyes and oof
he has a really beautiful neck
sometimes sleeps in his studio :( (FINALLY HAS A STUDIO WITH A WINDOW!)
love scenario was inspired by like the last 10 minutes of la la land and the fact that that is what inspired him is absolutely breathtakingly beautiful to me… his mind. is beautiful.
loves South America
once spelled iKON as IKNO. its his own damn group oof
lets go slowly but for a long time!
that time hE WAS ABOUT TO START RAPPING AND BOBBY LOWERED HANBINS MIC FOR HIM AND HE COULD HEAR THE FANS DO HIS PART AND GOD! HIS SMILE HIS SMILE HIS S M I L E IT REACHED HIS EYES AND I THINK ABOUT IT EVERYDAY
on a more serious note - he ran away during Mix&Match as he felt too overloaded and only returned because he felt cold… wished he could’ve gone all the way to busan. i really do love and support hiim, and i wish him the best - i hope he feels less overwhelmed, at the very least, now, and more at peace with where he’s at in his life currently.
really love his two front teeth
THIS GIF (creds to @gnhwan) this is my favorite gif of him because he’s so beautiful? just as a person he is beautiful and the way his cheeks lift and his eyes shine when he laughs is too much for me he is an ANGEL also thats my fav hairstyle of his id say and just everything about the gif. legend. (the gifmaker? also a legend.)
climbed a coconut tree. fear of heights kicked in. good going bin. (<3)
like i know for sure ive mentioned this already but like. he writes poetry. thats just so……….good… hes really out here handing us his still beating heart and telling us to take care of him
cares more about his music than charting and really truly wants us to like the art he puts out because he pours his all into it
that time he said that hes really good at writing depressing lyrics during mix&match… i really want to hug him
i love it when he wears sunglasses
the way he looks when talking about things hes passionate about or people he loves… i cant really describe it im just a mere mortal but hes so dedicated and committed to everything and everyone around him and i am so lucky to be existing in the same timeline and universe as him thank you for coming to my ted talk and stream love scenario
it all began when taylor nation followed me on tumblr on october 11th. they then messaged me on tumblr on saturday night. i’m not going to go into detail about the message because it’s *confidential*. 👀 they then called me the next day and told me i was invited to a secret event in nashville and asked if i’d like to attend, i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to make it on such short notice but my mom told me accept the invite and that we’d figure a way to get there. we dropped everything and started driving to nashville on tuesday morning and got to nashville on wednesday.
i arrived to the secret location and got checked in and met so many people including bree!! it was honestly so surreal and everything felt FAKE. we got onto the bus and the driver drove us to taylor’s parents house and we could see TAYLOR’S HAND THROUGH THE BLINDS TAKING PICTURES OF THE BUS ARRIVING. I HONESTLY WAS SO SHOOK.
we then went into the pool area and ate food and i got to talk to a bunch of amazing people. THEN TAYLOR’S PARENTS CAME OUT. i got to talk to them but i obviously can’t talk about what they said because that’s *confidential* 👀 but let’s just say, THEY KNEW WHO I WAS.
i then had to use the bathroom so the security let me inside the house to use the bathroom and when i came out taylor’s entire team was waiting for me, they told me to wait and one of them was like “niko, this is going to be very exciting” AND MY POOR LITTLE HEART STARTED BEATING SO FAST. they then took me into the room where the secret session was going to be held and told me that i could CHOOSE WHEREVER I WANTED TO SIT BEFORE THEY LET ANYONE IN THE HOUSE. i obviously picked the floor pillows that was TWO INCHES AWAY FROM THE CHAIR TAYLOR WOULD BE SITTING IN.
everyone then came in the room and sat on the floor cushions. we had to wait about 20 minutes before TAYLOR SWIFT WALKED IN THE ROOM WITH ABIGAIL. i didn’t get to hear what she said as she walked in because everyone was screaming, including myself. she looked so GENUINELY HAPPY AND EXCITED. she then pointed to abigail and said “SHE JUST GOT MARRIED” and abigail started flaunting her ring. IT WAS LITERALLY SO ICONIC.
taylor then walked to her chair and sat down and instantly locked her EYES ON ME. SHE HAD THE BIGGEST SMILE ON HER FACE AND SAID “oh, hi there niko!!!” AND PUT HER HAND OUT SO SHE COULD HOLD MY HAND. YOUR BOY WAS VERY SHOOK.
she then started playing the album but that’s all *CONFIDENTIAL* 👀
taylor literally talked to me during the actual secret session. she kept grabbing my hands and dancing with me. *shook*
before she played LWYMMD she told us all to GET UP and DANCE WITH HER. as soon as i got up TAYLOR LITERALLY GRABBED MY WATER BOTTLE AND THREW IT ON HER CHAIR AND GRABBED MY HANDS AND STARTED DANCING WITH ME WHILE SCREAMING THE SONG IN MY FACE. SHE EVEN MADE ME TWIRL HER. BEST DANCE OF MY LIFE.
((the album is so good btw y’all are going to be wigless on november 10th))
once the album was over we all got in line to meet her and someone from taylor nation called my name and two other people because SHE WANTED TO MEET US IMMEDIATELY.
as i walked down the stairs taylor has the biggest smile on her face and opened her arms and said “NIKO!!!” and she HUGGED ME. she then hugged my mom and started telling my mom how i’m the sweetest person in this fandom and how everyone loves me and i’m the peace keeper. she even said i was the key to this community. (it took everything in me not to ugly cry in front of her)
she then looked at me and complimented my outfit by saying “YOU LOOK SO SHARP” and i thanked her and said “really? i picked out this outfit last minute!”
i then told her how much i loved the new album and at one point of the conversation i started chanting “GRAMMYS GRAMMYS GRAMMYS” and she started jumping up and down laughing and said “YEAHHHHH!!!” and then gave me a high five. (best high five i’ve ever received)
i was then able to tell her how i was born profoundly deaf and how grateful i am to hear her music and she was holding my hands the entire time while looking directly into my eyes. she looked so caring and loving. i also thanked her for giving us a platform to make friends. i told her that i don’t have any friends but because of her i was able to meet my two best friends, kylee and makenna aka @this-luv and @justreputatixn
she was like “what are you talking about you have no friends??? EVERYONE LOVES YOU” and then i was like “OK BUT I DON’T HAVE REAL LIFE FRIENDS” and then she just hugged me so tightly. my mom then chimed in and told her how me, kylee and makenna met and went to see ed at the divide tour and she just smiled and said “good kids, good kids” she then told me to say hi to kylee and makenna for her and i told her she should definitely follow them on tumblr and she said she would once she stalked me. a WOMAN™
she then asked what poses i wanted to do and i asked for just a hugging picture and one with my mom. we took our picture and i asked if i could hold the grammy in the picture with my mom and she said “wouldn’t you rather hold a moonman? this is the one that got stolen” and she started laughing and my mouth literally DROPPED. so i obviously took that one while my mom took the grammy.
i then turned to her and was like “ok. you need to perform all you had to do was stay in houston because i’m still mad that you cut it off the setlist” and she started laughing and said “I ALWAYS SEE YOU BEING MAD AT ME FOR THAT” AND WE BOTH STARTED LAUGHING. THEN SHE GRABBED MY FACE AND SAID “NIKO YOU’RE SO CUTE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. WHY AREN’T WE BEST FRIENDS?” THEN I WAS LIKE “MAKE IT HAPPEN.” so, if taylor performs it in houston, y’all know who to thank.
i then hugged her again and told her that i loved her so much and it was honestly the best hug ever.
as i started getting ready to leave, i said “don’t become a stranger. i’ll see you on the internet” then she did something that i can’t mention yet because it’s *confidential* 👀
i then got in the bus and i was so very shook. i got to sit across from bree and we talked about what had just happened and we were both in shock about everything that just had happened.
i then went back to my hotel and ate mcdonald’s and fell asleep with the biggest smile on my face. ❤️🍔🍟❤️
i have never felt so special in my life and i honestly cannot thank taylor enough for inviting me to her parents house so i could listen to her album 15 days early and for being so amazing and kindhearted towards me. i will NEVER forget these memories.
Thank you so much for sending this… I didn’t realise how badly I needed to read/write this until I got this ask
(Note: they are both, again, 18 in this. Okay let’s be real, in all of my reddit writings Eddie and Richie will ALWAYS be 18)
Eddie could see it clear as day: how Richie was slowly distancing himself from the group, and how, when he did hang out with the losers, his jokes were getting more and more frequent. The rest of the losers couldn’t see it as well as Eddie could, but they just didn’t know the older boy the way that Eddie did.
It was a Friday afternoon and the losers were doing what they had been doing every Friday since they met: sitting by the quarry in a circle, passing around bags of lollies, making up jokes, and telling each other stories from their week at school.
Everyone was sitting criss-cross on the small rocks by the water, dust and dirt spread all over their legs. Eddie, though he was sat in the same position, had a towel placed underneath him to avoid anything out of the ordinary touching his skin.
“Did you guys hear that rumour that Henry spread around?” Beverly said, her head turning side to side and looking at each person in the group.
Richie kept his head down, staring at his hands in his lap as if he’d never seen anything more interesting in his entire life. However the rest of the group all shook their heads no and motioned for Beverly to continue.
“He’s been telling everyone that he read Richie’s journal and in it he said he was gay!”
“What!?” Ben exclaimed. “What a stupid rumour!”
The rest of the group nodded their heads and laughed along, yet Richie simply didn’t move once. Eddies giggles slowed down when he noticed this, and he moved closer to Richie.
“Hey, it’s just a dumb thing that Henry made up,” Eddie said as he placed a hand on Richie’s knee, attempting to cheer the older boy up. “No one believes it, don’t worry!”
“Yeah, man,” Mike jumped in. “None of us believe the shit that comes out of Bowers’ mouth.”
Richie’s head snapped up and he stared intently at Mike. The look on his face wasn’t happiness like Mike was expecting, however it wasn’t a look of sadness or anger either. Simply a look. And as fast as his head has risen, Richie was up and running through the trees and out into the street.
“Well, th-that was weird,” Bill pointed out. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement except for Eddie. The small boy was still staring at the spot in the trees where Richie has disappeared into, and suddenly it made sense. Why Richie hardly ever hung out with everyone anymore. And why, when he did, he was so far away, like he wasn’t even listening to what people were saying. He’d just crack his inappropriate jokes, then leave as fast as he had arrived.
But Eddie had put it together. It was true - the rumour. It was the only explanation.
“I’ll get him,” Eddie said quickly. He didn’t bother waiting for anyone to protest and he dashed off into the trees in search of his friend.
As he exited the trees, he was expecting to have to run all over town in an attempt to find Richie. What Eddie wasn’t expecting though, was for Richie to be sat on the pavement directly across the road. He had his knees shoved underneath his chin, his hands pressed into his face and a pair of violently shaking shoulders.
Well, this was certainly a sight that Eddie had never seen in all his years of knowing Richie. Richie was the smart ass kid who had a comeback for everything. He didn’t get sad. He didn’t storm off. And he certainly didn’t cry. Ever.
Eddie looked both ways numerous time before running across the road. Richie heard the heavy foot steps and gently pulled his hands away from his face. He looked up and saw the smaller boy standing next to him, a look of pure understanding and sympathy plastered all over his soft features.
“It’s not just a rumour, is it?” Eddie whispered as he placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder. As much as he wanted to sit on the pavement next to the sad boy, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how many bugs and dust and dirt were spread all over the cement. He regretted not grabbing his towel before he ran away from the group.
Richie didn’t reply. He simply put his head back in his hands and began sobbing once more.
Eddie didn’t know what to do. He had never been very good at comforting people, let alone comforting a crying Richie of all people.
“Oh, fuck it,” Eddie muttered to himself. He sat down on the pavement, pushing all of those thoughts of germs far into the back of his mind, and pulled Richie’s hands away from his face.
“Do you hate me?” Richie whispered with his head still looking down. It was so soft that Eddie almost didn’t hear. Almost.
“Are you serious?” Eddie said, a defensive chuckle escaping his lips. He reach forward and grabbed Richie’s face in his small hands. “There will never be a single moment in time where I will hate you. Ever. Do you hear me?”
Richie nodded, and Eddie wiped the tears that were streaming down the older boys’ face.
“That’s why I’ve been avoiding you so much. I didn’t want you to know I liked you,” Richie sniffed.
Eddies eyes widened. Well, he wasn’t expecting that.
“Wha- what did you just say?”
“You didn’t know?” Richie asked. Eddie shook his head, eyes still as big as his face. “Oh. Fuck.”
Eddies hands never left Richie’s face as the tears started to calm down. The feeling of the smaller boys’ finger tips (Jack Dylan) graz(er)ing over his cheeks helped settle the sniffles and soon enough Richie was giggling uncontrollably. Eddie looked back up to Richie, confused thoughts running through his head as he wondered what Richie could possibly be laughing at when this was such a serious time.
“What? What’s so funny?!” Eddie questioned.
“This is just so weird!” Richie giggled. He wrapped his hands around eddies wrists and pecked him on the cheek, a wide smile making its way onto his face as he pulled away. Eddie could still feel the linger of Richie’s soft curls on his face, and shortly after he too was giggling uncontrollably.
Before they knew it, both boys were laying back on the pavement, arms wrapped around their stomachs and howls of laughter erupting from their mouths. The laid there for what felt like forever, chuckling even more when they’d open their eyes and look at each other.
After a few minutes, Eddie opened his eyes at the same time as Richie, yet no sounds came out of either of them. The stayed laying on the footpath, staring into each other eyes until Richie finally leapt up and onto eddies lap so that he was straddling the tiny boy.
“Wha- what are you doing, Rich?” Eddie asked. Richie didn’t say anything. He just put his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, leant down, and gently placed his lips on top of Eddie’s. So light, like a soft breeze washing over them.
Eddie couldn’t believe how right it felt. How nice and how gentle. And he couldn’t believe he was actually kissing back until he grabbed Richie’s plump cheeks and attempted to pull their faces even closer together. If that were at all possible.
They pulled away, foreheads resting against one another’s and hot breaths coming out of their mouths.
“Well, I didn’t know how badly I wanted that until it happened,” Eddie breathed out, a light giggle escaping his lips.
So this is for the precious, most adorable person @dej-okay because she deserves only good things.
Summary: You’d lost count of how many times you’d thought of kissing him. You had never let yourself imagine that maybe, he thought of it, too.
“Or how badly I’ve wanted you like this,” and he didn’t have to explain what he meant…”
Warnings: None. Just A LOT OF FLUFF AND CHEDDAR CHEESE. Words: 3.6k
“Parker,” you cautioned as he not-so-gingerly picked up the beaker that was mostly full of blue liquid that resembled and even smelt a little like Windex, shaky hands bringing it over to your side of the lab table, mixture sloshing around the insides, goggles beginning to steam up around his eyes from how heavily he was breathing, tiny rogue hairs from fallen waves at his forehead fluttering as warm puffs of air escaped from the spaces between funny eye wear.
It had taken the two of you nearly half an hour to mix the contents in said beaker just right, waiting for the telltale appearance of that crystal blue to color the glass and signal the correct chemical change.
You’d both laughed excitedly as you’d watched with anxious eyes, two pairs of goggles level with the table; forgetting that you were still holding glass tubes and going in for a high five, catching yourself with a sheepish expression just in time. He’d offered an air five instead.
“Peter, carefully,” you urged when the clumsy boy caught a sneakered foot on the corner of the table, neon blue peeking at the edge of its container as it swayed inside, nearly raining down on top of the shiny black below it.
“I know, I know, I’ve got this,” a tiny smirk following his words, and you found yourself believing him despite the sound of glass clanking together as he began pouring that blue liquid into the compound you’d just finished mixing up. The puffs of air fogging up both of your goggles stopped as blue hit green and you held your breaths, the whole feel of him changing when that red precipitate formed in uneven clumps at the bottom of the beaker. Bubbly laughter spilled from his lips in a rush of air as the tension released from his lungs and the smile that lit up the whole of his face kept you from doing the same, kept you from breathing, and you weren’t sure if you would ever be able to bring yourself to draw air into tingling lungs again if he were going to smile like that around you, at you.
Because he was looking at you with the sun in his eyes and happiness making up the whole of his features in a way that warmed your heart entirely and made your body feel sluggish and uneven like the mess of chemicals in that beaker. The longer you looked, the more aware you became of how the color of your cheeks must match the color of that clump, and oh, but his eyes were glowing, and you were glowing, and his lips were pink and stretched prettily across white, mostly-even teeth in that charming way that only his lips could.
And that was the first time you realized that Peter Parker was someone that you could kiss. Peter Parker was someone you wanted to be kissing.
“Look, the nerds got it right,” Flash’s voice broke through your thoughts, your eyes ripping away from the sun to look at the group gathering around your lab table, every pair holding a various shade of blue or green between them.
“Go team nerd,” and this time your hand met with his, palms and fingers slapping together beneath rubber gloves, bright smiles and fluttery lashes hidden beneath hair and goggles too big for your face as he started filling out the lab sheet in his neat, even handwriting.
Peter didn’t notice, but Flash certainly did. And it was strange, to see that the boy who regularly lashed out at him, chose this particular moment, this observation, and you suspected, this shared feeling, to offer you a small, secret smile behind the back of a sweatered Peter Parker.
Peter had been blowing up your phone for the past two days, texting you at all hours, constantly checking in on you since you had fallen down the stairs in your rush to get to class. He’d actually been the one to find you at the bottom, tears welling up in your eyes and a tear in your jeans where you’d hit and skid across the tile, twisting your knee and shredding the skin.
He’d surprised you with his strength, and then again when he’d delicately tucked you into his chest, lifting you up from the ground with careful arms behind shoulders and a rapidly bruising knee, taking you to the nurse. You’d nearly laughed out loud, laughed at yourself when your body reacted to his closeness even after taking a tumble; the way your body felt pressed into the lines of his, the fluttery tingling you felt between nerves that were burning, how soft his voice had been as he’d uttered feathery words like: “It’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you.”
“Please, please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, and I don’t have any tissues, so you’ll have to wipe your nose on my sleeve, and it’ll just be one big mess. We can’t have that, can we?” His face had been inches from yours, concern painting his eyes as he looked down at you.
“No, we can’t. No snot for you,” giving him a watery smile, face tight as you’d tried to get up from the floor; his hands were quick, and warm, and sweet as one wrapped around your shoulder, fingertips brushing at the bare skin of your neck, a calloused thumb hovering over a delicate collar bone, the other tethering your thigh to tile.
“No, no, let me, your knee looks bad, it’s already changing colors,” his brown eyes were asking permission and his cheeks were flushing with color, funny eyebrows raised and waiting for your answer.
“Y-yeah, OK, t-thank you, Peter,” without even thinking your nose had pressed into the crook of his neck as soon as he had you in his arms and off the ground, drawing in the scent of the heated skin there, all sunshine, honey, and musky rain clouds, “I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt like hell.”
“I-I kn-know,” words stumbling out of him as your breath puffed against fine hairs, tickling, moisture teasing, unbeknownst to you, leaving smatterings of goosebumps over tensing arms and an excited heart, “almost there.”
He’d stayed with you in the office, elbows on his knees and a pointy chin in his hands with caramel-flecked eyes that watched your every move as you lay there, knee propped up on a stack of pillows, pack of ice balancing precariously where it was most swollen. His sweater had come off at the first sign of a shiver from you.
“Please?” His fingertips brushing past yours as he passed it to you.
“Thanks, Parker,” brushing hair out of your eyes, using long, shy lashes as blinds, avoiding what rested beneath his own for fear of giving yourself away.
“Yeahyeah, no problem.”
He surprised you again when on the third day of your absence he was there, knocking at your bedroom door and peeking a head covered in messy brown curls past the frame. You moved quickly to cover your legs with your blanket, self-consciousness immediately kicking in at the sight of him so close to the bubble of your safe space, at the thought of him seeing your legs bare, at seeing you in a tank top, at seeing you in your bed in your room where his eyes had never been before.
“P-parker, what are you doing here?” He hadn’t pushed the door open yet, careful eyes scanning your face, eager fingers peeking past the wood.
“Can I – Is it OK that I come in?” You were nodding before your brain had time to process that Peter Parker, the boy who constantly blinded you with dazzling smiles and a heart made of the sun, who was secretly strong but always gentle, was entering your world. It was strange that it felt such a big thing, like it was important, like it should be noted, even though it was happening now with no ceremony, no bells or whistles, just rattling nerves and shaky smiles.
“Yeah, yes, enter at your own risk,” sweaty fingers pointing up at the sign hanging above his head. When he walked past that threshold and into a new world where Peter suddenly existed where you did, and his shoulders shook as he laughed, eyes crinkling and cheeks pushing at baggy, tired puffs of sleeplessness, your heart settled and you released a breath, deciding that this was good and you very much liked him here, with you.
Even when he stood in the middle of your room, hands stuffed in pockets, backpack hanging off of one shoulder and messing up the plaid collar peeking from under a grey sweater. Even when those chocolate eyes scanned over the little secret pieces of yourself, secret pieces that weren’t a secret to him anymore, and a lazy smile had found those lips. Even when he finally turned to you and stared, words lost, like perhaps he too was beginning to realize the step he’d just taken.
“I like your room,” he managed, “did you do those?” He pointed to the push board you had decorated with sketches of flowers, the moon, famous faces, your childhood home, and him. You were praying he hadn’t noticed the one of him. You nodded, trying to rein in the panic and prepare yourself for the embarrassment when he did.
If he saw, he was gracious and kind, as he always was and said nothing, “They’re amazing. I had no idea you liked to draw.”
“Sometimes,” your eyes followed him as he moved to take a seat at the end of your bed, dropping his backpack at his feet, “it’s all about inspiration.” You didn’t miss the pale pink coloring the tops of his ears as he took your words in. Of course he’d seen. His eyes focused on his hands, tracing the lines of his palms, as seconds turned into a minute, maybe two where you just watched him and he worked studiously to avoid your eyes. His silence was too much, he was too much, pink ears, dark eyelashes, and fidgety fingers were too much, so you broke it.
“What are you doing here, Parker?” Curls jostled, settling over too-big ears and temples as he whipped his head towards you to catch your voice and offer a sheepish smile.
“Right, sorry,” unzipping his bag, he pulled out an old, ratty looking quilt that smelt overwhelmingly of him, passing it over to you with this vulnerable look on his face and in his eyes, “I wanted to bring you this, you-you know, for comfort. To help you, with your knee. It’s mine-well, is mine now. It was my uncle’s before, you know,” Before you could say anything, before you could tell him in so many words that your heart was now a sopping puddle of adoration full of the heaviness of his gesture, he was already talking again, silence having been broken, he was now a bundle of nerves, an open heart, and a blur of words.
“Anyway, here’s all of the homework you’ve missed. I took notes for you, and I thought that I could, um, maybe go over them with you, h-help you with your make-up work and studying, or whatever,” he was digging in his bag again. Your fingers traced over swirling patterns and faded colors as you watched the way his mouth moved around the sounds, lost in thought, lost in all of the walls crumbling and the feel and smell of this new world you existed in, lost in that feeling you’d had many times since that day in chemistry where you realized how much you wanted his lips to know yours, too.
“Oh, and I got you these,” you looked up to the crinkling plastic of your favorite snack and a nervous smile, “I know you like them. I’ve seen you with a bag almost every day at lun-” you cut him off with a kiss to the cheek, too afraid of what else would change if you’d pressed at his lips instead, if you’d thanked him where your eyes always hovered, lingering, trying your best to convey everything you were feeling through the warmth blossoming where bodies were connected by blushing cheeks and blushing lips.
“Oh,” he whispered, like he’d clued in, like he was smiling, like he was singing.
“Thanks, Park-Peter. Peter.”
“Yeahyeah, no, uh, no problem,” he whispered again, eyes wide and full of the sun. Your fingers were pacing over fabric again.
“About this homework -”
“Right, right, so in Physics,” and he was a blushing mess as his fingers shuffled through the papers he’d brought you, smile on his face that brought that feeling right back, lips unsated, lips wanting more now that they’d stepped into that known world of his skin.
“You-you’re,” his answering laugh was uncomfortable, gloved hand rubbing at the back of a masked neck; gesture helping to ground your shocked heart because it was so familiar, “Peter, you’re telling me that you’re the Spider-Man?” There was doubt in your words where there was none in your heart. Looking at the shape of him and the way he held himself, hearing him, that voice and his laugh, smelling him; that mix of sweetness, spring-time, and musk that was wholly Peter, you knew it was the truth, that maybe, perhaps you’d always known that Peter was more.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” the lines of his jaw and too-big ears hiding beneath red lycra nodding as he took a step closer to where you sat, where he’d told you to sit when he’d shown up at the time and place where he’d wanted you to be, yellow light from the lamp post above your heads casting shadows, accentuating the lines of him that you knew so well even beneath the disguise.
“Ok then, Peter, let me see,” shaky fingers pointing up at his masked head that he was already shaking in response.
“I can’t, not here,” he took a seat next to you, scratchy costumed thighs rubbing against the sides of softer ones as he leaned into you, shoulder burning as his pressed into yours, white reflective eyes peering, pleading with the last bit of disbelief gleaming in them, “but you know, I know you know.” Hesitantly, he placed a hand on your knee, warmth of him spreading through your limbs from that point, like he knew that touching you would be the punctuation mark you need for the questions you’d had swirling in your mind. He watched as your eyes traced over red fingers and the ways they molded around you.
“I do, I know,” you were looking at him, looking at those hazy white shields that hid chocolate brown eyes, “you’re so good, of course it’s you.” Warm fingers squeezed and you heard a sigh push past lips, sound muted through tight weaves.
“But, Peter, what you’re doing, it’s so-so dangerous. Why?” You were asking, but in your heart of minds you already knew the answer to that question, the words were still bouncing around your chest: because he is good, strong, gentle, kind, and warm. You remembered that day months ago where he’d picked you up from cold tile and carried you; the ease and grace he’d done it with surprising then, making sense now.
“Because I can, so I should,” the words were simple, but the weight of them pressed down on the red and blue of his back like the moon did the ocean. And suddenly there was that feeling again, only this time you didn’t just want to kiss him for yourself you wanted to do it for all of the times no one had, you wanted to leave hundreds and hundreds of ‘thank yous’ on his skin like craters, for all of the ‘because I cans’ and ‘so I shoulds.’
Instead, you wrapped your arms around the broadness of his shoulders and curled your hands around the back of his head, pulling him to you and holding as tightly as you could; indebted, giving him all of the worry that no one knew they should be feeling for the boy behind the suit, giving him the warmth and unspoken words of gratitude that no even knew to package and label ‘Peter Parker.’
But you knew, so you held him and whispered with your arms and heart.
Your lips kissed at where his ear poked through fabric, at his temples, lips spelling out everything for the boy who could, so did.
“You have got to stop,” your hands were linked together behind his neck, a few fingers twirling around loose, toffee curls, forearms resting comfortably on firm jacketed, shoulders. His hands were warm, holding on to your hips, steadying himself as you swayed with him, bodies brushing against each other as you moved.
“I have to stop what?” His eyebrows were furrowed, but the grin on his face told you that he knew. He knew what your heart whispered in that secret space inside your chest. His heart had heard it, had answered many times; had encouraged him to ask you to Homecoming. The last Homecoming.
“Saying things,” forehead leaning against his collar to hide your face, the look of him under the stars, dressed as nicely as he was, with that knowing look in his eye and that stupid smirk on his face too much.
“You want me to stop talking?”
“Yes,” you spoke to the flower pinned at his chest.
“So,” his hands were wrapped fully around your back now, pulling you flush with him, bodies humming and veins swimming with sugar and honey and syrup, “I can’t tell you how pretty you are?”
“Peter,” you whined, face, neck, and chest as red as the rose on your corsage.
“What about,” he paused, drawing out the sounds of his words to tease you further, your heart hanging on every syllable, “how you make my heart feel like its stopping and starting again all at once?” Your ear was pressed to his chest and you could hear it, hear what he meant, how that thing in his chest was flying like a bird does on a clear day. One of his hands had worked its way up your back and into your hair, fingertips sculpting warmth where they touched and pulled at your jaw, pulling your face up from the safety of his chest to look at him. You shook your head with fine, delicate brows furrowed and scrunched, a pout on your stained lips.
“Or how badly I’ve wanted you like this,” and he didn’t have to explain what he meant; that he had wanted to touch you, in all ways, to have your lines blurred, to share in breaths and warmth and feelings, worlds and secret pieces.
It wasn’t so silly to think that his lips probably begged to be with yours in his own secret place, too.
“Peter,” you whispered, that feeling that was always there now, the one that begged you constantly to just embrace his lips like your heart had all of him, was boiling over and you weren’t entirely sure you could keep yourself from it any longer. Not with those words and this night and the way the little points of light above you in that inky blackness were reflected and dancing in the warm, earthy honey colors of his eyes as they took in the sight of you so wrapped up in every part of him.
“I’m going to stop using words now, OK?”
His hands were cradling your face and all of the stars, save for the ones he was made of, disappeared when lips begged no more and instead started to sing.
They kept singing for a second, a third, a fourth, and for all times to come as he kept kissing, kept pulling and pushing in all of the ways you’d wanted to for months, years; the shape of his lips changing as he smiled, happiness leeching into happy kisses. Happy kisses full of bright light; of hearts colliding and a new Universe forming blazed through your body, your soul, when his lips finally blended with the world of yours, a new feeling blossoming as his lips and your lips, your lips; two lips now one, embraced and danced together in warmth, across new terrain and unexplored but well-mapped territory in a land with winds that breathed Peter across mountains, rivers, valleys, and oceans of emotion.
He was still hovering over wet, swollen lips when he found his words again, “Ok, wow, thank you,” thin lips stained a shade darker from the way you’d painted his, eyelashes fluttering over rosy cheeks.
“Really, what sort of dork says ‘thank you’ after a kiss like that?” You were laughing at him and taking in his face, the face of Peter stepping into a new world where you and he existed and kissed each other.
“Umm, the sort of dork you like?” And the way he said it warmed you further.
“And excuse me, but I wasn’t thanking you. I was thanking the Universe, because I was definitely dying tonight if I didn’t get to do that,” and the way he said it was magnetic and pulled your lips to his again, the sound of your lips pulling apart new and exciting and a sound you wanted to hear again and again because it was yours.
“Peter, you are the Universe.”
He smiled that smile that was made of sunlight, pressing those warm, moist lips to your forehead, lingering in that heat pooling where two points of crackling, sparking souls met and spun.
“You need to stop talking now.”
Let me know what you guys think. Feedback is always appreciated.
Harry sighed and leaned against the bathroom door, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a new headache come along.
“Really, it’s not that big of a deal,” Harry tried to explain. “It’s just a grey hair.”
Suddenly, the door swung open almost causing Harry to fall over. A bewildered Draco stood there, face gone slightly pink in frustration and a scowl written across his face. Harry immediately took a step back and put his hands up.
“Not a big deal?” Draco asked pointedly, then raised his voice. “NOT A BIG DEAL? It’s a huge bloody deal, you giant oaf! I have grey bloody hairs!”
“It’s only one hair. Please love-”
“Oh don’t you ‘please love’ me, Potter!” Draco seethed, pointing a finger at Harry. “You can get away with grey hairs- you’re Harry bloody Potter! People think it’s hot if you have them! But me? No! I’m a Malfoy! And Malfoy’s don’t have grey hair at 37! They just don’t!”
Before Harry could reply Draco slammed the door, locking himself in the bathroom again. He scratched the side of his slightly grey-peppered beard for a moment before sighing in defeat and resting his forehead against the door. After a few moments of silence he could finally make out the quiet sniffling that turned into little sobs. It made Harry’s heart break as he listened to his husband cry, and for a moment he was lost for words.
When he first noticed grey beginning to line his hair and jaw, he wasn’t happy either. But after a while they soon became a part of him that he accepted. He knew it must be worse for Draco, though. Draco was so obsessed with looking perfect- using all the right moisturizers to keep his skin soft and wrinkle free, brushing his long, silky blond hair every thirty minutes or so, always wearing cologne and dressing nicely as if he was trying to impress people.
Harry knew it went way deeper than just superficial looks though. Draco himself had told him so after they first got married when he had one too many shots of firewhiskey. He had cried and hiccuped that he was terrified Harry would leave him for someone more attractive, that one day Harry would just look at him and feel disgusted and pack his bags. But no matter how often he tried to assure him that that would never happen, Draco continued on with his beauty regiment.
“My love,” Harry began tentatively, “please hear me out.”
When he didn’t receive a reply, he continued on.
“I know you’re scared. I know you’‘re afraid that one day I’ll stop loving you and leave you for somebody else. But that day will never come. You’re the only one for me, Draco. I’ve never loved anyone else as much as I love you.”
He paused for a moment, but still heard nothing.
“You think that grey hair means you’re only getting old, and you think that it makes you less desirable. But it doesn’t. If anything, I want you now more than ever. You don’t see what I see when I look at you. That grey hair- it’s a symbol.”
A few moments passed before Harry heard a sniffle, followed by a weak, teary-sounding voice. “A symbol for what?”
“It’s a symbol of all the years we’ve been together. Of everything we’ve been through. During our time at Hogwarts, the war we both had to suffer through, when we finally became friends afterwards, when I started slowly falling in love with you, during the last 10 years of our marriage. Every grey hair, wrinkle, and crows foot is just another reminder to me. A reminder of how much I love you.”
Harry went quiet and listened, waiting for Draco to say something- anything. He stood there for a full minute but it felt more like hours. Finally, the door opened slowly to reveal a now calm, puffy-eyed Draco, his long hair pulled back into a high ponytail- which was one of Harry’s favourites. He couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight.
“I love you too,” Draco said in a soft voice as he moved forward to hug Harry. Harry happily hugged him back, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist.
The two stood there, holding each other tightly as if their lives depended on it. After a little while, they finally pulled apart slightly and rested their foreheads together. Draco sniffed wetly and cracked a lopsided grin.
“We’re getting old,” he chuckled.
Harry nodded, smile growing bright. “Yeah. But there’s nobody I would rather grow old with than you.”
They both moved forward at the same, lips pressing against one another in a deep kiss. Draco’s hands moved up to cup Harry’s face lovingly, fingers raking through his beard while Harry’s hands held the small of Draco’s back. They didn’t pull apart until they finally needed to breathe, and when they did both were smiling goofily, making them look like a couple of teenagers again.
“Now,” Harry said. “Why don’t us elderly folk go downstairs and have a cup of tea? And afterwards we can sit by the fire and crochet hideous jumpers together before we go out for bingo night.”
Draco laughed one of Harry’s favourite laughs, head thrown slightly back as he practically giggled, and Harry basked in the way Draco glowed in that moment. Once he recovered from his fit of laughter, he pecked Harry’s lips sweetly.
“That sounds wonderful.”
I’m an American and I literally had to go back and change all of the gray’s to grey’s and favorite’s to favourite’s or else it would have bugged me forever. But here’s some fluffy, married drarry for ya! I love the thought of them growing old together. They probably get even more sappy with age <3
“hey,” he says softly, moving to cup a cheek in calloused fingers, runs one over her pouted lips, “you know I want to. you know I always fucking want to, right? All the time,”
she smiles, presses up to her toes so she can try kiss him again but he tilts back a little further, so her lips catch his stubbly chin instead,
“but, like fuck am I ever gonna be one of those guys that takes advantage of a girl cause she’s drunk, and especially not when it’s you,”
“you’re sweet,” she whispers and he shrugs,
“i don’t think being a decent person means I’m sweet, but I’ll take it,” he smiles, letting go of her cheek to tuck an arm securely around her waist, “how bout I go make something full of carbs and a glass of water?”
she scrunches her nose up at the water, “water is so boring,”
he laughs as he leads her back to her kitchen, hip bumps the counter painfully as she stumbles and he hisses through the pain and finds the light switch,
“i love water,” he says, filling her a glass even if she doesn’t drink it,
“i love wine,” she replies, grinning and following him around the kitchen as he grabs things for some pasta, “remember that time you got wine drunk? with me? a few months ago?”
“yeah love, I remember. I remember the dodgy stomach i had the next day the most though,”
“I love it when you’re happy and all giggly,” she hums and he feels a wave of affection, hit him quick and sudden and he turns around to face her, dislodging her from where she’s leaning forward between his shoulder blades,
“i love it when you’re happy too,” he says, the most serious he’s been all night and it both seems to sober her up and make her feel tipsier than she has all night. he breaks her gaze, “go sit down,” he orders and she follows immediately, “and take the water with you!” and she huffs, but swipes it up as she passes.
her head lolls on her neck, suddenly desperately tired now she’s sat down and her eyes suddenly heavy but she doesn’t want to stop watching him, not even for a second, as he moves around her kitchen. she hates that he knows where everything is, and she hates that she doesn’t know if he’ll be here when she wakes up. she hates that he has to leave her all the time, hates that she hates that he’s living his dream and she can’t be apart of it. mostly, she hates that she likes him as much as she doesn’t want to admit. she hates that she doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel the same.
“you alright, love? you’ve gone from talking a mile a minute to just watching me like i’m ‘bout to disappear,”
“are you?” she hums,
“am i what?” he asks absentmindedly, checking to see if the pasta is soft enough yet. it isn’t.
“about to disappear?”
he frowns a little and she pouts, never wants to make this boy frown, as he walks over to her,
“what’re you talking about? i’m right here, aren’t I?
she shakes her head and makes herself smile, which is fairly easy when she looks up at him,
“you are. right here,” she smiles properly this time, “is my pasta ready yet? I’ve been waiting so long i might die,”
he rolls his eyes, fond as anything, “you’re so impatient when you decide you want something, y’know that?” he says as he walks back over to the hob, stirs and stabs the pasta,
“you have no idea,” she replies, too soft for him to hear as he drains the water and mixes the sauce. he plates it up in two bowls and hands one over to her, and her mouth starts to water a little because damn, she is hungry.
“so did you have a good night tonight?” he asks, mouth full as he chews. it’s kinda gross but it’s okay. she likes that they’re at that kind of level now,
“yeah, it’s always fun going out with you and the boys. did you? you barely drank, and that’s just not the calum I’m used to,”
“honestly, I’m still kinda hanging from last night, think if I drank much today my liver would’ve flopped,”
“we can’t have that,” she says, “everyone would cry,”
he grins and pokes her leg with his socked foot, “you’d cry too, right?”
“are you kidding?” she smirks, “i’d be leading the celebrations,”
he clutches his chest in mock offence, eyes playfully wide and he makes her want to smile so hard, “you’re a goddamn liar,” he accuses. she’s halfway through a mouthful, so she shrugs, eyes bright as his. she is a liar, she thinks. she lies when she tells him that being his friend is all she wants. all she needs. she lies about that.
he nudges her glass of water towards her, and she sips it. she feels more sober now, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel completely sober when she’s around calum and she’s more than okay with that. he takes her finished bowl, after he’d finished his because he eats so much and so quick, and damn if it doesn’t annoy her that he still has such a lovely body. he takes her bowl but he doesn’t clean them up, but it’s okay. he already does so much for her.
“right, you wanna head up to bed?”
“with you?” she asks, eyes widening in a false sense of innocence and he loves it,
“you still tryna get in my pants, huh?” he teases and she’s completely serious when she replies with a sure,
not because she wants him just for sex, the opposite really, but sex means closeness and intimacy and an unraveled calum which is a sight burned forever behind her eyelids when she’s without him for days. when she’s without him for weeks. months.
“tease,” he murmurs, eyes a little darker and lips parted just that little bit, “what d’you wanna do then?” he checks his watch, “s’not that late, we could watch an episode or two of brooklyn nine nine?”
it’s their show.
“that’s our show,” she says and he nods, already heading through the open plan to the living room. she doesn’t want to move, and holds her hands out to him when he looks over, and he rolls his eyes before stretching out to take hers. she likes how their hands look, twisted and twined together, likes how their skin looks together, likes how their eyes are both brown; though every part of calum outshines her features easily, without a doubt. he’s so pretty, and she sighs as he tugs her to the sofa,
“what?” he asks, distracted with setting up netflix. it’s on his account (she doesn’t have her own), and he smiles as he clicks her profile, the nickname he chose still there proudly.
“you’re so pretty, y’know?” she tells him, tongue still loose from the wine and she thinks someone needs to tell him this everyday, “it’s very important to me that you know how tragically pretty you are,”
he snorts, flopping down on the sofa and she falls with him, hands still laced, so close next to him she could climb into his lap.
“tragically pretty?” he laughs, but she can see there’s a flush to his cheeks and it warms her chest red to, “me? you sure you’re talking to the right guy?”
she pokes his chest and squeezes his hand, “stop that,” she demands, and then more softly as he chooses the episode they’re due to start, “d’you not know that?”
his free hand rubs his neck and he shrugs his left shoulder a little,
“i guess. plenty of people tell me, but i just - i just don’t think I’ll ever be able to believe them, y’know? i feel like they’re seeing someone different,”
she gazes at him until he shifts uncomfortably and then whines that they missed this cold opening and fumbles for the remote to rewind it. she taps his cheek, and he looks, and she plants a warm, sweet kiss to his unexpecting mouth. he makes a noise in the back of his throat before he relaxes, let’s her kiss him, but he’ll stop her before they get carried away. he loves kissing her, and she thinks it’s on par with some kind of religious experience and she’s a hardcore atheist. she lets him go after a while, leans against his forehead and watches his tongue swipe out across his lower lip. she squeezes her thighs together a little,
“they’re not seeing someone else. they’re seeing you. just like i see you. and i’d never lie to you, huh?”
he thinks his hearts beating faster than strictly healthy, and swallows loudly,
“thanks, love,” he murmurs and she leans back, smiling, satisfied and then cuddles a little into his chest before he says, “you are, too,”
she wiggles her eyebrows and says, “i know,” in the cockiest way she can muster. she feels her head vibrate as he laughs.
they watch three episodes, but she falls asleep halfway through the last one. his hand is in her hair, absentmindedly massaging her scalp and her head thick and drowsy from booze. he tries his hardest not to wake her up, as he wiggles and manoeuvres her into his arms properly so he can ascend the stairs. she stirs and wraps herself around him like a koala and he rubs her back soothingly, prays he doesn’t miss-step and send them stumbling to their deaths. he undresses her from her going out top, but she’s a dead weight and decides she can sleep in denim shorts for a night. he places her unfinished water at her bedside and kisses her forehead, her cheek,
before he whips out his phone and calls luke to see if they’re still out. they are, so he heads to join them. not to drink, but he’s spent too much time with her recently, which is his favourite way to unwind when he’s home, but it also makes him feel incredibly lonely when she’s not there - regardless of whether it’s because she’s just sleeping or because he’s touring, and he hates that feeling. he can bury it in his best friend’s, if only for a while. he’ll see her tomorrow.
she shoots him a text when she wakes up, shifts unhappily in her shorts and wiggles to take them off.
what’re we doin today
she looks over at the empty side of her bed and her heart tightens a little at the thought that it might always be empty. she wishes he’d take it, make it his side, make it smell like him, make it his own in a bed that could be theirs.
hikin, get ur trainers n ass huggin leggings on love
she snorts, but rolls out of bed to obey. she likes hiking, it’s something they do together which might be the reason why she likes it but that’s okay. she showers quick and cold, the air is so humid today and she wonders if his hair will be curly from it. she hopes so.
ill be at yours in 15 minutes
bring me an iced coffee and ill consider letting you in
it’s too hot for regular coffee she decides, but caffeine is a must to fight her weak headache. she gets dressed, trainers tied in poor knots that’ll probably come undone halfway through their hike and waits on her sofa. the intercom buzzers at the exact time he said he’ll be there and she jumps up so quickly to answer it. jumps up to see him.
“morning love,” he hums quietly, ducking down to receive the peck she throws at his lips, tastes his own coffee on his mouth. he hands her an iced latte but doesn’t come in when she widens the door, “I parked on a double yellow,” he explains. she snatches up her keys and phone and follows him out her door, down her stairs and to his car. he opens the drivers side, and gestures for her to get in. she looks at him, mouth parted,
“are you serious?” she asks, voice echoing her excitement and he grins,
“yeah yeah, get in before i change my mind,”
she bounces on her toes and kisses his cheek quickly before clambering in the drivers side. she loves to drive his car, it’s so sleek and smooth and the exact opposite of hers. his seat is pushed back miles too far for her to reach the pedals, with his long fucking legs, and she readjusts as he shuts the passenger door.
“why you not driving?” she asks and he shrugs, follows the lead of the aux cord so he can plug it into his phone. she looks as he unlocks it, and smiles at the picture of the two of them as his home screen (though noticeably not his lock screen. there’s a difference) and the crack in the bottom corner,
“i can if you want,” he says, skipping a dozen songs before settling,
“no I love driving your car,” she replies quickly and he laughs a little, “seriously, you don’t know how lucky you are to drive this bad boy. i mean, heated seats?”
he laughs again, “i live a life of luxury, what can i say,”
“and you deserve to,” she says, as she turns on the engine. it’s turns on so quickly and quietly and she groans in satisfaction, “however I deserve to drive a car that takes three turns for the engine to come on,”
“join a world known band babe, and this could be you,” he teases and she rolls her eyes,
“which hike we doin’ today? ash not joining?”
“well, when I left luke’s this morning, he was still flat out on luke’s bed, so,”
“you went back out?” she asks, as she drives along the busy streets and plays with the aircon. she can’t imagine having working fucking aircon in her car,
“yeah but only for a bit. you were knock out when I left anyway, I made sure. take this left,”
she follows his instructions, and she thinks she’d follow him everywhere.
it’s a quiet trail that he’s found, and the sky is grey with light clouds,
“is it forecast to rain today?” she asks and he shakes his head,
“nah, just cloudy and humid,”
“the worst,” she sighs and he agrees, before shifting anxiously as she starts to attempt parking beside two other cars, “jeez, let up scratching my leather seats,” she grins, nodding at his fingers curled around his chair.
“your leather seats,” he repeats, “you’re such a shit parker, if you scratch her then your driving privileges are revoked,”
“okay, that’s not fair. just because I hit one car a tiny bit once,”
she takes a few tries, and calum sits anxiously and tall as he peers out of his tinted windows and over the windscreen to make sure she’s not getting too close, before she turns of the engine and he relaxes,
“not bad,” he compliments and she gasps in offence,
“that may be the best park job I’ve ever done,” she tells him as she grabs her drink from the holder and her phone and steps out the car to admire her work. it’s sad to admit she’s parked a little diagonal. he sniggers as he notices, sliding on some sunglasses that make him look irritatingly attractive, in his tank top and state champs shorts.
“you look nice,” she pipes up, smoothes her sweaty hand on her leggings a little self consciously even though she knows her bum looks good in these. he slides his sunnies down his nose to wink sleazily at her and she rolls her eyes, “I take that back. you’re a creep and I don’t like your face,”
he takes a swig from his water bottle and leads them to the start of the hike,
“liar. you love my face, you think it’s pretty,”
she drops her head in shame, “damn, I did say that,”
he drops an arm around her shoulders. it’s already too sticky to be touching but she leans into it anyway.
the hike is nice. it’s burns her thighs and shes sweating at her hairline, and her iced latte doesn’t quench her thirst much but cal sings as they walk, and she makes him pose stupidly for her snapchat story and he offers her his water bottle and she loves him a little.
they reach the peak about an hour and a half in, and she all but collapses at the rocks they find there,
“christ, I need to exercise more, damn,”
he laughs where he’s fucking stretching and his thighs are so nice she thinks,
“sex is a form of exercise you know,” she tells him, very matter of fact, and he laughs again, his cheeks a little rosy that he blames on the hike,
“it is. you’d have to be on top or something for it to really count though,”
and she gapes at him, and he’s laughing still, a musical goddamn sound that echoes around the deserted hill, “i’m on top more than you are, the fuck!”
“I dunno,” he hums, still grinning, still laughing, still making her fall disgustingly in love with him, “not sure I can remember the last time you weren’t underneath me,”
he walks over to her, drops down and leans back on his hands, head leaning on his shoulder to smirk at her, eyes dancing,
“then our sex life must be real boring,” she sighs sadly but her lips are smiling just as big as his are, “we’ll have to do something about that, huh?”
“it’s the only way,” he says, pouting like it’s a hardship. she giggles and knocks his shoulder before leaning on it. they look out at the view they have. it’s serene and lovely, even though all the grass is a tired, burnt brown rather than her favourite colour.
“we have rehearsal tonight,” he tells her, “wanna come by and watch?”
“I don’t like your band,” she replies,
“my band is the best band,” he argues, kisses her head,
“i’ll be there, what time?”
“not sure yet, they’ll let me know when they find out,”
she hums, and he’s soft next to her, loose and relaxed. he wishes he was always this relaxed, wishes he could always be this carefree. but he isn’t and he can’t be because his job doesn’t let that happen, not in this way, this way that he is with her. it’s a constant battle he has, it confuses him that he loves both. he thinks he should only love one. his band his band his band. he’s trying to accept that he can love both, that he can be both. that he can be more. michael and luke can be both, why can’t he? it’s easier said than done and he doesn’t know why. he shifts her head so it’s off his shoulder and tucks a ringed finger under her chin so he can reach her lips. can encase them. her lips are thinner than his.
kissing is easy, she thinks. kissing calum is like breathing, she thinks. kissing calum on top of a big ass hill, outside the city, with all the time in the world is all she ever wants, she thinks. calum is all she wants. she knows.
he goes to push her down gently, but she stops him and he pulls back quickly and goes to say sorry but she’s willing her tired legs to move up and swing around to sit on his and she raises an eyebrow at him cheekily. his stomach turns and twists, and she meets him in another heated kiss.
they wouldn’t stop, if it wasn’t for the buzz of his phone in his shorts.
“ignore it,” he tells her so she does. it rings again though and he huffs and she catches it in her mouth before she leans away and plays with the hair, matted and sweaty on the nape of his neck and he tugs his phone out, “it’s mike,” he explains and accepts the third call. she can hear michaels voice,
“hey man, rehearsal starts at four today,”
“you couldn’t text that, huh?” calum says but it’s light,
“I did! it’s in the group chat but you haven’t read any of ‘em,”
“my bad, sorry, we’ve been hiking,”
“gross. see you guys later,” and he hangs up. he doesn’t know why he likes it so much that he assumed she’d be coming with him. makes him wonder if they’d react that way if she came on tour with them. he chases that thought away as quickly as it comes.
“we should probably start heading back, I need to eat,” he says, offering a hand and pulls her up so easy,
“eat me,” she quips and he chokes on the water in his mouth and she grins, watches him wipe his mouth and lets her steal his bottle, takes big sips too.
“what’s gotten into you recently, huh?” he asks, amused and she sighs,
he laughs loudly and kisses her as he does. she swallows his laugh and wraps her arms tight around his neck and mumbles, “god, I love making you laugh,”
his stomach twists and turns again. he wonders what he’s gotten himself into.
“c’mon,” he says, tugs her back to the track, “if we walk quick we might have some time spare,”
she likes the sound of that.
“what food you in the mood for?” she asks as they reach his car, they’d walked down quicker than they’d climbed, as she wipes the sweat from her forehead, watches as he does the same with the hem of his top, and reveals the soft brown of his tummy.
“avocado and eggs on toast,” he says and she scrunches up her nose,
“you and those god damn avocados,”
“they’re a super food!” he defends before moving to get into the car and she pouts,
“don’t I get to drive back?”
“you always get lost driving to mine,” he points out, sliding in, “jesus, how small are you? my knees are hitting my fucking chin,”
she gets in, and can’t help but laugh at how hunched up he is before he pushes the seat back again,
“why’re we going yours? I hate your place,”
“what the fucks wrong with my apartment?” he demands, offended as the aircon blasts through and brings the best kind of cool onto her skin,
“it smells of boys and weed,” she says and he raises an eyebrow at her, before reversing the car, “yeah I know,” she sighs, “I love that smell, fuck,”
“so what is it?” he presses and she debates telling him, but she does because she’ll tell him whatever he wanted to know.
“I just freak out, y’know? I know people know where you live and what if they take pictures of me? and then I’m suddenly a headline on a trashy internet page,” she admits. he pauses,
“I get that. I really fucking do, but even if they did, it doesn’t matter, yeah? none of what the headlines say matter cause they’re never true. unless it’s about our third album being our third number one,” he jokes, and she smiles but,
“but I don’t need people sending me hate messages or blowing up my twitter. I like having no mentions and no followers, thank you very much,”
“the worst headlines could say is that you’re my new fling or my girlfriend,” he tries to reason.
“would me being your girlfriend really be the worst thing?” she mumbles,
“i said,” she starts and wishes she didn’t, “i said is them calling me your girlfriend really the worst thing they could say?”
“I dont-” he starts, confused and he checks his mirrors, chews his lip a little, “is this about the headlines or is this about us?” he can’t believe he dared himself to say that. she can’t either. they don’t talk about it.
“no, I uh - i mean, i’m not your girlfriend so,”
“right,” he agrees faintly, “then there’s no drama, huh? I’ll let you put my hoodie over your face if you really want but there’s never usually people outside,”
“fine,” she mutters and it’s weird because it’s gone kind of silent, but they don’t have silences and they certainly don’t have awkward ones. she clears her throat and he readjusts his mirror a little and it’s still silent, “y’know,” she starts and she smiles, “in my car, the engine is loud enough that there wouldn’t be a chance for an awkward silence,”
he laughs then, and everything’s back in sync again. they avoid talking about labels and them in particular for a reason. calum lives right in the city, and she does pull his hoodie over her head, hood up and engulfing despite how hot it is. but calum was right, again, as they go into his building and no one follows.
“are you sure you’re famous?” she asks as they use the elevator to his floor and he nudges her,
“oh baby,” he sighs, and damn does she love it when he calls her that, “i’m so famous people would pay to be you right now,”
she laughs and he grins, lets them into his place, which god, probably costs more than she’s spent on rent her entire life in one month. it does smell like boys and weed, and his aftershave and she breathes it in deep. he takes off his sunglasses, drops them and his keys on his sleek kitchen side and then grabs what he wants from the fridge, “you’re wanting some too, yeah?”
“please,” she smiles and he nods. he checks his phone first, though, checks the time and it’s just past two. they have two hours before he has to be at rehearsal. the bands group chat, and several others he’s in has left him with over 300 notifications and he can’t be bothered to read them right now. not when she’s spinning on his bar stool with her hair longer than it has been since he first met her, and not when she meets his eyes and smiles, soft and lovely.
he needs her more than she needs him, he thinks. maybe. he grabs an avocado and chops it in half,
“did you know cutting avocados is sending more millennials into hospital than ever?” she says, and he just sort of looks at her,
“that’s so sad, alexa play tubthumping,” he says, completely straight faced. and oh god, she fucking loses it. she can’t stop the laughter bubble up her throat and vibrate through her chest and then when she hears the distinct ‘playing tubthumping by chumbawamba’ she starts crying. he does too, he can’t not when she’s laughing like that, and he hasn’t laughed this much in a real fucking long time. she wipes her eyes, her mouth still parted in a laugh that’s turned silent.
“oh my fucking god, that might just be the funniest thing you’ve ever fucking said,” she tells him, gasping. it wasn’t even that funny.
“I dunno, have you not seen our cocktail chats videos? solid drunken humour from me in those,” he says,
“I watched those so much when you weren’t here,” she admits and then bites her lips because his head whips back up from accessing how to get out the stone from his avocado,
“you did? really?”
“yeah duh,” she shrugs, “but i will not let myself fall into the ‘calum hood funny moments’ side of youtube though,”
and he’s laughing again. jesus fucking christ. she’s a goner.
he settles into the hum of cooking, he loves cooking, doesn’t get much time to do it. she helps to the extent of pouring them both some juice, turning on his fan, and being distracting. she plays on her phone as he cooks the eggs and checks instagram,
“I wanna go to new zealand,” she whines as she sees another post from there, “will you take me?”
“sure love,” he answers distractedly, “can you grab some knives and forks?”
“did you just agree to agree or did you mean it?” she asks, grabbing two sets of each.
she sighs and he feels guilty. he would take her, he would, but he can’t and she knows that. she’s selfish to ask and he’s selfish to lie and say yes. they eat, and he eats quicker than she does again, and he finally responds to the texts on his phone, chuckles at some and shows her them. she likes his band a lot, they’re fun and not so big headed just yet. he stretches,
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he informs her, and leaves the room walking backwards, tugs off his top and leaves it on his floor. his eyes have a playful glint in them and she finishes the last of her eggs as quickly as she can manage so she can follow. she spots some gum on a table and she chews one quickly. he crowds her against the bathroom door as soon as she’s there, closes it and leans her against it, crowds in her space. she always wants him to be her space. he leans down to kiss her, one hand on the door above her head and the other curled tight and possessive around her left hip. her hands come to rest on his bare chest, rest on his pecs, rest behind his neck to keep him close,
“when did you get gum?” he asks, nudging away from her mouth and down her jaw. she tilts her head to give him more room to work with, her knees suddenly weak when he sucks on the spot he knows she loves.
“y’want it?” she asks, and he works his way back to her lips, lets her push her gum onto his tongue, let the mint explode there. she hasn’t chewed away all the taste yet. he wonders why he doesn’t find it gross. he chews it for a moment or two, so she works on pushing him back so she can take off her top too. the showers already on, and he has such a nice shower, a proper, waterfall pressure shower, “i’m only here for your shower you know,” she says and his lips quirk.
“can’t believe you’re just using me for my things,” he pouts, moves to spit the gum into the bin by the sink and tugs out of his shorts. she watches with a parted mouth and he smiles smugly, “my things and my body,”
“i’d never use you,” she mumbles, coming closer, kissing him hot, tongue sliding against his, bare chests pushing into one another.
“I know,” he murmurs, and unclasps her bra, tugs the straps down her arms until it falls to the floor. she walks them backwards until his knees are against the cool of the tub, and her fingers play with the waistband of his boxers. he lets them fall down, kicks them off his ankles and works on her leggings. she’s glad she remembered to shave recently, she doesn’t bother so much when he’s not here. she doesn’t sleep with anyone else. she’s too scared to ask if he does. he steps into the bath, turns towards the shower, face up and lets the cool water beat down on him for a moment. she watches him, fascinated and infatuated before stumbling to join him. her hairs going to get wet and she goes to put it up and out of the way so it doesn’t, but he’s on her again, he’s kissing her again and his large, lovely, tattooed hands are searching up and down her body, wrapping his arms around her, encasing her and she forgets. she forgets everything that’s not him. forgets everything that’s not calum calum calum. she mumbles his name and he kisses it from her tongue.
he thought this was going to be rushed. it should be rushed, they haven’t really got that much time before he needs to see his boys, but it feels like they have all fucking day. he always wants to have all day with her. he doesn’t want to think that soon, he won’t be able to. tour is soon, so soon. he presses every inch of himself against her to forget, and she shivers, reaches down to wrap a hand around him. he’s hard against her stomach, hard against her fingers as she runs one up the vein, runs one around the tip, gathers him just before the water washes it away.
“fuck,” he mumbles, hands running over hard nipples, the piercings there, her stomach and her piercing there too, “fuck,”
she loves it when he swears, but she loves whatever comes out of his mouth.
his fingers keep tracking down, track her curves, follow until they reach her and she jumps slightly and he smiles, “what’s up, love?”
“just-,” she sighs, but he knows. she presses kisses to his neck, starts to suck until he gently guides her away and down. she’s not supposed to leave marks on his neck. it only makes her want to do it more, “please,” she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. she’s asking for everything. he can’t give her everything.
but he can give her this.
his fingers find where she’s most sensitive, and they stay there, rub there until she squirms and he smiles against her lips. he lets them slip in, one, two, three slowly and the hand that was on him slows and eventually stops as she shudders and whines against his shoulder, teeth find it, bite it and he groans into her hair, kisses her head, works his fingers until she pushes him away and looks at him with purposeful eyes,
“c’mon,” she says, breathless and he grins,
“c’mon what?” he taunts,
“want you,” she pleads, tightens her grip that’d gone loose around him and he tilts his head back, “please, i-”
“yeah,” he breathes, pulling away from her altogether so he can press her against the slick wall of his bathroom, tiles wet from the shower that rains down more than it has done outside in a long time. she doesn’t think it’s rained since he’s been home. she wonders if that’s a coincidence.
her leg wraps around his waist, and his forehead comes to rest against hers as teases her, rubs himself against her, pushes in for a second and stops, pulls out to do the same again. she huffs, and narrows her eyes, shifts to try get him closer and slips on the wall. he catches her, like he always does, and laughs a little until she giggles too. he pushes in then, and his breath catches this time and his eyes squeeze closed and his hand that’s slapped against the tiles for balance tries to curl around nothing. he curls his other tightly at her hip instead, and she hopes for bruises.
“i’m kinda scared we’re gonna fall,” he whispers, opening his eyes and grinning, and her eyes dance as she looks back,
“best make it worth it then,” she hums and he takes it as a permission and a challenge. his hips pull back, and drive in again, set up a pace that has her hitching up the wall with every turn, has her hands scrabbling at his back, at his shoulders, at the wall to keep steady, “jesus cal,” she whines. people say his name everyday, and he doesn’t care for it. it’s just his name. but it’s more than just his name when she says it. he wonders what that means. he kisses her mouth, kisses her nose, presses against her forehead and looks down. he sees her leg, wrapped tight around his waist, sees the tattoo on it, warm against her skin, sees him as he moves in her, with her. he groans and moves his hips deeper and she yanks his hair, bares her throat and he latches to it.
“m’gonna,” she pants, “m’gonna finish soon,”
“yeah? gonna come just from me? just for me?” he mumbles, and she nods and lets out quiet,
“please, please, please,”
his hand moves from clutching her waist, moves to her, and she tightens hot and heavenly around him and he moans low in his throat. they knock foreheads and they breath quick for a few moments, until her leg falls from where it rests, and she grumbles,
“fucking pins and needles,”
he sniggers and pulls out, gentle and she winces and he kisses her, “okay, we really gotta get clean and ready before we’re late. we’d never hear the end of it,” he promises, and he washes his hair quick with a round of shampoo and conditioner, rinses his body before switching places with her so she’s under the main waterfall. she goes to take the flannel, but he takes his time to wash between her legs, before he gives it to her. she kisses him.
by the time they’re out, dry, dressed and both of their hair still wet, his curling and hers frizzing, they have ten minutes to get from his apartment to the place he’s rehearsing that,
“ah shit, it’s like twenty minutes away,” he realises, tosses her his phone as they clamber in the car, “can you text ash that we’re gonna be a few minutes late?”
she unlocks his phone, knows his password easily, and scrolls through his endless stream of messages until she sees ashton’s name.
ash home mob 15:49
we’re going to be late!! really sorry, cal’s got his foot down
she sends it and then, with a curiosity that she thought was harmless, scrolls up through their texts. they’re stupid, and uneventful until -
ash home mob 01:53
i’ve just left her place and im coming over. dude i think i regret it
ash home mob 01:55
regret what??? doors open btw
ash home mob 01:56
i dont know. all of it? sleeping with her in the first place? sleeping with her still? idk
she doesn’t see what else is said because she scrolls away, scrolls back to the text she sent which ashton left on read and her heart feels like it’s in her throat. what the fuck. she doesn’t know when it was sent either, didn’t look at the dates, didn’t know how far she’d scrolled up. but does it matter? he regrets it. he fucking regrets it. she locks his phone and puts it in the cupholder.
“did he reply?” calum asks, indicator ticking and she swallows,
“nope. left you on read,”
“dick,” he replies fondly.
her thoughts are running wild, overlapping each other and so fucking loud. maybe it was a while ago? maybe he normally messages ashton through the bands group chat? but what if it was recent, what if it was only a couple of weeks ago, when they first got back? or the other day? does he still mean it, if he’s just fucked her? and like that?
“hey, you’re shaking, you okay? is the aircon on too high?” he asks, and she looks down and sees her hands are shaking against her thighs. she nods, an excuse already given to her,
“yeah, turn it down a bit?”
“‘course,” he smiles, and fiddles with it. the cool air slows down a little. she does not feel better.
they turn up, only eight minutes late he tells her, rushing them out of the car and into the building, following the sound of tuning guitars and warm up drum beats. the boys holler as calum opens the door, lets her in first and she hates the feeling those tiny gestures give her.
“you made it!” luke says, grinning, giving calum a hug, slapping his back and then kissing her cheek, “what made you guys late? no, wait, don’t tell me, were you -” he teases, eyebrows wiggling playfully and she blushes and calum laughs.
“we went hiking this morning, and the trail was longer than i thought. please tell me my bass is here?” he asks, and luke points to where it sits. it looks out of place, until calum swings it around his neck, settles it in his two hands and they both look much more at home. she goes to sit further back against the wall, leans against it, and tucks her chin on her knee.
she likes soundchecks, likes that she gets to see them perfect their songs they’ve already perfected. she’s lucky and she knows it. she watches calum warm up, watches his fingers move so practiced and talented against the strings of his bass. his text to ashton flashes behind her lids every time she blinks. she keeps her eyes open until they sting. they start bickering lightly over the setlist and she can’t help but butt in because,
“why on earth are you still arguing over if monster among men is on there?” they look over at her, eyebrows quirked and she blushes, “i’m just sayin’, i’ll be personally offended if you don’t play it,”
michael chuckles because he agrees and she nods at him. they play it then, and she moves her head with it. she watches them all, but her eyes never stray far from calum. she understands why he can’t be hers. he’s his bands. she just wishes he could be both. they play through song after song, and she slips out when they take a break, as they sip from water bottles and debate musician things.
it’s still so goddamn humid outside, and she leans against the rails by the backdoor, prays for a breeze. she gets a light one, but it’s just calum coming to join her. when she looks up, he has a cigarette perched between his teeth, patting his jeans for a lighter. she pulls one out from her back pocket and he smiles at her, lights it and gives it back.
“yeah,” she lies, “sorry about interrupting earlier,”
he chuckles, “it’s okay. always good to have fresh opinions,”
“my opinion doesn’t matter,” she mumbles and he frowns, puffs out smoke and offers it to her. she takes it, takes a drag,
“of course it does, love. everything about you matters,”
she doesn’t respond because she doesn’t know how. she sees i regret it painted on the wall opposite. she blinks and it’s gone.
“i might head home,” she tells him, has another drag before offering it back. their fingers brush and she hates that it feels like she’s just been hit by fucking lighting.
“why? you bored of us?”
“your band sucks,” she quips back and he makes a noise like he’s wounded and she smiles despite herself. she hears ashton call his name and he takes a last drag, before dropping it to the floor and stubbing it out with his boot.
“I gotta go back in. please stay?” he asks, eyes big and she is weak under them, “please? I’ll let you drive back home if you stay,” he grins and damn.
“fine. but only ‘cause i love your car,” she says, and he gives her a kiss. they don’t usually kiss in public, and she stiffens,
“there’s no one here,” he reminds her, and pecks her lips again before leading them back inside.
when they finish, an hour later, ashton asks if they want to go out, and calum looks at her. she doesn’t want to, but she nods anyway and they both smile at her,
“can i still drive?” she asks, and calum rolls his eyes but drops his keys into her hand, and they pile into his car, and she readjusts his seat again.
“how come i never get to drive your car?” ashton asks from the back,
“you can when you look like that,” calum replies, gesturing to her. it makes her ears feel hot, and her stomach tight,
the bar is already busy, it’s not late but it’s the city and bars are open all day for a reason. she orders a double vodka and lemonade, and she drinks it quickly. he looks at her oddly, as he sips at a much more reasonable pace from his cider. she orders another, and she’s on her third by the time they’ve just ordered a second, and he puts his arm around her waist,
“why’re you drinking so fast?” he whispers in her ear, and it trickles down her neck like ice.
“i’ve had a very long hard day,” she tells him seriously and he grins, kissing her cheek. she can’t fucking help but smile back.
she needs him more than he needs her, she thinks.
she wants to go home halfway through her fourth. calum is having a good time, laughing and joining in conversations that she doesn’t want to interrupt, so she slides out from the booth and pulls out her phone to call for an uber that she can’t really afford, and then turns to say goodbye. calum frowns and follows her outside, pulls out a smoke and offers her one too.
“how come you’re leaving?” he asks and she shrugs,
“m’tired, and a little tipsy,”
“i could drive you home, you didn’t need to call an uber, i’ve only had one,”
she shakes her head before he’s finished talking, “no, it’s okay, really. stay with your friends,”
“our friends,” he says quietly. she doesn’t think they’ll still be her friends when calum leaves her, “can you just -,” he pauses, drags his cigarette, “can you just tell me what’s going on? don’t say it’s nothing because i know you and -”
“d’you regret it?” she says, almost whispers, and sucks her smoke, blows it out and tries to blow away her words too.
“regret what?” he asks, confused,
“me. us! or us fucking, i don’t know which part it is you regret and i need you to tell me almost as much as i don’t want to know,”
he blinks at her, and she sighs in frustration,
“stop looking at me like that! you text ashton saying you regret sleeping with me. is it just sleeping with me? or is it-”
“you read my texts?” he says, eyebrows pushed together in irritation now. she wants to cower away from it.
“yeah? yes, i’m sorry, i know i shouldn’t have, and i didn’t mean anything by it! it was just ash, i was just scrolling and there was a text saying you regret -” she takes a breath, it hiccups a little and he keeps watching her with a hard stare and she hates it, “saying you regret all of it. what’s all of it, calum? what did you mean, do you still, i-”
she stops herself from rambling her insecurities, and watches as he continues to stare, watches as he brings the cigarette up to his mouth and she copies, just for something to occupy this horribly unwelcome silence.
“you shouldn’t have read my texts,” he says and she huffs because that’s it?
“why? what else would i have found?” she swallows, stubs out her smoke when she sees her uber pull up, “y’know, i really don’t want to know. i don’t. i’ll see you later, cal,”
he doesn’t say anything as he watches her walk passed him with dark eyes, and she feels a bit like crying. she’s fucked it. she slides into the car and tells her driver her address. she gazes out the window as the car starts to move, and then jumps half out of her goddamn skin when the door opens again and he falls down next to her.
“what?” she asks but he ignores her, stares pointedly at the driver who checks to make sure no one else is about to jump in his car, before pulling away. the entire drive is excruciating. he still doesn’t talk as they arrive, he just leans forward and pays the driver, ignores her attempts to protest and leaves the car. slams the door behind him. the driver looks at her in the mirror and she ducks from it, and follows calum to her flat.
he still isn’t talking. why isn’t he fucking talking? he paces her flat with a hand in his hair and she thinks she might suffocate from the silence.
“calum?” she asks weakly and he stops, turns to look at her, his hand still in his hair, “calum,” she says again, desperately.
“i sent that text the night we came back from europe,” he says, voice quiet. she waits for the rest without breathing, “when we got back and i came straight here and we got high and had sex,”
“i remember,” she tells him, “but why’d you regret it? did i do something?”
“no,” he says sharply and she bites her lip. he moves towards her until he’s close enough to take her lip from between her teeth. she lets it go uselessly. she doesn’t want to let him go.
“i don’t know how to explain it,” he says, irritated and tense and she hates this.
“I guess we know why we’ve never talked about it,” she says, tries to joke and he looks at her and nods once,
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he admits and she opens her mouth but he stops her by talking quicker than she can, “we should, though. I just don’t know how.”
“just tell me. you can tell me anything. everything. i thought you knew that,”
“I do!” he yells and she tenses her shoulders, “i do which is exactly why it’s so fucking hard! because everything with you, with us is easy! it’s easy and its good and it works so as soon as we talk about it, it’s going to become something that’s not easy,”
he flops down on her sofa and rubs a hand roughly over his face. she stays where she stands.
“we were friends. and then we became good friends. and then we fucked. and then we just - we kept being good friends and we kept fucking.”
she knows all of this, obviously, but she lets him talk it out. he needs it.
“and i’m always away, y’know? i’m never home, not enough and that’s okay, that’s great for me. i love being in a band, i love being in my band and i love playing shows and being with the boys everyday and being somewhere new everyday,” he’s ranting now, hand still over his face so he can’t see her and it’s easier this way, “and when i come home, i want to spend every fucking second with you. and we do, and you let me, you want me here just as much as i want to be here and i don’t know what it fucking means.”
“hey,” she whispers, and she tries to peel his hand away from his face. he’s reluctant, but he lets her, and she laces them together firmly. tightly. tries to show him that she doesn’t want to let go.
“and i regret it,” he whispers and it’s a fucking bombshell and she doesn’t have time to protect herself from the shardnel.
he looks at her. conflict is written all over his tragically pretty face.
“i can’t - i don’t know how to say it right. i regret it -”
“stop saying that,” she begs, “please just. just don’t say it again.” and she has tears in her eyes now. he hates himself for it.
“i don’t regret you.” he says firmly, “it’s not that i regret. it’s not. you’re -” he laughs a little, “fuck, you’re everything.”
“i don’t understand,” she admits thickly. he reaches a thumb out to swipe at a just falling tear.
“me either,” he mumbles and then, “i just don’t know how we’re supposed to do this. when i do what i do. and when people always find out everything about me. i hate it. i like having you as mine. but you’re not,”
“i am,” she says earnestly, “god, calum. i’m yours in every sense of the fucking word.”
“how can you be? when i’m never home. if you’re mine, how can we work when i’m never home to make this work with you?”
“you’re not never home.” she disagrees, “we’ve had the past year, cal. and europe was only a couple of months. this tour isn’t the longest you’ve ever done. we’ve been apart before, but you always come home and nothing is ever different. you come home and it’s like you never left,”
“yeah, but how can i ask you to wait for me?” he asks, and he sounds so dejected. she is so so in love with him.
“and yes we can keep living like this. as long as you’re here i will live like this,” she quotes quietly and he gazes at her like he won’t believe her. can’t and won’t are two very different things.
“you love that song,”
“and i love -” she stops herself. both of their eyes widen. she wants to say it. she can’t. she won’t. she doesn’t know which one it is.
“c’mere,” he mumbles, tugs her until she falls on his lap, she pushes herself up on his chest until she’s sat where she’s comfy, “d’you mean it?”
RFA + Saeran's reaction to a Mint Eye brainwashed MC and their attempts to snap her out of it? :o
RFA + Saeran reacting to MC brainwashed by Mint Eye
★ Yoosung ★
When you were kidnapped, he was crushed. When he found you, he was overfilled with joy. When you tried to kill him, he was heartbroken.
He took you back to the apartment with you slouched under his arms and a begrudging look on your face.
He watched as you cut yourself off from the world, barricading yourself in your room.
Yoosung tried to connect with you again, show you affection, but you pushed him away and always yelled at him.
He tried to get you back, but you rejected him and put yourself in a bubble.
So he did the only thing he could think to do.
Crouched in the corner at the back of the room, you watched as the avatars on the screen fought with each other, and you listened to the weird action music that played in the background.
One day, you approached him and asked what he was doing.
Hiding his smile, he told you of the game like you’d never heard of it before. He pulled a chair besides him and showed you every aspect of the game.
“I… I like this game,” you softly said.
Yoosung grinned, taking your hand and watching as you looked at in shock. “I know you do.”
Soon, he helped you to set up an account, create a character, and join his guild.
As time went by, you two played LOLOL and began to connect with each other again. He watched as your dull face became bright once again, and how you smiled more often than not. And for you, you were falling in love all over again.
♪ Zen ♪
Your palm made hard connection with his face, and yet he took it, knowing it didn’t compare to the pain he felt when he found you in a fragile state, already broken and abused, and your mind so buried deep.
He wouldn’t allow you to be succumbed by the darkness, so he stook by you.
But it was hard. You were once a very gentle, kind girl, but now you’d become hateful and cruel.
You would call him ugly, tried to pull out his hair, scratched at his face.
When you finally fell asleep, outside your door he slid to the ground with his head in his hands.
More than anything, he wanted to just cry and break down, but he wanted to remain strong for you. But it was so hard to watching you crack in front of him.
Without really thinking, he started singing; the cutie pie song.
He used to sing it to you when you were stressed, upset, scared, or if you just asked him to. So against the door, he started to sing it. He didn’t expect a response.
And yet he got one.
“Why… why do I know that song?” he heard through the door. Your voice cracked as you cried behind the door, confused with everything.
Zen rested his head against the door, smiled, and whispered, “You love that song.”
“I… I do.”
You started to warm up to him, still kept your distance from him sometimes, but you began to talk to him again, hang out with him.
It felt like a dark cloud was finally dispersing, and the sunlight was consuming you and bringing you back to sanity.
And you realized the sunlight was Zen, and that he waited it out until the dark cloud had disappeared. Never leaving you.
❀ Jaehee ❀
She watched as you aimlessly stared out the window, the liveliness of your soul having withered away, now turning you into a brittle shell.
You never responded besides a grunt every so often. She sighed, heading back to the kitchen feeling defeated and hopeless.
She twiddled with the ring on her finger, the one you gave her for her birthday.
She wondered if she would ever get you back to your regular self again, or if this would be what it’s like for the rest of your life.
No way was she willing to give up, but she could admit that same routine of trying to get you to talk to her become tiring.
She sat behind you on the couch, sipping on her coffee and just staring at your back. She pulled out the remote and switched the TV on. Usually, she’d put on something she knew you really enjoyed, but it didn’t have the same effect like it used to.
This time, she put on Zen’s musical, kicking back and relaxing while keeping a close eye on you.
However, she was so engrossed with Zen’s talents and look that while she watched the DVD, she hadn’t realized you had turned towards the TV and were watching too, just as attentive as she.
Jaehee’s face lit up when she saw you watching. Progress! She’s making progress. “Would you like me to turn it up? Do you want to sit with me?”
You look towards her, a little tentative at first, but slowly nodded and crawled over to her, sitting on the floor with your head resting on the cushions.
This was the first time in ages Jaehee didn’t feel so hopeless or futile. You had finally moved from your seat at the window to next to her, to watch a film.
She felt so happy, and as if she could just sink into the couch with pure joy.
☂ Jumin ☂
“Get away from me!”
He recoiled back, evident pain on his face from your dismissal to his affection, but he understood.
You were not in your right mind. In fact, you weren’t even yourself at this point. You were a whole other person.
He did everything money could do with taking you to therapy, getting you any medication necessary.
But you rejected all of it, throwing tantrums and screaming at him to leave you alone. It broke his heart every day to see you so disoriented.
He thought back to the days where you’d both sit outside in the garden and sip on wine, holding each others hands and snuggling close to each other.
Now if he ever came into a miles radius of you, you would lash out.
The guards told him you were a threat to his safety and you should be sent to a hospital, but he refused to let you go and he refused to give up on you.
He knew if he kept trying or just kept faith, that you would one day come back to him.
But it was taking so long.
Until he saw you lying on the ground, but not alone. Elizabeth tucked under your arm struggling. He noticed you were crying. You looked up at him with puffy eyes and whimpered,
“Why does she struggle? Why doesn’t she like me? Why does nobody love me?”
From across the room, he slowly sat down on the floor and gave you a gentle smile.
“I love you.”
You shook your head frantically, sputtering, “No, you don’t. You don’t love me, they told me that-”
“They lied to you. I love you so much. I love you with all my heart, and I will always love you.”
The tears continued to pour as you hunched downwards and cried into your palms, wiping at your face furiously every so often.
Slowly, tentatively, he approached you and knelt before you. Gently taking your hands in his. For the first time since he found you, you didn’t recoil or flinch, but instead looked up into his gray eyes pleading for help.
Carefully, he pulled you against his chest and allowed you to cry into his shirt, his hand running up your back and petting your hair.
“I’ll always love you.”
☺ Seven/Saeyoung ☺
Seven watched as you destroyed the robo cat with your shoe, screaming at it to shut up and leave you alone, that you hated it.
There was once a time you loved that robot, and a time you treasured it.
He wanted to curl into a ball and cry, anguished at have to see you suffer.
He remembered rescuing Saeran, and the trauma his brother went through, and now you were going through it. Seven didn’t want to deal with this again, and yet he had to.
Seven restrained you, holding your arms behind your back as you repeated the same thing Saeran once tried to do;
Take a knife and plunge it through your heart.
You spat in his face, kicked at him, struggled, and he didn’t let you go.
He held onto you and finally started to cry into your hair,
And that was when you stopped.
You were confused to why he was crying and blubbering such incoherent words into your tangled hair. You turned your head to look at him, but he was holding onto you so tightly you couldn’t move.
“Why are you crying? Stop crying. I don’t like it,” you snapped. You felt pain in your heart, but not the usual pain you had. You didn’t recognize this pain as you listened to him cry.
“Stop it,” you repeated yourself. “Stop it!”
But he kept crying, and soon you found yourself crying as you finally realized why the pain in your heart was so different.
It was because it hurt to see him break against you.
You wanted to make it stop, but you didn’t know how. You couldn’t find the right words like you once could. You knew you still loved him deep down, you didn’t understand why you were acting the way you were. You didn’t understand what was happening to you.
You wanted to comfort him but you couldn’t.
“Saeyoung, please stop crying. I don’t want to hear you cry.”
The redhead stopped, sniffling and turning you around in his arms. He went to wipe away your tears but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist and looking up into his equally tearful eyes.
“I’ll try,” you started. “I will. Please help me.”
When you woke up from your daze, you were confused and scared and you lashed out, trying to get out of his grip as he took you to your room.
He left you alone for a bit, knowing all too much about the power of the elixr you were surely given. He banged his fist against the wall repeatedly, cursing himself for not protecting you better and not being stronger.
This was the time for him to be strong, he determined.
You never gave up on him, and he was not going to give up on you.
He entered the room you were in; the room that was both of yours, and yet he hadn’t been in that bed for over a week.
You recognized him. You remembered him. You still loved him. You knew you two were together. And yet you couldn’t stand the thought of him near you. You couldn’t stand to look at his face or hear his voice.
So you shied away.
When he started to talk, you covered your ears and pulled your knees to your chest.
He came into your room about 10 times a day to tell you about what was going on in the RFA, what was on the news, what he read in his books, and every time, you covered your ears and hid your face.
One day he didn’t come in, and it confused you.
You wanted him to come although you knew you would turn away from him. Pulling yourself off the ground, you went to look for him.
It was a huge step just to open the door, and yet you did. You walked around the house, your feet against the cold hardwood floor.
You heard the television and followed the sound. There you saw him on the couch watching TV, eating a bowl of ice cream.
You turned your head and said, “Why did you come to me?”
Saeran looked back at you and told you he thought you didn’t want to see him. He watched as you resisted moving your arms to cover your ears, and it made him smile. He asked if you wanted to sit with him, watch the television too.
Slowly, you sat next to him on the other side of the couch, and every so often moved closer and closer until your head rested against his shoulder.
He grinned, finally feeling like things were going back to normal. You had made a lot of progress just by getting out the door. He was so happy and proud. And god, he just loved you.
He’d always stick by your side, and he’d always protect you for the rest of his life.
Check out my masterlist page to see rules for requests!
I really don’t think I have the right to say sorry for disappearing anymore nor will I say I am back for good. Working through a few requests at the moment so you can at least expect some contents in the next few days!
This was sort of inspired by Sam Smith’s Too Good At Goodbyes and the timeline is pretty blurry/mixed here and as per usual, there are probably mistakes here and there and it’s a little bit over 1500 words too, if that is any form of compensation. So I hope you will still enjoy this!
takes every ounce of control you have to not react to what your son has just
told you. You hum in response, a little bit thankful that you have your back
turned to him, as you finish making tea for the both of you. Pouring the tea in
the mugs, you turn around to give one to Damian – who is staring, no, it is a
cross between glaring and frowning at you – before taking a seat beside him.
said yes.” Damian grips the mug tightly, not even minding the fact that the mug
is still fairly hot. What he does mind is the lack of response from you.
pull the comforter over your lap, very well aware that your son is glaring
holes on your face. It takes a few seconds for you to slowly nod your head.
Damian continues to look at you and you bring the mug up to your lips, sipping
the tea but unfortunately, the news he brought with him made the tea taste
rarely ever cut off Damian having been one of the few adults that would
actually listen to him but this time, it is different and the surprise
definitely shows on his face when you not too gently set your mug on the coffee
table in front of you.
I am not sure what you want me to do… or to say.” You begin carefully. You
cannot lie and say that hearing the news from Damian instead of Bruce did not
hurt you because it did – mostly because you had expected Bruce to be the one
to tell you a news this big. “Your father and I…,” You shake your head as you
try to reign in your scattered thoughts. “I understand that you do not like
Selina but once upon a time, you also did not like me either.” You had to smile
at this – Damian has the decency to flush lightly before bristling in anger, or
annoyance – you could not tell at this point.
is different!” He hisses and you narrow your eyes at him and he visibly
deflates before placing his mug on the coffee table. “Sorry for raising my
voice at you, mother.” He grumbles and you nod your head, prompting him to
continue talking. “It is just that she is not a good match for him – and I do
not want her.”
times like this, you really wish you can string words together eloquently but
you understand that change is something hard for Damian to accept and trying to
coerce him to accept Selina will probably result in the opposite. Deep down
inside, you cannot help but feel a tad bit happy to know that Damian is feeling
this way – no one ever said you were not petty.
what has happened, Damian is still your son and he still thinks of you very
highly too – he never lets you forget, neither of them ever do too – and your
opinion and understanding are two of the things he often seeks from you. The
same can be said for the rest of the boys too even though you have separated
to overlook the hurt and the tinge of regret, you decide to push this matter to
the back of your head, filling it for when you actually have a moment to
yourself. You simply decide to do what you think Damian actually needs from
you: you wrap your arms around him and pull Damian in your arms, burying your
nose in his hair. Tears well up in your eyes as you take a whiff of his scent –
he smells just like him and suddenly you feel very tired and sad. It takes
Damian a few seconds to wrap his own pair of arms around you, relaxing in your
embrace. This is how the two of you spent the night – just you comforting your
son in the best way you can think of and Damian basking in your warmth. The
same warmth that has been missing from the manor for the past year.
next morning is a whole different story. You had woken up to Damian preparing
breakfast for you and it almost touched you that he still remembers all of your
breakfast food – you had wanted to do the same for him but he had beat you to
it. The two of you did not talk about the news he brought last night and when
it was time for Damian to return back to the manor, you let him leave with a
as you think you finally have time to think about the news, Jason comes in
through your window. If you were anyone else, you probably would have been
surprised and screamed bloody murder but alas, you were used to it. The two of
you had a staring contest for the longest of times before Jason pads over to
you, wrapping his arms around you.
sorry, Ma.” He murmurs.
simply tighten your hands on the back of his jacket, shaking your head. You did
not need the pity – you have made your grave and now, you simply need to lay in
you want something to eat?” You ask after a while, finally pulling away from him.
Jason looks at you. “I have leftovers from breakfast – Damian made some of my
favourites.” You explain, pulling Jason to the kitchen.
Jin’s practically shaking with laughter as he tells you his anecdote, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, but really, you’re only half-listening.
“And then Kookie, he said-” Jin cuts himself short when he looks at you from across the table, his eyebrows starting to pull downward into a frown as he realises how little you’re actually paying attention. Usually you’d be laughing along with him - you’ve got the same lame sense of humour he does, and he loves you for it - but tonight you’re just staring at your plate, poking at your food, and it’s starting to unsettle him. “Jagi, is everything ok?”
“Hm?” you ask distractedly, only glancing up at him for a moment before your eyes drop once more.
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s fine, Jin, I’m just… I’ve just gone off fish a little lately,” you tell him. It’s a lame excuse, but you’d rather tell him that than tell him the truth - tell him that the reason you can’t eat is because you feel so nauseous with anxiety that you might throw up if you eat anymore.
“Ah, it’s a good job I made your favourite dessert then!” he says enthusiastically, getting up from the table and whisking your still-full plate out from in front of you to take it to the kitchen. “Can’t have you going hungry.”
God, why does he have to be so sweet all the time? So god damn perfect? It’ll only make it feel so much worse when it eventually falls apart - and you know it will, because when you’re involved everything always does. It’s inevitable.
“You know what, I think I might just go home,” you say quickly, before he’s even managed to pull on his gloves to take out the apple pie you can smell cooking in the oven. He falters, coming to a standstill between the kitchen counters, and when you finally bring yourself to look at him it makes your heart thud painfully. “I don’t feel too good.”
“Ok, let me drive you-”
“It’s fine, I’ll get a cab.” If you say ‘it’s fine’ one more time this evening you think you might punch yourself in the face. It’s not fine, nothing is, but you know it’s best you pull away a little now, before you both get in too deep. At least it might help to soften the blow.
“Ok….” you hear him mumble as he turns off the oven and you pull on your coat. He walks you to the door, and now it’s him that can’t look at you. “Hope you feel better soon.”
“See you soon?”
“See you soon,” you reply, and it feels like a goodbye.
“So I was thinking; there’s a new Mexican place that’s opened,” Yoongi tells you, his voice sounding even lower than usual over the phone after he’s clearly just woken up. “You wanna go check it out sometime?”
“Hm… I dunno,” you mumble, rolling over in bed, your cell smushed between your ear and the pillow.
“C’mon, their churros are supposed to be the shit.” Despite yourself, you end up smiling at Yoongi’s words. You wish you hadn’t though. That momentary flicker of happiness now just makes you feel all the more miserable as you stare at the picture of Yoongi and you you’ve got pinned to your bedside cabinet.
“I don’t really like Mexican food…” You’re trying so hard to find an excuse not to make plans, to avoid seeing him for a little while. It’s not that you don’t care about Yoongi. Jesus, you most definitely do - but therein lies the problem. It’s starting to feel scary now, how close you’re becoming. You’re seeing each other too often, he’s texting you every day, and it feels wrong now if you go to sleep without hearing him say goodnight. This growing dependency on him, this vulnerability; it’s terrifying.
“Since when?” he scoffs, and all you can do in reply is sigh. There’s a silence on the other end of the line, and in the end you have to roll away from that picture of the two of you that you love so much. His eyes are too penetrating, too perceptive, even in a frozen image. “What about chinese then? You love chinese.” He’s right, you do, and there’s no way you can deny that - not when the last time you went you ended up stuffing your face so much that he had to nurse you with a bad belly for the rest of the night.
“Can I maybe just take a raincheck? I’ve got so much work to do, Yoongi, and I’m sure you’re busy too.”
There’s silence again but this time it feels uncomfortable, and it’s making you fidget even without being able to see the frosty expression you know he’ll be wearing right now.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, Noona? I’ve done it enough times myself to know when someone’s holding back.” You swallow hard, staring at the wall and starting to chew your thumbnail nervously. What are you supposed to say when he’s called you out like that; made you feel like the idiot you know you are?
He gives you an adequate amount of time to reply, to turn back from this road you’re travelling down, but when no response comes you hear him sigh, even his voice turning cold when his next words travel into your ears.
“Either call me when you’re ready to get real, or don’t bother calling me at all.”
“Ah, babygirl, that was amazing.” Hobi’s still panting from exertion as he lies next to you, staring at the ceiling with the goofiest of grins on his faces. He’s always like this after you’ve had sex, always deliriously happy, like every time you do it is his first time, and you know what’s coming next.
He rolls onto his side, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to cover your naked, sticky bodies and then snuggling closer, slinging his arm over his hip and pulling you close, sweat be damned. He always gets so affectionate too, so tactile when he’s dosed up on oxytocin, and though at first you loved it, lately it’s become nothing but a source of anxiety to you. It’d be fine if cuddling was all it was, but it’s not just that. No, Hobi insists on lying there staring at you like you’re his everything, his entire world, his eyes taking in every little of your face until you end up laughing and batting him away, telling him to stop being such a freak.
You don’t want him to look at you like that and nor do you want to be placed on his pedestal; not when you know it’ll make your inevitable fall from grace so much higher and more painful. You don’t deserve all these loving looks and touches, not when you’re going to break his heart. Though you don’t yet know how it’ll happen yet you know it will, because it’s just what you do.
“I wish we could do this all day, every day,” he says wistfully, reaching up to thumb your cheek, staring back into your eyes. You try to diffuse things with humour, rolling your eyes and pushing his hand away from your face, trying to ignore the way hurt flickers across his face.
“That’s ‘cus you’re a horny bastard, Hobi.” You sit up to put some distance between you, running your fingers through your hair to try and put it right. Of course, he then sits up too, smoothing out the part of your hair at the back you can’t see to fix with his gentle hands.
“Not just for that,” he persists, smiling cheekily, “I just like having you here, sex or no sex. C’mon, wouldn’t you love to wake up to this face every morning?”
“I guess,” you answer non-committedly, trying not to let your mind even hope to dream of your life ever being so wonderful. You need to get out of here, before he starts dangling more perfect happy-ever-afters in front of your face, lies that you know will never come true. Finding your underwear you start to get dressed, avoiding the questioning look in Hobi’s eyes.
“I thought you didn’t have to work today?”
“Yeah…” You pull your sweater on, glad that it hides your face, even for just a second. “But I’ve got a lot I need to get done so…”
“I’d kind of… I mean I’d planned on us having the whole day together…” he says quietly, unable to hide the disappointment and confusion on his face. “If I’d known you were gonna go so soon I wouldn’t have-”
“Don’t worry, Hobi, it was fun.” You slip your feet into your shoes, practically running to his bedroom door as soon as they’re on, forcing a false smile on your face. “I had fun.” Fun, that’s all it is… it’s all it was ever supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to end up liking him, needing him, lovin- “Let me know next time you wanna hook up.”
“Hook up,” he repeats, his voice breaking. Hobi looks like you’ve just plunged a knife straight into his heart, and though it breaks your own to see him in so much pain, you know it’s for the best. Better now, rather than later. “Right… sure.”
“So… what do you think?”
What do you think? You think the song you just heard was amazing; one of the best Namjoon’s ever written, and that’s saying a lot when he’s so ridiculously talented to begin with. You’re stunned, dumbstruck by the fact he’d write such beautiful lyrics about you, for you, and if you were a better person you’d probably start to cry with joy that your boyfriend wants to tell the world just how much you mean to him.
But you’re not a good person, not like him, not even close, so instead of telling Namjoon how proud you are of him, how much you’ve come to love him, you say anything you can think of to drive a wedge between you.
“I don’t think you should put it on the album,” you say blankly, trying to keep your face impassive as you look back into his hopeful eyes. “I don’t think the executives would be happy with it.” His face falls, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to fathom you’re unexpected response. You see his jaw clench, and you know he’s trying so hard to brace himself for whatever constructive criticism he thinks is coming. It’s taken a long time for him to learn to do that so graciously; yet another skill he’s mastered.
“You don’t like it? I know the bridge needs some work, but I can fix-”
“The song’s fine, Joonie,” you interrupt, making him pause mid-swivel in his chair to turn back to you rather than his desk. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. ARMY won’t like you shoving your love-life in their faces - they want you guys permanently single so they can keep all their little fantasies about you.” Namjoon seems stunned into silence for a moment, and honestly, you’re a little impressed at just how reasonable your argument sounds too. Cold, yes, but logical. Surely with his big brain Namjoon should be happy enough accept your reasoning and let it lie?
He’s quiet for a long while, face pensive until he finally get up out of his chair and comes to sit beside you, taking your hand.
“I don’t care. We’ve always been able to write write the music we want… how we want it. And the fans want us to be happy.” Well… how do you argue with that? He sits stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while he waits for you to say something, and now your mind has gone blank, unable to think of anything to say that won’t just sound harsh or cruel.
“You might be happy to tell the world about us, Joonie but… I’m not.” Harsh it is then. You take your hand back, clamping both of them between your legs as you look to the floor, avoiding the hurt in his eyes. “We never said this was going to be anything serious.”
“I see.” His voice is tight, controlled as he speaks, suddenly sitting up straighter. He waits for a second, perhaps to see if you’ll sat any more, take it all back, but when you don’t he simply returns to his desk, facing the screen like you’re not even there. “You may as well go home… I’m gonna be up all night trying to re-write this.”
Your phone goes off for what feels like the hundredth time today, an unpleasantly harsh trill that shrieks through your otherwise quiet apartment, and once again you have to fight the urge to look, to read the text you know is waiting for you there. If you look you’re more likely to reply, and you’re trying so, so hard to give yourself some space, to put some distance between you and the man you’re getting far too close to.
You know what it’ll say anyway, more or less. It’ll be Jimin being his usual sweet self, asking if you’re ok, asking you to please, please get back to him. Why aren’t you replying? Are you sure you’re ok? Do you need him to come over? Why are you so quiet? It’s killing you. Every time your phone goes off it feels like a punch to the gut, because you do so desperately want to reply. But you can’t, you mustn’t. You’ve gotten too attached to him, too attached to this perfect boy whom all the girls want to touch.
You’re not stupid. You’ve seen his fan-pages, you’ve seen the things they say about him. And it’s not like you can blame them, but you’re too insecure to deal with having a boyfriend who’s wanted by so many. You’ve been cheated on once before, and it’ll only be a matter of time before Jimin realises he’s too good for you and does the same; finds another girl who’s prettier and thinner and more interesting than you. It’s better for you to protect yourself now, to pull away while you still can, before it’s too late.
So you ignore his messages even as tears roll down your cheeks, lying on the sofa and holding yourself, just waiting for it to stop hurting so much. Time passes, although you don’t keep track of how much; all you know is that eventually it goes dark outside, and your tired eyes are just starting to droop when all of a sudden your doorbell rings, jolting you awake again.
You shuffle your way over to the door, half-asleep and wrapped in your blanket, pulling it open before you think to look through the spy-hole to check who it is. Of course it would be Jimin standing there to see you looking like this, like the mess that you are, his eyes widening as he takes in your bloodshot eyes.
“Oh baby… baby, what’s wrong?” He steps inside before you can stop him, wrapping you up in his arms over the top of your blanket, pulling your head into the crook of his neck.
You don’t want this, or at least for second you try to tell yourself that you don’t… but it’s just no use. Relenting, you let yourself be held by him, inhaling the scent of his aftershave that’s become synonymous with happiness and giving yourself over to it all, at least for now. You let him kiss you with your face in his hands, let him promise you that he’ll make it all ok, and you let yourself believe in this lie, just for a little while longer.
“You know I love you… Whatever it is, baby, we’ll fix it… I love you,” he tells you over and over, his face pressed into your hair and all you can do is cry because you know you love him too, and you know it’ll never be enough.
“Tae, Tae, stop it!” you giggle, trying your best to throw him off whilst ensuring you’re clenching your pelvic floor as hard as you possibly can; he’s be tickling you for what feels like forever now, and you’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction of peeing yourself for him to tease you about that too.
“Not until you call me Oppa!” he shouts back, sat on your stomach, his bony fingers digging into your ribs as he grins down at you. He’s such a masochist - you know he’s getting off on this really, watching you squirm and struggle.
“You’re like one month older than me, weirdo!”
“Op-pa!” he persists, accentuating every syllable, his eyes narrowing when you shake your head. His fingertips start to creep towards your armpits, your weakest spot, and no matter how hard you try to push his hands away he’s just too strong. You barely make it ten seconds before you’re shouting ‘oppa’ over and over again, tears streaming from your eyes, just wanting it to end. Finally, he relents, sitting up with a satisfied smirk on his face.
That’s when you chose your moment to strike. You reach out to twist his nipples through his shirt, grinning wickedly, but before you can do anything Taehyung’s grabbed both your wrists and pinning them above your head, growling like an animal. A beat passes where you just look at each other, both out of breath, and then you’re laughing again, in hysterics as you so often are when you’re together, only stopping when Taehyung eagerly crashes his lips against yours.
You expect the kiss to become more passionate, if anything, so you’re surprised when it gets softer, Tae letting go of your wrists to stroke his hands gently through your hair and down onto your face. When he pulls away, still rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks, there’s something shining in his eyes that you’ve never seen from him before, some emotion that until now has been unknown. You know exactly what it is though, you know because it’s exactly the same thing you can feel swelling in your own chest.
He opens his mouth to speak, and that’s when you panic. You’re not ready to hear those words again, and you’re certainly not ready to say them again. Not after last time, not after what happened when-
You sit up abruptly, pushing him off you and hurrying to stand, grabbing your jacket from the sofa to leave before Taehyung snatches it back from your hand after having stood up almost as quickly as you. He look so confused, his mouth hanging open, head tilted to the side as he tries to make sense of your sudden and unexpected change in behaviour.
“Just don’t say it, Tae,” you snap, snatching your jacket back but just holding it there by your side, fist clenched, “I don’t want to hear it, ok? Don’t say it, because you can’t take it back.”
“Jagiya…” he whispers softly, his eyes starting to mist over with moisture, chin practically trembling as you flinch away from the touch of his hand.
“Just… just leave it, please?” You sound like you’re begging, on the verge of tears now too, and before he can try to reach out to you again you run from his apartment, leaving Taehyung to dissolve into tears, wondering how on earth it all suddenly went so wrong.
He’s been getting possessive lately - it’s all too obvious for anyone who looks to see. Every time you hang out with the rest of the group he keeps getting all… handsy. Not in an inappropriate way or anything, but any time you’re talking to another guy he’ll just casually wrap his arm around your waist or lay it across your shoulder, like he’s subtly marking his territory.
You’re sure other girls wouldn’t mind. They’d probably love to have someone like Jungkook lay his claim on them, thrilled to be considered such a prize worth protecting, but when he does it to you all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend and how he used to be exactly the same. Jealous, possessive, irrational, constantly accusing you of cheating even though he was the one that was fucking your best friend behind your back. Ex-best friend, should you say.
There’s a lot of ex’s in your past, for one reason or another, and that’s why after a few dates you’re still resisting Jungkook’s attempts to make the two of you into something more. You can do without another ex to add to your list, thank you very much, no matter how much you can feel him getting under your skin with each and every day that passes. That’s just another reason why you want to keep him at arm’s length - you can’t afford to let yourself be vulnerable. Not again. You’re not letting anyone hurt you like that ever again.
Jungkook seems to be feeling particularly threatened today, though you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s because of the skirt you’re wearing, or maybe it’s the way Yoongi keeps looking at you from across the room, but either way it’s starting to get your back up. He doesn’t own you, and it’s the desire to show Jungkook exactly that that eventually drives you across to the other side of the studio to sit down next to Yoongi, smiling like a cheshire cat.
You can feel his eyes on you the moment you strike up a conversation, eyes that you pointedly ignore, choosing instead to act like everything Yoongi says is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. You lean your body into his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you laugh, placing your hand on his thigh and leaving it to linger there far longer than necessary. Yoongi’s loving every second of it, lapping it up until Jungkook finally snaps and comes striding over, trying to look casual and failing miserably at doing so.
“Namjoon wants you,” he tells Yoongi, not even looking at his elder as he says it. No, his eyes are fixed on you, full of both anger and hurt, and the moment Yoongi gets up with a groan Jungkook is taking his spot, flopping down at your side. You see him tick his head to the side, clenching his jaw in the silence that follows, and find yourself smiling before you can help it at his adorable habit.
God damn it, you really need to put a stop to this now, before you get even more attached than you already are.
“Why were you acting like that?” he asks after a moment, once he’s sure the rest of his friends are sufficiently preoccupied.
“Acting like what?” you reply, sounding as innocent as possible, and you know it’s pissing him off because his jaw clenches again, his hands balling into fists and relaxing again where they hang over his knees.
“Flirting with Yoongi like that. You were all over him.”
“So?” you blurt out, only realising after you’ve already said it just how cold and callous you sound. Jungkook actually looks taken aback when you turn your head to the side to look at him, his usually soft, doe eyes widened in confusion, no anger left to see.
“So…?” he repeats quietly. You stare him out, trying not to flinch at the sharp feeling of guilt that stabs through you when he falters first, turning his head with a shake and looking to the ground, swallowing against the lump you can guess that’s forming in his throat. “I thought…”
“We’ve been on like… what… four dates, Jungkook?” You sound condescending and cruel, and you hate yourself for it. What a heartless bitch those exs have turned you into, huh? “You can’t tell me you thought it was serious?”
A/N: i really like this! i hope you guys do too! send me suggestions and ideas please! also, if you would like me continue this please say so!
SUMMARY: due to his girlfriend who drove you crazy, you hadn’t spoken to jimin in months. he had also distanced himself from you, and he didn’t seem to mind too much… or at least you thought so.
You and Jimin had split ways for a few months once he had gotten a girlfriend. He spent less and less time with you, and you were more than just slightly jealous. You had liked him since the two of you met, a little bit over a year ago. At times, you believed that he felt the same, but at others you didn’t think so at all. Jimin was a confusing creature to you, and you never could understand him. Especially when he called you in tears, apologizing and begging for you to come by the dorms.
“Jimin, I’m busy studying,” you sighed. Although you desperately wanted to go lay in his arms and hold him, you had priorities. Jimin whimpered, obviously sobbing about something that had absolutely tore him apart. “I can’t, okay? Plus, we haven’t spoken in months. Why would I come over even if I could?” You heard Jimin continuing to cry on the line, and your heart ached. He was your soft spot, and no time away from him could change that. If someone hurt your Chim, then they had hurt you worse. Sitting on your bed surrounded by textbooks, you let out a sigh. “Jimin, answer me.”
“I miss you. I’m sorry that I ever abandoned you to hang out with her. You should have been over her on my list of friends, and I’m sorry. Forgive me, please,” Jimin choked out the words. You bit your tongue, glancing at the time on your phone. It was an early Thursday morning, meaning you had classes at eleven. “Y/N, I left you and the boys to hang out with her. She didn’t even treat me good, so I’m a fool. I should have just spent my time with you guys, because you’re far more important.”
“Jimin, I don’t have time to hear you rant. Go talk to Taehyung…”
“Y/N! Don’t you hear me!” Jimin cried out, and I ran my hand through my hair. He was in pain, and he knew that he could get my attention. He cried on the line, his hiccuping sobs in the background. “Taehyung told me to come to you. All of the boys want me to talk to you. I messed up our friendship, and I want to fix this. The boys said that you haven’t been the same since I started dating that witch. I’m sorry that I ever did that to you. Please forgive me; I don’t want you to ignore me.”
I replied, “Jimin.” He whined softly, completely shattering me. He wanted me to come over, and that was clear. He wouldn’t be calling me if he just wanted to repair his mistakes. I let out a deep breath, not realizing I had held it in. His voice sounded familiar, although he was not in the best condition. He was familiar, and I had missed him dearly. “I understand you’re upset about what you did, but I can’t just forgive you. I want to —I really do— It’s just that I can’t. You… You weren’t there for me, and why should I be there for you?”
“You shouldn’t,” Jimin hiccuped. “I’m an awful friend and I didn’t appreciate you like I should have. You should yell at me and hang up the phone. You should block my number and tell the boys to never bring me around. You should avoid coming to the dorms whenever I’m here, and try to have the boys over at your apartment instead. You shouldn’t listen to me cry and beg, but you are. I love you, Y/N. You are the best person possibly in my life, and I don’t know why I ever pushed you out. Y—”
“Jimin, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
It didn’t take you long to arrive at the dorms, and when you knocked at the door, Namjoon instantly opened it. His eyes were wide, and he let out a well deserved sigh. You could hear Jimin crying, and you watched as Jungkook waved at you over Namjoon’s shoulder. You had remained close to the rest of the boys, but nothing compared to what your relationships were like before. Namjoon moved out of the way for you, and you slipped off your shoes as you entered the dorms.
Jungkook led you around the corner, and you saw Jimin lying on the couch, covered in blankets. He hugged a pillow, not even realizing your arrival. His sobbing covered up all noise in the dorms, and you saw Jin trying to cheer him up. Jin held soup in his hands; soup that made you feel better anytime you needed it. Jin saw you and smiled, believing that you could help get Jimin out of his funk. Whatever had happened, it was probably regarding his girlfriend. Yoongi rested his body against the doorway of his shared room with Jin, his eyes showing his exhaustion. The boys were desperate, and they all knew your visit would help phenomenally.
“Jimin, Y/N is here,” Jin stated, standing up. Jimin immediately stopped screaming, and he looked over in your direction. He looked exhausted, and his face was red and puffy from the tears that left his eyes. Seeing him in that condition, you felt yourself breaking. You couldn’t leave him like that, and you wished you came sooner. “Will you let all of us sleep now? She’ll stay here as long as she can.” Jimin nodded faintly, and Yoongi backed up into his room.
Namjoon placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just get him to sleep and then you can come join one of us if you’d like. Or you can head home, but make sure to tell one of us beforehand. Thank you, Y/N. We’ll repay you in someway one day.” You nodded, seeing how thankful he was in his eyes. You and Namjoon had a weird understanding for each other, and that was probably caused by your work ethics. You were similar in how hardworking and goal-stricken you two were. The boys all thanked you before disappearing into their rooms.
You walked over to the couch where Jimin laid, hearing him whimper out in agony. He was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, and that hurt like hell. You sat on the edge of the couch, and watched as Jimin’s bottom lip quivered. Tears stained his round cheeks, and you took a deep breath. He needed you, and just sitting beside him wasn’t going to help. When it came to Jimin, you knew that he was craving the arms of someone he cared for.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whined quietly.
“N– no, don’t cry,” you stuttered, scooting closer to him. Jimin did exactly the opposite of what you asked of him, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks again. If you hated anything, it was making Jimin cry. “Jiminie… Don’t cry because you’ll make me cry. I don’t want both of us to be crying and disturbing the boys. You all need to rest, Jimin.” He sighed, his hand crawling out from under the blankets. He reached out for your hand, and you didn’t hesitate before latching onto him. You missed his touch. “You’re not going to sleep unless I’m here, are you?” Jimin shook his head.
Jimin scooted over, closer to the back cushions, allowing you to have space next to him. You slowly lifted your feet onto the couch, and felt your heart racing as Jimin covered you up with blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling. You placed your head on his shoulder as he shuffled down and hid his face in your chest. He intertwined your legs, squeezing at the back fabric of your shirt. He had missed you more than anything, and your presence had calmed him down already. He hadn’t realized how much he needed you until then.
“Jimin,” you breathed.
“Please,” Jimin whispered. “Just tonight. Forget about everything I did, and pretend that we are still really close.” You nodded faintly, placing your hands in his hair. You rubbed his scalp, making Jimin sleepy. It wouldn’t take long for him to doze off, but you lie awake, wondering what had gone wrong between the two of you. You had been so close, once upon a time. A girl had ruined all of it, and you wished that you hadn’t allowed her to. Jimin was your world before she came along.
The next morning, Jimin woke up before you. He smelled the fragrance only possibly belonging to Jin’s food. You were wrapped in his arms and fast asleep, and he knew that you wouldn’t wake up as long as he was there. Jin was clearly trying to be quiet, a smile on his lips as he stood in the kitchen wearing an apron. Jimin glanced down at you, seeing you holding onto the fabric of his shirt. He loved every moment of you being engulfed by him, and he realized that he would do anything to keep it that way. He loved you, and he wish he had known sooner.
“Aw,” Taehyung cooed, walking out of his room. Jimin sent a glare in his direction, and Taehyung quickly shut up. Jimin wanted to let you sleep for as long as you could, because once you woke, you both had to face reality. He was in pain because of his ex who cheated, and you were simply being a good friend. Taehyung smiled, leaning over on the couch to get a better view of you two. Taehyung had always had his suspicions about you and Jimin, and he seemed the most pleased out of everyone. You two were happy together.
“Don’t bother them,” Jin pulled Tae away from the couch. Taehyung frowned, and Jimin mouthed thank you to Jin.
You were ever so slowly coming to your senses, but you didn’t want to wake up. You had missed everything about Jimin, and laying there made you regretful for ever letting someone get in the way. Of course you had cuddled with all of the other members, but that was different. They were not Jimin. You felt your eyelids slightly shaking from wanting to open, and Jimin seemed to notice.
“Not yet,” he whispered in you ear. You smiled faintly, knowing he did not want to get up either. Jimin squeezed you lightly, placing his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
my gorgeous wife (@alltoodelicate) is taking me to the reputation tour in dublin for my 22nd birthday and i can’t wait to have the best time dancing the night away whilst watching you shine on stage.
i finally got to see you live for the first time in 2015 at the 1989 tour in germany after waiting, crying and wishing for that moment for 6!! years!! unfortunately, anna couldn’t come with me to the concert since i’d bought my ticket shortly before we got together- yet she was at home constantly posting my pictures online all day in hopes of you or your team noticing me before/during the concert. she’d be there on the phone with me when i came back to my hotel room that night when i was drowned in my own happy tears telling her all about my experience of finally seeing you live.
she’s been staying up with me for all the AM song releases this era, she went out with me and hung up 100 flyers all over the neighbourhood promoting the release of reputation (you actually liked my post with the pictures of me hanging them up recently and i. died.) and then she went and saved up money for tour tickets whilst i thought there wasn’t a possibility we’d even be financially able to see you this tour.
she’s been doing all these ‘taylor swift’ related things with me ever since she came into my life 3.5 years ago. in fact, the first time we finally got to break the distance (*cough* friday the 13th of february 2015 *cough*) she took me to madame tussaud’s in london to see your wax figure because she knew how much you meant to me and on our last day together before i had to go back home to sweden after the most magical week of my life, she gave me a drawing she’d made me- it was a dragon that was surrounded by the words ‘’i had the time of my life fighting dragons with you’’, because she’d remembered that long live is my favourite song of yours.
as you can probably tell by now, she’s honestly the best and she’s constantly making me smile, making me feel safe and at home by just being with me and she’s been doing everything in her power trying to make my dream of meeting you come true, including making these beautiful signs for the concert in hope of you seeing them beforehand and wanting to meet me. i’ve never had anyone root for me and my dreams as much as she does and i can’t believe i got lucky enough to marry her.
i was 13 when your music came into my life and i can’t believe i get to turn 22 at your concert. i’m really no one special, but i hope i get to hug you and thank you in person for being there for me during my saddest and happiest moments for the past 9 years when everyone else would come and go. it would mean the entire universe and more to me.
you have no idea how much I needed this tour to happen right now. it has given me something to look forward to these past few months when i’ve struggled to find a reason to smile. you truly have showed up just in time.
i am so grateful for you and i love and appreciate you so much. thank you for allowing me to grow up with you and for being my best friend for the past 9 years.
summary: “Peter, you could’ve died.” “I almost did.”
When Peter Parker first tells you he’s going to space to fight a big purple monster with the Avengers, you smile and laugh at him.
“Nice one, Parker. What’d you get for thirteen on the Algebra worksheet?”
“No, you’re funny, is what you are.”
You regret not believing him sooner. You regret not holding him tight and telling him that it’ll be okay. You regret all you did so much and all it is is pain and misery and sadness and this sort of emptiness filled with longing. It’s hugs from May when you miss and worry about him, and his sweaters that don’t even smell like him, they’ve been worn too much. It’s staring out your window and hoping he’ll come in with a couple of bruises and maybe a cut or two, taking off his mask and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek before grabbing the first aid kit. It’s hoping he’ll crawl into your window.
It’s occasionally sleeping in Peter’s bed at his Aunt’s. You still get his work from teachers because he will come home he will he will he will — you say that at night like a prayer. It’s support from May and you supporting May, and it’s hanging out with Ned though it feels like something’s — someone’s missing. Someone is. You miss him and so does everyone who ever knew him, even though they think he’s just really sick, or on a vacation, you know better. Ned knows better. May knows better.
On occasion you drive past what used to be Avengers Tower, hoping to see a certain superhero perched on the roof trying to figure out where the new compound is, or calling Happy and flooding his inbox. Or in Delmar’s, scratching Murph and buying gummy worms that he’ll always share with you, know matter how much he scowls at you when you steal them. You take a long look at the sky every few minutes, because maybe they’re coming back and maybe he’ll be safe and maybe maybe maybe — nothing’s for sure. You’re not sure your boyfriend is alive and you live in agony because of it everyday.
The lunch table seems empty. Usually, Peter does all the talking, going on and on to Ned, but now, you, Ned, and MJ sit in a sad silence and just look at each other. You pick at your food, something both Peter and your parents always scolded you about — eat it, it’s good for you — and rest your head in your arms. A single earbud dangles from your ear, always playing Peter’s playlist, or songs that remind you of him. It just makes the longing worse, but then again, so do the pictures in your locker.
The cycle of hopeless longing repeats every single day, as you gaze at the stars, hoping to find a sign of Peter Parker.
Two weeks. Fourteen days full of agonizing longing and tears and days where all the love in the world just stops, and you’re left with a cold and empty heart of frozen lava. Peter Parker can melt the lava with a single touch. You sit in Peter’s room with May, too tired out to cry, just looking. Just staring. At each other, at the pictures on the wall, at his bunk bed where he should be resting right now.
“It’s terrifying to think that something you used to think was forever might be gone,” you start, although you don’t want to make May cry, it had to be said, else you might go insane. You glance at the clock on the wall. “I should get home. Thank you for having me, Mrs. Parker,” you reach over to give her a hug.
“Peter is lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him.”
“Yeah, me too. See you tomorrow.”
The stars look a little more deadly that night. They look like they’re blazing and burning, rather than shining, and you wonder if Peter has burned out. You wonder if the Avengers are mourning in space, maybe not Peter, but another beloved member of the team. You wonder wonder wonder until it starts to hurt and starts to break your heart — because not only is Peter, your sweet, beautiful, boyfriend in danger, but the heroes you’ve gown up with. The heroes that saved your life and so many other lives and they might be dead — gone forever — Captain America, lying in a coffin, Iron Man, six feet under, people crying over the lifeless body of Natasha Romanoff, all of them crying over the corpse of a fifteen year old boy who deserved every single star they were fighting on — Peter had to come home.
Your parents done acknowledge your presence as home, used to the cold tears and straight face permanently painted. Your sneakers lay in the corner of the wall next to the door and your keys jiggle in your pocket. Everything is shaking, your voice, your legs, your hand — your unsteady hand opens the door.
Peter Parker is sitting on your bed. Beautiful, sweet, loving Peter Parker, covered and covered in purple bruises and there’s stitches in his cheeks and there’s burns on his arms and he looks like he’s been to hell and not the stars and a bit of his hair is scorched at the ends and his leg is not supposed to look like that — but he’s alive alive alive, he’s sitting there, on your bed, and not in a coffin, and he’s breathing and he’s alive, albeit not healthy but alive and God, you don’t know what to do. You’re frozen and you bring your hand up to your mouth to muffle the sobs and fall to the ground and this isn’t real it’s not it’s not it’s not — except it is and he really is there and —
“Yeah, Y/N. It’s me, it’s Peter.”
You’re crawling and falling and just trying to make it there and you want to give him the biggest hug but you’re scared, he’s broken.
“Peter, you could’ve died.”
“I almost did. I was so close and then Mr. Stark he — he just punched him in the face and then he — I saw him die, Y/N. I saw Tony Stark die with my own two eyes and I think he took a little bit of me with him.”
You don’t know what to say and nothing’s coming to mind and it’s silent for a few minutes and you just took at him.
“I thought I lost you. May thought she lost you, Ned thought you were gone, MJ thought you dead, Peter. We all almost lost you.”
“Almost.” His voice is soft but it’s cracking and dry and you wonder how much screaming, how many tears, how many other deaths went on up there, and then it hits you. Tony Stark is dead. Peter Parker, the boy who had lost so much, his mom, his dad, his uncle, his everything, had lost yet again another father figure, and he watched him die, again.
“Peter,” you grab his face softly in your hands, like a doll, too scared of the fragile boy in front of you. “I am so proud of you, okay? You are so good and loving, it’s insane, and I’m going to try and help you get through this. With Ben and your mom and your dad you didn’t have me, but I’m here now and I’m gonna try and do my best to help you, okay?” The words keeping pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall and you can’t stop them if you wanted to. “I love you, okay? I love you I love you I love y—“
It’s the first time since he’s left that Peter’s kissing you and you feel your shoulders relax and you feel the tears on his face and the tears on yours and you feel everything that Peter Parker is feeling right then and there — sadness, loss, mourning, exhaustion, burning, stinging, love — everything he feels and it hits you like a tidal wave before you pull back.
You pull him into a hug, careful of his injuries, tugging softly at his hair and running your hands through it, searching and making sure that he’s really here.
“I really thought I was never going to see you again,” Peter cries. “And it was the worst feeling in the world.”
“I know, Peter, I really do, But I’m here and you’re here and I love you so much, okay? We’ll do this together.”
Prompt: You have been crushing on Sweet Pea for a long time now, but he only views you as one of the guys. What happens when you are fed up with it and move on?
Request status: Open
A/N: I created a new character for the sake of the imagine. I pictured the character, Drew, to look like (or be played by if you will) Dylan O’Brien for reference purposes. :)
Having feelings for someone who has been your best friend for years and who sees you as one of the boys is a feeling that makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs. You just wanna grab them by their shoulders and shake it into them that you have felt the way you have for almost three years now. It was more frustrating to you than any other emotion that he couldn’t pick up on the signs you were giving him. Sweet Pea wasn’t a dumb kid–he knew when a girl was flirting with him, but it was like when it came to you, that six sense was turned off. Whether that lack of acknowledgement was intentional or purely innocent, it was evident he was clueless of your feelings for him.
For years now, you had tried to escape his view as a friend and into something more. But to him, you were one of the guys. You’d go out with him, drink, party, hang out, relax, and yet no matter, what you’d still find yourself in the situation of being heartbroken, watching him brush the hair out of another girls eyes and telling you how he wanted to take her home. Everyone noticed how torn you were over the situation. At the Wyrm, Toni and Fangs watched you as you looked at Pea, longingly as he flirted with another girl at the pool table. The sight would make you sick and you had to leave the Wyrm altogether to avoid the situation in front of you.
Toni would always take you home and stay for the night as you ranted to her. You couldn’t fathom how oblivious he was with this. You lay on your bed, pulling at the roots at your hair, tears in your eyes. Toni’s heart would break at the sight of you as she wondered how Sweets could be so oblivious. “Am I not good enough for him? Is that what it is?” you would question, sitting up to ask Toni the genuine question. Maybe he thought that he was out of your league and you were satisfactory for him.
The question would make Toni angry, “Y/N, don’t ever ask me that question. You are worthy of so much happiness and love. Just because a guy doesn’t feel the same way about you doesn’t mean that your self-worth is effected. If Sweet Pea can’t see how incredible you are, then fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you.” You wiped your tears and brought her in for a tight hug.
This cycle continued for a long time. You being happy with how you and Sweet Pea were, to longing stares, to crying to Toni, to reassuring hugs. It was like some sort of sick dream and it was nauseating. You were sick and tired of feeling so upset that you and Sweet Pea weren’t in the relationship you wanted to be. You had tried for three years. That is a long damn time to try and get someone to fall in love with you. So, you told yourself that you were going to get over these romantic feelings for Sweet Pea and move on with your life.
…in which Y/N throws Harry a surprise birthday party, but Harry ends up making her cry.
Warning: fluff, mention of smut, a bit of angst (???)
So we all know the incident causing Harry to realize maybe he’d grown feelings for his flatmate was him taking care of sick Y/N. But what about Y/N? When and how did she realize she’d developed feelings for him? This part goes way back before Y/N and Harry began to develop feelings for each other.
Harry hates birthday parties.
He didn’t have like a terrible childhood or anything, he just thinks birthday parties are too flashy. A bunch of people gathering around you to sing a stupid song while you’re standing there awkwardly smiling like an idiot, then you have to blow out the candles on a cake, after making a wish that would never come true, if that’s not flashy, he doesn’t know what is.
Harry’s last birthday party was probably in third grade or so, and he can’t even remember what exactly happened, except for his parents inviting a bunch of kids from his grade, most of whom only showed up for free food. So yeah, birthday parties are the worsts, and that’s why Harry never lets anybody know when his birthday is.
One time when Y/N came into Harry’s room to collect his dirty clothes (it’s her turn to do the laundry) and she accidentally found his ID card in his pants’ pocket, that was how she found out his date of birth. He doesn’t know that she knows though. If he did, she wouldn’t be able to throw him a surprise birthday party which she’s planned since one month before.