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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?” She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

#to lovers fic challenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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hyuckssunchip · 3 years

Text

눈빛

~the expression of one’s eyes

Pairings: Mark x Reader, ft. Johnny

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, unrequited love

Synopsis:

It wasn’t as if Mark couldn’t see it, in fact he was almost sure that Johnny could see it too. The way that you looked at him. At Johnny.

“Horror or Rom-com tonight?” You turned to face Johnny, dressed in his familiar pajamas, plaid didn’t do him justice.

“I dunno, it’s your night to choose.” Your eyes followed his figure, and you admired the messy hairdo you had gotten so used to.

“Horror? Are you up for some nightmares tonight?” He laughed, and your heart skipped a beat at the sound.

You giggled at his response, but he recognized the nervous look on your face.

“Don’t worry I’ll keep you safe, just like old times.” He plopped on the cushion next to you, his body flushed against yours. This was nothing new, his warmth was a familiar feeling, but you could never get used to the butterflies that the contact sent through you.

“Remember that time you thought that Pennywise was hiding under your bed?” He snorted at the memory of you huddled on the couch in the middle of the night, begging for him to stay up with you.

“That was stupid, and I told you I didn’t like clowns.” You grumbled, wrapping the blanket around you tighter, trying to ignore the teasing looks.

“Sure, so I’m guessing you don’t like ghosts either?” He nudged you, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I’m fine with ghosts.” You mocked back, but the hint of fear was evident in your voice.

“Great! I know a great movie then!” He moved towards the remote, checking out your reaction from the side of his eye.

“Yeah…” You mumbled, sinking further into the couch.

You were interrupted by the soft slam of the front door.

“Johnny?” You turned at the sound of a new voice.

“Oh, hey Mark. We’re about to watch a movie, wanna join? It’s horror.” He sang the last part, taunting you.

“Oh.” The awkward tension didn’t leave, and you turned to face Johnny, indicating you wanted to be introduced.

“Oh. Y/N this is Mark, Mark Y/N.” Johnny went back to the TV searching for the movie and leaving you and Mark to awkwardly acknowledge each other.

“Hi.” You let out a soft whisper, waving a shy hand at the newcomer.

“Hi.” But all he could do was stare back, a tiny smile adorning his face. You returned his smile, and turned to Johnny, digging your elbow into his side.

“Ow! What?” He flinched, rubbing his ribs and giving you a teasing glare. You nodded your head in Mark’s direction.

“Mark, you gonna join?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” He stuttered out, glancing between the two of you as he fell into the seat adjacent from you.

The starting credits of the movie began, lighting up your faces. Throughout the movie you had dug yourself into Johnny’s side, his arm making its way around your shoulders, laughing at the way you used him as a shield.

“You could’ve said no to ghosts.” He whispered in your ear, with a teasing grin on his face.

“Shut up.” You smacked his chest.

From the other couch Mark watched your interaction, the way that you looked at him, the way that you held onto him.

“Oh, hi.” You were startled, looking up from the comfortable position on the couch.

“Hi.” You winced at the awkwardness, suddenly wishing you hadn’t showed up to Johnny’s place early.

Mark slowly sat down on the other couch, as if he was worried that you didn’t want him there. Which wasn’t exactly true, but also not far from the truth.

“Are you waiting for Johnny?” He asked, choosing to look at anything but you.

“Yeah, it’s movie night again, but he said he was running late.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at the plant on the coffee table.

“Oh.”

The silence was heavy. Normally you weren’t this awkward, but apparently your social ineptness and his just made things worse.

You giggled at the thought and as a way to relieve the tension.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, worried that he had done something.

“Nothing.” But you couldn’t help but giggle again. The laughter was contagious and soon you found each other’s company comfortable.

You wiped the small tear that was threatening to escape, “Oh my god, my cheeks hurt.” You shook your head, the last half an hour you and Mark had been laughing non-stop, bantering as if you had known each other as long as you and Johnny had.

He had the biggest grin on his face, a goofy look that you thought was sweet.

“What’s going on here?” Johnny entered, chucking his back by the entrance. He commanded attention, pulling you and Mark away.

“We were just talking about you actually.” You smirked, winking at Mark.

“Hey, that’s not nice. What’d you talk about?” At the sound of the both of your laughter Johnny had wielded one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. He felt content at the sight of the two people he loved most being happy.

“Oh, just some things… like that time where we went swimming and you-” His hand slapped over your mouth as he sent you a glare.

Mark doubled over in laughter, as you ripped his hand away from your face. “I already told him, it’s not new news.” You laughed at the look of horror on his face.

“You said you’d take that to the grave!” He threw an accusing finger at you.

“Oops. I lied.” You giggled at his face.

“Whatever. Horror night again I guess.” He smirked at the way your face fell.

“No, it’s my turn to pick.” You whined at him, to which he promptly shook his finger at you.

“Uh-uh, you lost that privilege the moment you opened your mouth.” He reached for the remote, quickly trying to find the movie.

You pouted, crossing your arm over your chest. “Whatever.” The smile grew on your face as you made eye contact with a very red-faced Mark, who looked as if he was going to combust from holding in his laughter. “It was worth it.”

Mark snorted, unable to keep it in. “I can’t believe you-” But the rest of his sentence couldn’t be heard, his own laughter ruining the story.

“Whooo.” He calmed himself, dabbing the undersides of his eyes dry.

“Okay. You done now?” Johnny teased sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the grin that stretched over his face.

“Yeah.” But the tips of Mark’s lips never went down.

“Where are you going?” Johnny shouted at your back as you tried to leave the apartment.

“Mark’s taking me bowling. We’re going to practice so we can whoop your ass next Friday.” You shouted back, shoving your feet into your worn shoes, victims of your lack of patience.

He smiled at the sound of the door slamming, pleased that you two were getting along great. He wanted so badly for your friendship to work out, and possibly move to something more. Mark wasn’t exactly shy in the way that he looked at you, or talked about you. And Johnny could think of no one better he would approve of.

But the problem wasn’t with Mark, it was you. You were oblivious to his feelings, and even more so to your own. No matter how much time you spent with Mark, you told yourself that your heart belonged to someone else. No matter how wrong that was, you had convinced yourself that what you felt was love, and it wasn’t possible to feel that way for anyone else.

“You know I think you should get out there, I mean I know a really great guy that would be perfect for you.” You frowned at his words, not liking the sound of it.

You hated the way he was pushing you into a random relationship, especially when you just wanted nothing more than for him to reciprocate your feelings. But he was doing the opposite.

“I don’t want to get with a random guy.” You tried to push the idea away and move away from the topic.

“But you can’t just keep hanging out with me,” He frowned at your scowl, “I just want to do you a favor, I think you’ll really like him.”

“I don’t want to, Johnny. I’ll get into a relationship when I want to.” You pushed back, grabbing your phone as a distraction.

“When is that gonna be? You can’t just wait forever.” He tried to get your attention.

“Who says I’m waiting? I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.” You snapped at him, his words now hitting a little too close to home.

“I’m not saying you’re not happy, just that you should find someone that can love you the way you deserve.”

You tensed at his words, not quite yet understanding where that was coming from.

“I know, and I’ll find that when it comes along.”

“I can’t do that for you.” He let out, biting his bottom lip.

Your heart stopped and suddenly you felt your chest tighten.

“So you knew.” You felt hot tears of embarrassment threaten to fall.

“Y/N…” There was a pleading tone as he realized your hurt, but that didn’t stop him from his next words, “It was hard not to.”

You swore you heard your heart break. “How long?” You croaked out.

“A long time Y/N.” He faltered out, watching your expression fall.

The feeling of betrayal hit you hard, and unable to reach his eyes anymore you turned on your heel, just narrowly missing his outreaching grasp.

“Y/N…” He paused, noticing the way you hesitated. It was hard not to, after all your feelings were still so strong and so real.

But he never finished, and you took that as a sign that the conversation, or whatever this situation was, was over.

It was only natural for you to find comfort in the person that seemed to know you best after Johnny. Mark.

“I was talking to Haechan yester- hey, what’s wrong?” Mark immediately found your eyes, a pool of empathy that you longed for.

You sniffled and your bottom lip trembled as you tried to speak. “He...Johnny.” That was all you got out before your voice was swallowed by a sob.

He reached out for you tentatively, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. You automatically melt into his embrace.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, softer than before, but just as genuine.

“Johnny found out I like him…” You faltered, not wanting to come to terms with his rejection.

You were terrified at the sight of his face, he wasn’t at all shocked at your confession.

“Was I that obvious?” You asked, moving to wipe the streaks off your face.

He sighed, trying not to meet your desperate eyes. “I mean…”

Your shoulders dropped, face heating in embarrassment. “Does everyone know? Am I just that transparent?”

“So what if you wear your heart on your sleeve? What’s wrong with that?” He leaned down to make eye contact, trying to console you.

“He doesn’t…”

You didn’t finish, but he didn’t need you to. Once again, his arms wrapped around you and he swayed you in embrace for a moment of silence.

Although he hesitated to ask, he desperately wants to know the answer to the question on his mind. His timing wasn’t great, but he’s human too.

“Do you… still like him?” He asked the top of your head, not daring to move as he felt you stiffen.

“Yeah…”

Neither of you spoke.

“I don’t want to though.”

“Sometimes you can’t help it.” He mumbled, some of his own truth behind his words. “The heart wants what it wants right?”

“Yeah.”

“Y/N.”

You froze, it was too early for you. You knew the moment you laid eyes on him you would break again.

“Are you mad?” He asked gently to your back, although you couldn’t see him, the Johnny you knew was genuine.

You sighed, it was soon, but you wanted to be able to hold yourself together for this conversation.

“No.” It came out as a squeak and you flinched at the sound of your vulnerable voice.

“I don’t want… I don’t want our friendship to be like this. I don’t want things to change.” Your heart sank at his words, although he had good intentions you knew the meaning behind them. That anything more than a friendship was never going to happen.

“I can’t do this right now.” You whispered out, sliding past the door. You felt your throat tighten involuntarily and a sob escaped you as you ran down the hallway, bumping into Mark on the way.

“Y/N?”

You continued past him, not wanting to take the chance that Johnny had followed you.

But the steps caught up with you, and you found a pair of arms enveloped you from behind and your shoulders sank in defeat.

“Y/N?” You relaxed at the familiar voice. You turned around in his arms, choosing to wrap your arms around his waist. You fit snug against his chest, the warmth and his heartbeat calming you.

“Shhh…. It’s okay.” He patted the back of your head, raking his hands slightly through your hair.

You simply hummed, not able to formulate a sentence yet. Together you rocked silence, slowly but surely calming you.

“I’m just not ready.” You answered eventually, muffled into his chest.

“It’s okay.” He murmured back.

“I want to be ready to face him, but it still hurts.”

“Y/N, just take your time, you don’t have to be ready yet.” He comforted you, ignoring the own pain that he felt.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his chest, sniffling as you pulled away. You laughed nervously wiping your nose, “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

He giggled back, trying to make you feel better, “My shirt isn’t worth your apology. I’ll be your human tissue any time.”

You smiled shyly at his words, and you felt a small flutter in your stomach.

Another week had passed before your dreaded conversation with Johnny arrived. You finally felt ready to face the truth, but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared for the change that came with it. You weren’t stupid, awknowledging this meant that things weren’t going to be the same between you two. As scary as that was, nothing was going to get fixed if you avoided it.

“I- I don’t know where to start.” You had never seen Johnny so shy or confused. You were used to him being the powerhouse, the moodmaker. And it hurt you to see him look so defeated.

“Then let me. I have some things to get off my chest, and I honestly don’t know if I can do it if I don’t say it now.” You sighed, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

He nodded, letting you take your time.

“It just hurt, you know. Like not only was it one-sided, but I just kinda felt betrayed that you played along with it. If you knew the way I looked at you and you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t have to play into it so much.” You paused, still looking at the ground. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want things to change. I love our friendship, and I never wanted something to come between us. I thought for sure things would get weird if I said something. I mean, look at us now.” He let out a nervous laugh, something that you couldn’t reciprocate.

“But don’t you think it would’ve been better to let me know, so I didn’t feel like you played with me and my feelings?” You felt bitter when reminiscing the moments he made your heart flutter.

“I never once meant to play with your feelings, I swear. I know it looks really bad, and it didn’t help stop your feelings when I acted like that. But I truly didn’t do it to mess with you, or purposely hurt you.” He reached for your hands, grasping you softly. “I didn’t want things to be like this, I just figured that you would find someone else and forget about me. I mean that’s what I hoped.”

You faltered at his words, heartbroken that he wished that your feelings would just fade.

“I know it was stupid, and it was harsh, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hurt you and I thought this was the best way.”

You pulled your hands from his, fiddling with your fingers. But slowly you nodded, starting to understand him. Of course Johnny wouldn’t do that to you on purpose, you could trust him.

You watched as his expression visibly fell, and you wanted so badly to comfort him. “I know that you meant well, I just wish it didn’t come out like this, I wish you would’ve just told me. But I get that you didn’t want to hurt our friendship and I know this is probably better. I don’t think that there would’ve ever been the right time to tell me. It just hurts, you know. It would’ve hurt at any time though.”

You sighed at your admission, realizing that this was inevitable. With your feelings and your relationship with Johnny, this was inevitable, it was only a matter of when and how.

“I don’t want to say sorry for being hurt, or say sorry for having feelings for you, my feelings were valid. But I do want to say I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. I should have come to terms with it a long time ago but... I didn’t want to.”

He smiled sadly back at you. “Can things go back anytime soon? I don’t want things to be weird between us. I would hate our friendship to end.”

“Me too. I do think that it’ll take some time for things to go back to normal, if it will. But I want everything to work out the way it did before, and I’ll try.” You gave him a small smile, a means of offering your attempt in saving your relationship.

“Don’t be stupid. I told you it’ll never work, you’re just wasting your time.” You snorted at the loud thud that followed your words.

“I’m telling you, balancing upside down won’t get rid of your hiccups, what kind of logic is that?” Mark moaned in pain from his position on the floor, now sprawled out.

“Then what do I do?” He rubbed his head, face still red from the blood rushing to his face.

“Uh I don’t know, learn to live with it?” You snickered at the look he gave you.

“Uh… why is Mark on the floor?” Johnny walked in, staring between the two of you with a weird look on his face.

“He’s trying to get rid of hiccups.” You replied, leaning over the back of the couch to get a good glimpse at Mark.

“That doesn’t work.” Johnny said confidently, “I’ve tried.” He plopped on your right, staring down at the hiccuping boy, who glared back.

He wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you into a soft headlock.

Things were still different than before, but you were starting to go back to normal. His touch no longer sent flutters through your stomach and you smiled at the interaction.

“What you need to do is hold your breath.” He motioned to the way he was holding you, “I can help you out with that.”

Mark glared at the older boy, “No thanks, I rather enjoy breathing.”

He rolled over and slowly sat himself up, leaning back on his hands. He cleared his throat, sparing a glance up at the two of you. “And hands off my girlfriend.”

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bbywonu · 3 years

Text

mixed messages. juyeon.

masterlist

a/n: juyeon is sweet boy. give him kith for me.

requested: no <3

summary: reader takes silence for rejection.

word count: 1.4k

I unclasped my hands from one another as I wiped off the perspiration from them and onto the sides of my jeans. I quickly held my hand to my chest as to make sure my pounding heart wouldn’t leap out. In all my worry, I had arrived to the cafe early. I took a quick sip of my drink in order to try and calm my nerves.

I could have sworn that my heart skipped a beat when I heard the bell ring from the entrance of the shop. I couldn’t bare to meet my eyes with his, too mixed up in my own thoughts to even comprehend what I was about to do. I was tired of sitting around and not knowing what would come next, so I decided to do something about it. Hence, me sitting here looking like the human form of a mental breakdown.

The clearing of a throat grabbed my attention as I looked up, my eyes finally connecting with his. I hadn’t realized that I was staring at him until I saw that he mumbled something towards me. He held a curious gaze in my direction as he shifted to get comfortable in his seat.

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“I asked if you were alright? You look awfully shaken up.” His eyes held concern as he asked his question.

“I’m fine, I just had a rough day.” I mentally gave myself a facepalm as I knew I had spilled my words out too fast. He knew me too well to know that I was in fact not fine. I tried to reassure him by offering him a warm smile. “I promise.”

“I ordered you some coffee since I arrived early. I hope you don’t mind.” I quickly tried to change the subject as I gestured to the mug that sat on the side of the table. He gladly thanked me as we delved into a multitude of talking points. I soon found myself becoming free from my worries and stress. I even relaxed to the point where I began laughing along with him as he engaged with me in conversation.

His eyes lit up as he told me about his day, which made me chuckle because it reminded me of an excited child. The only time that he would pause his story would be to take another sip of his drink. As time went on, I soon found myself growing anxious without knowing it. I had a feeling that Juyeon could sense it as well because every once in a while he would shoot me empathetic looks as if he could that something was wrong.

Was this really the right idea?

“Before we both forget, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” He slid a hand through his hair as he shot me yet another concerned look.

This was it - the moment I had been dreading since I had planned this whole meetup. I promised myself that I wouldn’t back down this time. My hands shuffled nervously in my lap as I shifted my weight on my chair preparing to confess to him. I let out an awkward chuckle as I cleared my throat. Everything in my mind was telling me to not go through with it but then again, I’m sure he would find out eventually. I’m almost positive that it’s completely obvious just by the way I act whenever I am around him.

“I actually wanted to meet you here to tell you-” My voice got caught in my throat. I looked up at him just for a split second in order to gage his response. He looked at me with a small smile as he waited in anticipation for what I was going to say next. “I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want to risk our friendship because you know how much you mean to me. I hope that I haven’t made this awkward.”

His eyebrows raised slightly as he looked at me with parted lips. I stayed silent as I waited for his response, twitching in my seat as the silence became more and more heavy. I began to panic as I tried to think of a way out of this. My cheeks felt hot to the touch as I swiftly gathered up my things.

“I’m sorry, please just forget about all of this. I’m so so sorry.” I stuttered over my words as I began to quickly walk towards to exit, tears threatening to spill out over my cheeks. I heard my name being called from afar, but I was already set on heading home.

It had been two hours since the so called incident. Since then, I had promptly cried my eyes out as a random rom-com played in the background. I felt embarrassed beyond belief. I couldn’t believe that I had just confessed to one of my best friends of three years and he couldn’t even say anything. Could it be that he was repulsed by even the thought of having feelings for me? I had a million and one thoughts floating around in my head before a knock on my door shook me out of my trance.

I groaned slightly as I grabbed another tissue, attempting to clear away stray tears and convince whoever it was that was behind the door that I had most certainly not been crying. Though, I’m sure my puffy cheeks were going to give it away almost immediately. I lazily walked over to the door as I cracked it open slightly, only to reveal none other than Juyeon himself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I attempted to not let my voice crack.

“I think we should talk.” He was leaned in close to the door as he had one hand resting on the side of the frame, positioning himself so that he could try and see me better. I looked down as I mentally sighed feeling the tears pool in my eyes once again.

“There’s nothing to talk about Juyeon. I like you and you don’t feel the same way. Now if you don’t mind, I’m really tired and I would like to get some sleep.” I tried to close the door but he beat me to the punch as he already had one foot in the door.

“I never said that I don’t feel the same way.”

“Actually, you didn’t say anything at all.” My voice cracked as I looked up at him. He was now standing fully in the doorway inching closer as he realized how hurt I actually was by the situation. “Which is actually much worse.” “I know.” He paused as he looked down at me. If you looked hard enough then you could see the thoughts swirling around in his mind, almost as if he was trying to piece together what to say next. “I’m sorry, I should have said something. But don’t for one second think that my silence was taken for not having feelings towards you.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding faster in my chest, only this time it was for a different reason. He took my face in his hand as he looked down upon me with pure adoration.

“Somewhere in the midst of us being friends, I fell for you. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but I’m glad it did because then we wouldn’t be in the situation that we’re in right now. I absolutely have feelings for you, Y/n.” He laughed as he made eye contact with me. He leaned in slowly as he kissed me softly on the lips. If you listened hard enough, then I’m sure there were fireworks going off somewhere. We stayed like that for a moment more before pulling away, small smiles on each of our faces.

“Well, I guess come on in unless you’re just going to stand in my doorway all day.” I sat on the couch as I shot him a playful grin, patting the seat beside me as he gave me a large smile. I could feel him staring at me as he joined me on the couch. I turned towards him with an expectant look.

“You look cute with puffy cheeks.” He said as he leaned over to pinch them.

I scoffed in response as I rested my head on his shoulder. I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I smiled to myself as I was glad that I hadn’t lost my best friend, and had gained something even better.

#lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz imagines #the boyz #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #the boyz scenarios #juyeon the boyz #kpop fanfic #tbz imagines #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #kpop fluff

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when-they-write-stuff · 3 years

Text

SOMETIMES, STILES THOUGHT he understood Derek Hale.

Other times, he thought he never would.

The man was a million things tucked into a leather jacket. Stiles remembered the first time he’d seen Derek in the preserve; scowling, grey-green eyes hard, with an air around him that made younger Stiles a little bit terrified and a little bit intrigued at the same time. And honestly, if he would’ve known then that one meeting would turn into a whirlwind of chaos afterward, the younger version of him might have turned right back around and walked away without thinking twice.

Or maybe he would’ve just grinned. Grinned, knowing that one little meeting with the grumpiest werewolf in Beacon Hills would one day turn into a little bit more.

If he just had the patience to wait, that is.

But that was then and this was now. Sitting in the loft with the rest of the pack, some rom-com that Lydia had picked out playing on the TV, though most of them were only half paying attention. Scott was all wrapped around Allison, Erica had fallen asleep in Boyd’s lap, and Lydia was scrolling through her phone while Jackson snored at her side. Stiles sat on the floor by himself and watched the TV silently, his brain not even caring what was happening onscreen at the moment.

From somewhere in the kitchen behind all of them, he could hear the faint sound of running water and clinking dishes.

The movie changed scenes— the main couple was kissing. Stiles sighed and pushed himself up.

Isaac made a sound of protest as Stiles accidentally blocked his view, craning his neck to see around. And honestly, the beta seemed to be the only one of them that actually cared about what was happening. Had it been any other time, Stiles might have made fun of him.

But instead, he just rolled his eyes and moved around the couch.

There was a stack of empty pizza boxes on the counter as he entered the kitchen and a line of clean plates next to the sink. Stiles paused in the doorway for a second and stared at Derek literal Hale standing in front of the sink with a towel thrown over his shoulder and an apron wrapped around his hips; a rare sighting of the man without his jacket on.

Then, like a wild animal caught on camera, Derek turned the water off and turned around, giving Stiles an unimpressed look.

“What.”

Stiles hoped his face didn’t look as red as it felt as he snapped out of his thoughts. Forcing himself to just shrug, he moved further into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open, staring unseeingly at the leftovers that he really didn’t care about.

After a long moment of silence, Stiles heard Derek turn the water back on and waited for a few more seconds before stepping back and shutting the fridge again.

“So…” he said, desperately trying not to pay attention to how utterly domestic Derek Hale looked. The man glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“So.”

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

Derek shut off the water again and Stiles noticed for the first time that there weren’t any more dishes left— Derek finished toweling off the last one and gave Stiles a flat look. “No.”

Internally, Stiles cursed himself. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Derek pressed his lips together, still looking unimpressed. And before he could continue making a fool of himself or Derek could make him feel any more judged, Stiles nodded again and quickly exited the kitchen. Isaac glanced up from the couch as he moved back over, a definite smirk on his lips.

“Nice one, Stilinski. You call that flirting?”

Stiles’s heart skipped at least three beats and he threw a look over his shoulder back toward the kitchen— but all he could hear was the sound of cabinets opening and closing. Derek didn’t seem to have heard the beta.

Clenching his jaw, Stiles gave Isaac the darkest death glare he could muster. “Shut up, Lahey, or I swear to god, will strangle you with your own scarf.”

Isaac smirked wider. “I don’t think Derek would like that very much.”

“I really don’t care what Derek would think.”

“Yeah, we all know that’s not true.”

Stiles glanced over at the others but nobody was even paying their conversation any attention. Well, nobody awake, anyway. Stiles glared back at Isaac, who looked even smugger.

“What, Stilinski? Do you want me to talk a little bit louder?”

“Okay,” Stiles said, shoving himself back up. “You’re an asshole and that’s my cue to leave.”

And just like that, Derek materialized in the doorway of the kitchen. “You’re leaving?”

Stiles blinked at the man, pretty sure his heart had skipped another few beats. Because Derek hadn’t been listening in to any of their conversation, had he? “Uhm, yeah. I’ve got… stuff to do. Important stuff. To do.”

Isaac snorted loudly and then covered it up with the fakest sounding cough Stiles had ever heard. Grinding his teeth together, Stiles reminded himself to throw all of the beta’s scarves into the toilet the next time he came around.

Derek looked at him for a moment longer before nodding. The man turned around, disappeared back into the kitchen, and Stiles gave Isaac one last furious look.

The beta just smirked and Stiles hated him even more.

Except, as he turned back around to make for the door, Derek came out of the kitchen again. This time, the man approached him with something in his hands.

“Uh,” Stiles froze, blinking at the container that Derek pushed into his hands. He looked down at it, glanced back up at Derek, and then carefully pulled the top off, realizing with a start that it was the rest of the leftover pizza. Blinking again, he gave Derek a confused look. “This is pizza.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Stiles didn’t know how to react. “You know my dad will eat this the moment I bring it home, right?”

For a moment, Stiles could’ve sworn he caught a touch of red in Derek’s cheeks; the man almost looked flustered. But then Derek just shrugged, turning back away, and Stiles was left gawking at the werewolf’s back.

Isaac made a strange noise from the couch. It sounded a little bit like a strangled groan.

Shaking his head, Stiles shoved the lid back onto the container and threw one more confused glance toward the kitchen before heading for the door. And, leftovers in hand, he honestly didn’t know what to think.

It was times like this he didn’t think he’d ever understand Derek Hale.

The night Stiles was stuck out in the preserve with Derek, it was raining.

He figured that sounded about right. They’d all drawn straws to decide who would be on watch for the omega that was running loose around Beacon Hills, and Stiles had immediately drawn the shortest one. And then, just because it was his luck, Deaton called Scott, his watch-buddy, in for an emergency shift.

So Stiles was going to have to go out on his own. But then Derek stepped in.

Which really wasn’t so bad, right? Stiles had been alone with Derek Hale before. Like… literally the first day after they’d met. When Stiles had been driving the near-dead werewolf around for a full day while Scott attempted to infiltrate the Argent’s house.

So yeah, he could handle one night. Easily.

But then they got out in the preserve and it started raining. Stiles thought that would make things a little less enjoyable.

“So,” he said, trying not to shiver as his hoodie stuck to his skin like wet paper. “This is nice.”

Derek shot him a sideways glance, not even looking the least bit bothered by the cold as raindrops rolled right off his leather jacket. And Stiles thought the entire world was unfair sometimes. Running a hand through his hair, he attempted to pull up his hood, but it was already soaked through, doing nothing but making his hair even wetter.

He groaned. “Yeah, this isn’t nice at all.”

To that, Derek paused and looked him up and down. Then the man sighed— like Stiles was the ridiculous one— and stripped off his jacket, shoving it into Stiles’s chest.

Stiles froze, not even daring to touch it for a second.

“Er, Derek?”

“Put it on,” Derek said, letting go. Stiles barely managed to catch the jacket before it dropped into the mud and he blinked as Derek started forward again, head slightly bowed against the rain. The man’s long-sleeved t-shirt instantly started to stick against his skin.

Stiles stared after the man, looked down at the jacket held tightly in his hands, and then looked back up. Except, Derek wasn’t slowing down and he cursed silently, pulling the thing over his shoulders before hurrying after the man.

The jacket was like a portable heater. Stiles probably could have melted into it if his mind wasn’t spinning so fast, shoving his hands into the warm pockets as he stumbled after Derek.

“Dude, Derek, dude.”

Derek finally paused and turned around, giving him a pained look. Stiles fumbled to a stop and despite everything, wrapped the jacket further around himself. Even as he asked the question,

“Are you sure?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking from the jacket to Stiles’s face. Stiles flushed.

“I mean, if you’re not—”

“There’s nothing out here tonight,” Derek interrupted, turning his gaze to the dark trees around them. “Let’s head back.”

Stiles snapped his mouth closed, staring at the man. But once more, Derek didn’t wait for an answer before starting off in a random direction. Shaking his head, Stiles hurried after him, feet slipping and sliding in the mud.

So, Derek Hale was officially the biggest grumpy-growly weirdo Stiles had met, he decided. One who owned an incredibly warm leather jacket.

He understood that much about the man at least.

Sometimes, Stiles hated werewolves.

Mostly, he decided one day, laying in bed feeling like he was dying, he hated them for their stupid immune systems. Because honestly, how was it even fair that the assholes couldn’t get sick?

Stiles didn’t see how that followed nature’s rules in any way.

He, on the other hand, was very capable of getting sick. And approximately two days after his dad came home with a slight cold, Stiles caught the thing so hard, it felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

Sometimes, he hated werewolves. And laying in bed, his head pounding and his nose feeling like it was about to start leaking out his brain, Stiles very nearly considered calling up Derek and taking the bite.

Then, as if his thoughts had somehow summoned the werewolf, Stiles’s window was shoved up and Derek pulled himself through.

Despite everything, Stiles didn’t even have the energy to be startled. A psychotic murderer could have come through the window and he wouldn’t even lift his head to complain. In fact, he’d take a psycho murderer if it meant his headache would stop.

He was pretty sure Derek had frozen the moment the man’s feet touched the carpet, because silence descended over the room for a moment. Then, he blinked up as Derek plodded over to his bed and glanced down at him, brows knitted tightly together.

“Stiles.”

Stiles gazed up at him blearily. Derek sniffed deeply and then drew back, looking repulsed. Which— rude.

“You smell bad.”

Stiles groaned loudly, which turned into a sharp cough, which turned into a minor lung hacking, before pulling his blankets up over his head. “Fuck you too, Derek.”

Once more, the room was silent. After a long moment, Stiles peeked back out again and saw Derek was still watching him with a mildly concerned look on his face. After another long minute of literal staring, Stiles sighed.

“I haven’t showered in like two days, dude. Stop looking at me like that.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles groaned again.

“I’m sick, asshole.”

The man’s face finally cleared. Stiles noticed for the first time that Derek had the bestiary in his hands— and there was no way in hell he was doing research right now. But then Derek set the book on his bedside table and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking a little awkward. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“What can I do?”

Stiles blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What do you need?”

And that was the last response he’d expected to hear from Derek Hale. Ever. “Uhm, nothing? It’s fine. I’m just going to lay here until I wither up and die, but everyone has to go at some point, right?”

To those words, Derek definitely looked concerned. The man’s eyes flashed red for a second and Stiles startled, drawing the blankets further up to his chin.

“That was a joke, Sourwolf.”

But the man just looked at him for another moment before turning back around and heading for the window. Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before Derek was pulling himself right back out— and Stiles stared at the empty sill for a moment before sighing heavily.

Stupid sickness immune werewolves. Derek probably thought this was a life or death situation or something.

And honestly, Stiles didn’t expect to see the man again. After all, he smelled bad.

God, he hated werewolves.

His dad had gone back to work that morning and though it had been Stiles’s idea, telling the man he wasn’t five anymore and didn’t need anyone to ‘take care of him’, Stiles still kind of wished he had someone to complain to. Or someone to make him soup. Or even someone to bring him more tissues when he grabbed the last one out of the box.

Because honestly, the very thought of leaving his bed and searching for more seemed like an impossible task. For one bleak moment, Stiles had actually debated using the t-shirt next to his bed.

Then he realized he was losing his mind.

After what felt like a million hours had passed since Derek had left, and Stiles was right on the verge of falling asleep, his window was shoved up again. Stiles snapped right back to reality so fast his headache came back like an avalanche. In that moment, he vowed he was going to murder whoever had just interrupted his sweet, sweet escape into the darkness.

When he could make himself get out of bed, that is.

But then Stiles realized it was Derek. Derek, with a round styrofoam container held in one hand and a grocery bag held from the other. Struggling to sit up, Stiles gave the werewolf an incredulous look, and Derek approached the bed carefully.

The man was still looking at him like he was about to spontaneously combust.

“I brought soup.”

Stiles just stared.

Derek set the round container on his bedside table and then pulled a spoon out of the plastic bag. Close behind it was a packet of crackers, a box of tissues, and a white bottle of painkillers.

“Boyd said chicken noodle works best,” Derek said, still avoiding Stiles’s blatant stare as he popped the top of the container off. “It should still be hot, so—”

“Derek,” Stiles said, cutting him off. Looking pained, the man finally met his gaze.

“... I also brought crackers.”

“Crackers.”

“For the soup.”

For the soup. Yeah, Stiles had to give it to him; that was a fair answer.

But what?

Before Stiles couldn’t even think of an appropriate reaction to everything that was currently unfolding, Derek was pushing the container of soup into his hands. Instantly, the smell of warmth managed to drift into Stiles’s clogged nose and he almost melted into the mattress, mouth watering.

He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was.

“You brought me soup,” Stiles mumbled, still a little lost in his own head. Derek’s face remained carefully blank and the man nodded once.

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually expect soup—”

Except, Derek didn’t even give him a chance to finish that sentence. Instead, as if dropping off an entire ‘get better now’ cold-care package was all he’d come back to do, the man moved back over to the window. Though still, Derek paused there for a moment, glancing back, and Stiles could’ve sworn his eyes flickered for a moment. The man pressed his lips together, looked like he was going to say something else, and then pulled himself back out.

Stiles gaped in shock at the once more empty window. Because Derek was gone. And this time, Stiles was sure the man was not coming back.

He didn’t even know what to think of the werewolf anymore.

Stiles thought it was a little ridiculous how Derek had never learned how to knock.

That’s what he assumed, anyway, when his window was shoved up on a random Friday midnight and Derek the Grumpy Werewolf pulled himself through like he owned the place. Had it been any other weeknight or had Stiles been attempting to sleep, he might have been a little pissed. But as of that night, he was completely procrastinating sleep, and honestly, what use was telling Derek Hale ‘no’ anyway?

The man never knew how to take that for an answer.

Sighing, Stiles paused whatever Youtube video had been playing and half-closed his laptop, giving Derek a raised-eyebrow look.

“Yes, oh alpha of mine?”

For some reason, the man automatically frowned. “You’re still awake.”

And wasn’t that was a creepy way to start the conversation? Stiles blinked and closed his laptop the rest of the way. “Uh, yeah, dude, I am. Now please tell me you weren’t hoping for the opposite because this isn’t Twilight and I own an insane amount of wolfsbane. Just so you know.”

To that, Derek rolled his eyes. “No, Stiles.”

“‘No, Stiles’ what?”

The man just gave him a flat look— but that had been a fair question, okay?

One Stiles clearly wasn’t getting an answer to.

“Okay, then,” he said, raising his hands. “Just be all weird and creepy then, why don’t you? Yes, Sourwolf, I am awake. And no, I don’t plan on going to sleep any time soon. So do you need something?”

Derek hesitated for a moment before pulling something out of his pocket and stepping forward. Stiles sat straighter as the man dropped a set of keys onto his blankets— and automatically balked.

“Are those my car keys?”

Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and looked a little constipated. “Your jeep is parked in the driveway.”

“My jeep is… I’m sorry, what?”

“Parked in the driveway.”

Stiles stared at the man. Then he shoved himself up and stumbled to the window. And sure enough, his jeep was there. A little bit shiny looking, the duct tape no longer wrapped around the driver’s door handle, and wearing what looked like a new set of tires.

Slowly, Stiles turned back around. “Derek, my jeep was at mechanics.”

“Yes.”

Stiles stared. “Because it wouldn’t start.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s been there for three weeks because I couldn’t afford to get it fixed.”

Derek gave Stiles a look that made him feel like the idiot. As if all of this was somehow supposed to make sense. Because…

“Derek, did you pay to have my car fixed?”

The man didn’t answer for a long moment. Stiles took a deep breath, forcing himself not to turn right back around and stare at his jeep for a minute longer. Just to make sure all of this was real.

“Dude, I’m gonna need an answer. That really wasn’t a hard question.”

“... Yes.”

For a moment, all Stiles heard was white noise. Then he stalked forward and shoved a finger into Derek’s chest, but the man didn’t even move. “What do you mean, you fixed my car? Derek! Oh my god, how much did it cost? I’m going to need to get a job to pay you back. No, two jobs. And dip into my college funds. Oh my god!”

Derek finally reacted— by rolling his eyes. “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

“You don’t what ?”

If Stiles was overreacting a little bit, it wasn’t his fault. No, it definitely wasn’t. It was Derek Hale’s fault because apparently, the man thought it was normal to go around paying for people’s car repairments and—

Stiles blinked, staring blankly at the wall beyond Derek’s shoulder. “I’m gonna faint.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up and he stepped forward; to which Stiles reacted by raising his hands and stumbling back. Ramming into the nearest wall, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Nope, nope, nope. Do not get any closer, dude. Don’t take one more step. In fact, I think I’m gonna need a minute.”

“I can go,” Derek said, sounding uncertain. Stiles opened one eye and stared at him.

“That… might be a good idea.”

And it probably wasn’t. No, it definitely wasn’t. But Stiles didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know how to react, and if Derek stuck around any longer, he might feel the need to throw himself out the window instead of sending the man away through it. And his dad would probably not appreciate that.

Oh god, how was he going to explain this to his dad?

Derek looked at him for a moment longer, concern still written across his face. But then he just nodded and moved back toward the window. Stiles didn’t even watch the man leave, his attention fully fixed on the set of keys on his bed. His stomach flipped.

Derek Hale had just paid to fix his car.

Stiles had never not understood the werewolf more.

It took a while for Stiles to regain the courage to go back to the loft.

The way things had ended the last time he’d been face to face with Derek Hale, he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to expect. But stepping through the front door, it was clear almost instantly that nothing had changed.

Somehow, literally nothing had changed.

The betas were all gathered around the couch watching something on TV. Stiles caught what smelled like pancakes and heard the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. He stood still for a moment, head-spinning, and then moved toward the noise.

Derek was moving around the room with a towel thrown over his shoulder and a line of clean dishes next to an empty sink. The man’s grey-green eyes took their time drifting to where Stiles stood, gaping, and he just raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you were coming by.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

There was a stack of pancakes next to the stove.

“Are you hungry?”

And with those words, Stiles finally snapped back to reality. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he gripped his keys tightly and stepped forward, holding Derek’s gaze. Because dammit, all of this was throwing him through a loop and he didn’t know how to react anymore. It was driving him crazy.

“Derek, we need to talk.”

The man’s other brow raised and he crossed his arms; Stiles swallowed hard.

“Somewhere else.”

Because the last thing he wanted was any of the betas listening in to their conversation. Derek studied him for a moment longer before nodding and pulling the towel off his shoulder, dropping it onto the counter. Running his hands nervously through his hair, Stiles followed the man out of the kitchen, toward the loft door.

Isaac was the only one who looked away from the TV. The little bastard was smirking wide and obvious.

Stiles ground his teeth together and followed Derek out of the loft.

He’d kind of expected things to be awkward right from the start when he’d stepped foot in the loft. But Derek was acting like the entire event from a week ago hadn’t even happened. Meanwhile, Stiles could barely even look at his jeep without remembering every last word said.

Out in the hallway, Derek gave Stiles a blank look, his expression not betraying a thing. And, god, Stiles hated that about the werewolf sometimes.

“So,” he said, words sticking to his throat. “Yeah.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. Stiles cursed himself internally, biting down hard on his lower lip.

“Derek, what the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Stiles gaped at the man before shaking his head. Because he wasn’t imagining these things, dammit. “Uh, what do I mean? Derek!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “My car. The jacket. The constant weird leftovers and that one random time I was sick, you literally brought me soup? Even Scott didn’t bring me soup! And I had been complaining through text to him the entire day.”

Derek’s right eye twitched. The man didn’t say a word. Stiles’s head spun.

“I’m not going crazy,” he said. And he kind of needed to hear that out loud, even if he was the one to say it. “I just… I don’t understand you.”

Derek's face did something strange— maybe he looked a little red. But he didn’t say a word and Stiles hated him a little bit.

“I’m not going crazy, Derek.”

“No,” the man said, something in his expression finally softening. Stiles stared and Derek shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at the wall over Stiles’s shoulder. “You’re not.”

Stiles swallowed hard, desperately hoping the man wasn’t going to leave him at that. Because he didn’t think he could manage more half explanations. The silence stretched as Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then the man dropped his gaze.

“I… don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.”

“I’m gonna need more than that, dude.”

Derek scowled at nothing. The man literally looked constipated now and Stiles might have been a little bit worried if he wasn’t so confused. So damn confused.

“Derek, do what?”

“All of… this! All of this, dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles startled. But before he even had a chance to react, Derek was moving forward. And then there were hands on the sides of his head, desperate lips pressing against his own, and Stiles jolted, nearly yanking back, and then all but melted into the touch.

For a moment Stiles.exe stopped working. His brain officially logged off and his instincts took over, leading Stiles to press right back, kissing Derek as hard as he could.

And if this was another thing he didn’t understand about Derek Hale, Stiles never wanted to figure the man out.

He kissed Derek hard and hungry. Because how long had he wanted to do this? There was a not-so-little part of him that had imagined kissing Derek Hale. Ever since Stiles had first laid eyes on the man. And okay, maybe he didn’t understand it, maybe he didn’t understand him, but at the same time, maybe Stiles had never wanted anything more. Wanted to know something, know someone, more.

At the rate his thoughts were going, that’s what he clung to anyway.

Derek broke contact first. The man drew back almost as fast as he had moved forward and Stiles was left standing there for a moment, swaying just a little, torn between catching Derek’s lips once more or passing out right where he stood.

But when he met Derek’s gaze, the man looked terrified. The coolness of the werewolf’s expression had finally vanished and Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Derek’s expression hold so much before.

“Oh,” he said. And yeah, that was the first thing that left his mouth. If possible, Derek’s face paled even more.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinked. Just like that, he didn’t understand a thing about Derek Hale all over again. “You’re… what?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, clenching his jaw. “I shouldn’t— I didn’t—”

“Derek.”

The man cut off and looked at him with what could only be called a fragile expression. Stiles swallowed hard, all of it crashing down on him suddenly.

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles stared. Derek Hale… god, Derek Hale was an enigma wrapped up in a leather jacket. Every time Stiles thought he was getting close to understanding even the smallest thing about the man, something had to change. Soup on a shitty day or a set of keys dropped onto his mattress. And sometimes Stiles thought he understood Derek Hale. But other times, he thought he never would.

The feel of the kiss still lingered on his lips. Maybe… just maybe he could understand that much. For a moment.

Stiles stepped forward carefully. “You confuse the hell out of me.”

Derek stayed stiff and silent. Reaching out, Stiles brushed the tips of his fingers against the man’s own.

“You’re like a thousand lines of red string, Derek Hale.”

Something flickered in Derek’s eyes. Stiles couldn’t tell if it was confusion or a hint of nervousness. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Licking his lips, Stiles tilted his chin up and searched the man’s face. “I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand you.”

This time, Derek looked a little pained. Stiles offered a small smile.

“But I’d like to.”

Grey-green eyes flickered with the faintest hue of red. Stiles closed that last foot of space between them and took Derek’s hands fully, hoping the werewolf couldn’t hear how fast his heart was racing. Because he felt a little lightheaded and a little nauseous— like if this didn’t work out, he might throw up.

Which totally was not sexy at all.

“Derek?”

The man stared at him. The barest hint of color had finally returned to his cheeks. “Stiles.”

“You should totally kiss me again.”

Derek blinked. His expression did something strange. And then it was like the tension had been wiped from his face. In the breath of a moment, warm lips were pressing against Stiles’s again and this time, there was nothing desperate about it. Nothing hard, nothing sudden, nothing rash. The man kissed him warm, careful, and it was kind of like a leather jacket being draped over his shoulders in the cold of the rain.

Stiles smiled against Derek’s lips. Because honestly, there was something about it that just seemed right. And he thought he knew what it all could become.

He'd like to, at least.

For the moment, though, Stiles kissed the man with just as much hope and decided he understood that much.

#sterek #teen wolf #sterek prompt #sterek fanfiction #ficlet #derek hale #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #eternalsterek #prompts

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: A nondescript amount of time has passed since [Y/N] has met the Maximoff couple and the trio has since then gotten better settled in Westview, although none of them have yet to make the best impressions with their neighbors. [Y/N], Vision, and Wanda have found friends and confidants in each other when they haven’t much elsewhere but [Y/N]’s crush remains, begging the question, ‘Is there anything more to come?’ Meanwhile, the people of the cul-de-sac are planning a talent show and the atmosphere in Westview appears to be shifting. Follow along as the happy little world of Westview begins fraying at the seams while strange happenings occur and an unseen power desperately seeks to stitch it back together…

Word count: 13,766

Warnings: This one’s even longer. Fluff, sappy rom-com vibes, more possible second-hand embarrassment. It’s just as weird as the episode.

Tag List: @madamevirgo

~~~

“[Y/N], hon. I really think you should cool it on the coffee for the rest of the day.”

It’s possible that Agnes was right. The tiredness that was caused by a windy, sleepless night has recently been replaced by chaotic, synthetic energy that had your eyes wide and hands shaking slightly. You were on your fourth cup now, which you’d brought with you from the diner you and Agnes had had breakfast at. The two of you were going to pick up Wanda and go over to Dottie’s for actual breakfast—well, brunch—but you both had rocky relationships with the queen of the neighborhood and needed to mentally prepare. You had been up for a better part of the last night due to bushes and tree branches rattling against your windows, not to mention all your previous encounters with Dottie have been disastrous; you needed the caffeinated courage. Agnes just wanted to have something on her stomach beforehand so the alcohol hidden away in her handbag would sit better.

You hummed around your mouthful of coffee in response to Agnes’s mild worrying. You swallowed, then threw back the last of the no longer hot beverage and scurried over to a random trash can to toss the cup away. “There, see? All done. All nifty.” Just as an extra bit of proof, you gave her some jazz hands and shimmied as you walked back over to link your arm with hers.

Agnes tried to hold down a smirk but broke into a laugh when the shimmying started. “You look as jittery as a squirrel.”

“Not as fluffy as a bunny?” you asked with a wide-eyed pout, then reached over to poke a finger in the cage that your companion held; the rabbit inside, Agnes’s pet, immediately offered his head to be scratched. “Señor Scratchy, more like Mr. Cutie Patootie.”

“Fluffy too, of course,” Agnes offered, giving your curled updo a ruffle. “In a good mood too, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. With Dottie around, we’ll need it.”

You almost cracked a grin but then thought about how you’d feel hearing someone say that about you and felt somewhat sad. Luckily, you found a quick reason to grin anyway as Wanda’s house came into view up ahead—

Only for the grin to turn into a look of confusion as a buzzing suddenly started in your ear.

You stopped cold, cocking your head as you strained to listen. The buzzing sounded almost like a lawnmower but coming from the sky—a helicopter, perhaps, but there was something off about it like it was happening inside your head—and the sound grew louder until it stopped with a sudden bang, making you jump.

“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice called. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

Drawn back to your surroundings, you felt a cold sweat on your back and noticed your hands had become clammy; the hair on your neck and arms stood straight up and your body felt suddenly achy, almost have you had come down with a cold out of the blue. You looked at Agnes with wide eyes and saw her staring at you, concerned with both arms gripping your sleeve.

It took you several moments to recover and when you did, you asked, “Did you hear that?”

Agnes looked at you incredulously, shaking her head just slightly. “Hear what?”

She hadn’t heard it? You felt like the strange sounds had happened right next to you.

The woman at your side continued, “I didn’t hear anything at all, except for Wanda coming outside. Then you just stopped walking and stood there, I couldn’t even budge you.”

Agnes nodded in the direction in Wanda’s direction and you looked that way. Wanda was indeed outside now, though she hadn’t seemed to notice you two coming up the sidewalk yet. Instead, she was looking down in the bushes near her fence, seemingly distressed. You followed her gaze and saw something glittering in the sunlight there.

“Well,” Agnes said loudly, officially snapping you out of your daze, “you seem fine now, at least. I told you all that caffeine was going to make you go looney!” She picked up the rabbit cage she apparently put down while you were… doing whatever it had been that you were doing, then kept walking as if nothing had happened.

You watched her for a moment before following. Then you noticed Wanda lean over and pick up whatever it was she was looking at but you couldn’t see what it was as Agnes obscured most of the view. You could, however, see Wanda’s distraught expression and it made you want to run and make sure she was okay; you noted that Agnes still had no reaction, though, and decided perhaps all that caffeine was the actual cause of all these weird feelings.

You felt the familiar pang of a headache as you and Agnes got closer.

“Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes chirped, leaning against the fence bordering the Maximoff lawn. You saw Wanda gasp and drop the thing back into the bushes but Agnes just grinned.

“Agnes!” Wanda replied in a way that seemed a little strained. She leaned over and covered the bush with an arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Then she noticed you, still a little ways behind Agnes, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “And [Y/N]!”

You gave her a sheepish wave, still trying to recollect yourself. The faint headache was still there, getting a bit stronger whenever your eyes or thoughts drifted to the object Wanda was obviously trying to hide. At least you weren’t sweaty and clammy anymore, though. Not that that would matter. It’s not like you would be holding anybody’s hand on the way to Dottie’s.

You wouldn’t mind doing so if it happened to happen though.

Stop, you chided yourself, Bad. No holding hands with Wanda.

Unless you hold hands with both her and her husband, your brain decided to think on its own, which is totally cool too.

No, you chided your brain this time, no holding hands with married couples.

Fine, your brain conceded. Then after a moment, Just kiss them instead.

No!

Good god, that had been too much coffee.

You shook your head slightly and watched and Agnes handed Señor Scratchy over to Wanda who headed back to the house with him, though you hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying prior.

“...he played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!” Agnes was saying, to which Wanda looked over her shoulder and answered, “Ah!”

Then Agnes looked over her shoulder, and yours, and said, “Oh, morning, Dennis!”

You side-stepped to let the man pass and took the advantage to move to Agnes’s other side as she chatted the mailman up. You couldn’t help laughing a bit as she made finger guns at him and told him to stick ‘em up.

“Ho,” Dennis responded, putting his hands up momentarily and smiling, “Don’t shoot, I’m just the messenger.”

“Pew pew!” Agnes sounded, waggling her “guns” at him.

You offered your own, less theatrical greeting to Dennis as he walked by, then leaned over and bumped hips with Agnes when you caught her watching him walk away.

“Please tell me you’re not having an affair with the mailman,” you said.

Agnes choked, then threw back her head and did what you could only describe as a cackle. “What? Heavens no!”

“Good,” you replied, then slid a bit closer. Shimmying your shoulders at her, you teased, “Because I’m the only one you need.”

Agnes snorted and swatted you over the head but she was smiling. “You bird dog, get out of here. I’m married!”

“And I will duel your husband at dawn,” you cried, “I am the only one who gets to fight bar stools for the lady’s affections!”

The two of you chortled and separated as Wanda came walking out of the house and back towards you. She looked rather lovely in the pants and cardigan combo that she wore; you also quite liked the pattern of her shirt.

She looked between the two of you—you felt like her eyes settled on you for just a second longer but that was probably the caffeine too—and as she got closer said, “Shall we?”

“Oh, we shall,” Agnes replied, stepping back from leaning on the fence and offering Wanda her arm.

You saw Wanda glance back at the bushes and she linked her arm with Agnes’s and before you could think about your headache and stop yourself, you followed her gaze. You were now standing on the other side of the fence of the bushes that Wanda had tried to hide the object she’d found in and with a quick peer, you could make out a toy helicopter within the branches.

There was something very off about the helicopter, as there had been about the sound earlier. Looking at it was like the effects of one of your worse migraines but without the intense pain. Time appeared to slow way down and your head somehow felt like it was both floating and behind crushed at the same time. When you tried to look around it was like you were moving outside of your body, as if you had turned around to look at your own house across the street and yet hadn’t moved at all. Images of Wanda and Agnes’s faces, the Maximoff house and your own, faces and places that you didn’t quite recognize, the helicopter all floated through your line of vision, mushing together or overlaying on top of each other, and you couldn’t be sure whether you were actually looking around or if you had closed your eyes and this was all happening behind your eyelids.

After what seemed like a century but you were sure was only a very slow second, the helicopter came into focus again, and you felt like you were gasping or squinting or both, but without actually doing either. The toy had a very bizarre color scheme as if the colors didn’t exist in this realm of existence; you couldn’t quite place the names of them no matter how hard you tried. The helicopter’s bright colors—almost too bright to you; it felt like looking at the sun but you couldn’t look away—appeared to turn the entire world around you to shades of gray, including yourself. Yet again, you felt like you moved without actually doing so as you raised your hand, a shade of gray instead of your skin tone. Looking further, your entire outfit wasn’t the combination of your two favorite colors that you thought it was but a variety of grays, as well as the sidewalk you stood on and the fence and bushes you stood next to.

Your gaze settled on the toy helicopter again even though you were pretty sure you’d never actually looked away.

Blood? The helicopter was the color of blood and sand, with a touch of the color you suddenly hated with every fiber of your being, shimmery gray.

Then there was a sound like a thunderclap happening directly inside your head and everything was back to normal.

Wanda has just finished linking arms with Agnes and the girls were stepping to one side so you could join their line. Looking at Wanda’s smile directed at Agnes, and Agnes’s scheming look directed at you, the world didn’t seem so out of sorts anymore. You felt both very solid and like you needed to steady yourself but you didn’t have time for the latter and instead, you stepped forward, seeming much more confident than you felt, to link arms with Agnes.

Agnes, with her scheming look, clearly had other ideas. She suddenly stepped off the curb, jerking herself and Wanda to the side, not only blocking the way you were walking but pulling Wanda directly in front of you. Agnes herself settled easily but Wanda, who had no idea what just happened, stumbled and tripped; she tried to catch herself on Agnes’s arm she held, only to find it was no longer there and ended up falling backward.

Your arms shot out reflexively and caught her around the waist. Wanda, in response, reached behind her and braced herself by throwing one arm around your shoulders while the other caught one of your wrists and twisting in such a way that caused her to turn towards you and kick one leg up so she could steady herself on the other. The result was an almost picture-perfect dip, with you cradling Wanda’s upper body in your arms, her embracing you, and the two of you staring at each other in pure shock.

Then there was Agnes, standing next to the curb and brushing out a crease in her dress, looking oh so pleased with herself.

A deep blush bloomed across your face as you looked down at the woman—the very married and greatly loved by her husband woman—and your outsides and insides had the same idea of wanting to curl in on themselves and… either scream in joy or die, you couldn’t be sure. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Wanda right away; along with the longing you often felt when seeing either her or her husband, though it was multiplied by infinity in the current moment, you felt a sudden fierce protectiveness over her come almost out of nowhere. You wanted Wanda Maximoff to be as happy and as safe as could be and it felt like if you let her go any moment before she was properly standing and solid on her feet that something very bad would happen like she would tip and fall and shatter into a million pieces.

Holding her was just very nice in general too.

You felt your fingers twitch at her waist and it drew you back out of your head. You noticed Wanda hadn’t yet pulled away either or moved in general, and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when you focused back on the face looking up at you.

Although she couldn’t possibly as red as you were, Wanda was flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears—she had the prettiest blushing face you’d ever seen, you were sure of it—and she was looking up at you from under her lashes, the expression on her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment and something softer than you couldn’t quite place. You felt her arm, warm and strong against the back of your shoulders, and her hands still tightly gripping your shoulder and wrist. For a moment, you felt the hand on your shoulder lightly knead the fabric of your jacket, as if testing something, before her entire grip on you loosened.

“Um,” she started, her voice sounding as dry as your throat felt, “thank you. For catching me.”

“Happy to help,” you croaked, then mentally kicked yourself and cleared your throat; the slight smile that appeared on Wanda’s lips wasn’t lost on you, though.

“Oh, lovebirds,” Agnes hollered over her shoulder as she walked ahead of you and Wanda, “the Queen of the Cul de Sac will order off with our heads if we don’t hurry!”

I had no idea that the devil wears plaid, you thought. Then you weren’t how long you and Wanda had been standing like that, or who had seen, and you were panicking.

You thought that maybe the two of you might scramble away from each other but it was quite the opposite. Wanda lowered the leg she still had raised and in one fluid motion, Wanda was back standing upright; in another, you twirled her around to your side and linked arms with her, and then the two of you were hustling after Agnes, who stopped and waited with her arm out so that you could link up with her too.

It was like something out of an old rom-com movie. Except it was a rom-com movie where the main character fancied both the love interest and her husband, something far too farfetched to end happily.

“Dottie can’t possibly be as bad as you say,” Wanda said. She looked from Agnes to you and you gave her a sympathetic look.

“Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death,” Agnes affirmed as the three of you made it to the outskirts of Queen Dottie’s castle and paused there. “If you don’t believe me, ask [Y/N].”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised.

You sighed. “The first day of meeting her I spilled wine on her dress and now I’m ninety percent sure that she thinks I want her dead. She also very much dislikes the idea of a lone stray cat living in her neighborhood.” You unlinked your arms with the ladies to gesture at yourself. “I was getting home late from work one night and she saw me, stepped outside to make sure I wasn’t going to dig through her trash bins.”

“Oh,” Wanda said with a grimace, “goodness.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, though,” you added quickly, “You’re lovely; I can’t imagine anyone not loving you.”

Agnes rolled her eyes while you blushed and scratched your neck. You could already see her gearing up for a pre-Dottie tutoring session.

And then she started with a look-over of Wanda’s outfit. “Wanda—”

“Hm?”

“—can I give you a bit of friendly advice?” Wanda must have caught the look too because she glanced over her outfit, the outfit you quite liked. Raising a hand to her chest, she asked, “Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

“Yes, but it’s too late for that.”

You scowled as worry bloomed on Wanda’s face. Unfortunately, you yourself had to learn how important dress was at these social events. You’d expected it to be just a gathering of friendly neighbors but it’s much more like a secret society and you had to look just right to fit it. Now you regretted not telling her sooner; you’d failed your first and only attempt at making a good impression so were content wearing whatever you wanted for the most part but Wanda definitely deserve the poor treatment she was going to get.

“Dottie is the key to everything in this town,” Agnes continued, unphased. “Country club memberships.”

Something you didn’t have.

“Parties.”

Something you didn’t go to.

“School admissions.”

Something you didn’t have to worry about any time soon but the way Agnes’s gaze drifted towards Wanda’s stomach made you wonder if the Maximoffs did. The thought made your stomach churn but you couldn’t figure out why.

“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wanda interjected with a smile and roll of her eyes. She happened to look your way and you thought the smile softened with her gaze just a tad.

You relaxed your shoulders.

Agnes trudged on. “You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.”

“Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.”

“I quite like that idea,” you offered. A wide-eyed glance from Agnes went unnoticed as you were too focused on the smile Wanda definitely gave you that time.

“Oh, Wanda, [Y/N]” Agnes said with a laugh, “that’s good.”

Wanda’s excitement for the event today seemed to lessen and you, apparently still high off the moment you thought you two had, gave her arm a gentle squeeze and an encouraging look.

She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave you an appreciative glance and pat on the hand. Your and her hands lingered for perhaps a second or two too long before they dropped back to your sides.

And then the queen and her merry homemakers sauntered their way out the front door.

“Everybody, hurry up please!” Dottie sang over her shoulder as she quickly walked down the front steps, followed by a line of housewives carrying various covered dishes.

Agnes twisted to look her way and waved. “Hiya, Dottie, your roses are divine!”

Both you and Wanda offered a polite wave as Dottie thanked Agnes, although she didn’t stop to chat. Her eyes did do a scan of your trio, though, and you felt your ears burn when a distasteful look was sent your way.

Agnes gave you a sympathetic smile and Wanda a look that said “Good luck; you’ll need it!” before sliding her arms under one of each of Wanda’s and yours and tugging the two of you along.

Your eyes wandered as one of the wives, Bev, talked animatedly about the setup for the talent show happening this weekend. Bored and feeling out of place, you looked over the group of women sitting a circle underneath the canopy tent by Dottie’s pool, purposely excluding Dottie and the woman talking, then the man jumping into said pool, then the man cleaning said pool.

You shouldn’t be here. This gathering really was a secret society of women of the neighborhood—not only women but wives in particular—to discuss homely and neighborhood business matters; you weren’t a wife and after screwing up with Dottie, you certainly weren’t involved in any of the other important business, nor did you have any interesting household gossip since you lived alone. The main you were here was because while out of place, you got along more decently with the wives than the husbands and when you’d first moved to town, Agnes thought you would be entertaining company to keep. She’d immediately hung you out to dry by telling her fellow women about you calling out their husbands’ poor attempts at comedy, which amused some of them enough to welcome you; in fact, Dottie had been one of those people, impressed by your initiative if nothing else, until you ruined your chances by ruining her dress. At the current meeting, you’d been specifically invited only because you were taking part in the talent show performance, which had also happened because Agnes heard you singing while doing garden work one day and somewhat strong-armed you in.

Your bored eyes eventually settled on watching Wanda, who sat a couple of chairs away on the other side of your mutual companion, and you were no longer bored. While you watched Wanda, she was watching Dottie like a hawk, awkwardly but cutely trying to mimic everything the other woman was doing. She stopped when Dottie started speaking, gripping the cup she was holding a lifeline and you chuckled moments before catty laughter erupted around you. You hadn’t heard what caused it, so you decided to tune back in.

“The devil’s in the details, Bev,” Dottie criticized, masking disdain with the lightness of her voice.

You heard Agnes mutter to Wanda, “That’s not the only place he is.” You couldn’t help but snicker.

Dottie was standing now and continued on, “As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary…”

Agnes passed a flask to Bev with a cheeky grin as she sat down next to you and after taking a sip, Bev offered it to you. You didn’t have to think twice before snagging a drink of your own and handing it back over to its home.

“I hear you’re singing,” Bev chirped quietly to you, “For the talent show? I bet you’re a lovely singer, can’t wait to hear it.”

You blushed slightly and thanked her but didn’t say much more to avoid Dottie’s wrath.

The wrath that Wanda and her current companion, a woman with dark skin who looked oddly familiar but whose name you couldn’t place, weren’t able to avoid themselves, apparently.

“We only have a few hours until showtime,” Dottie said, “so a little less cross-chatter and a little more focus.”

As Dottie prattled on, you observed the two women curiously.

“...is for the children,” Dottie finished.

“For the children,” the other women echoed.

“For the children,” Wanda added after everyone else had already spoken, earning several displeased looks.

You didn’t bother to say anything, opting to take Agnes’s flask and have another sip.

“So, I want you all to give yourselves a big hand—”

Wanda, looking petrified, stopped in the middle of taking a bite of a cookie and started clapping. You hid your laugh behind a hand; she still had an entire cookie hanging from her mouth.

“—at the appropriate time, of course,” Dottie chastised, then continued on yet again.

Oh, darling Wanda, you thought with a grin, you poor, sweet thing, you. You rested your chin in your hand and watched as she made herself proper until Bev nudged you to take your elbow off the table. You huffed slightly but did so anyway, then tried to catch Wanda’s eye for a moment of solidarity, only to see her talking to the dark-skinned woman again.

Your gaze shifted from Wanda to the other woman and your brows furrowed. You swore you knew her from somewhere though try as you might, you just couldn’t place that face, those eyes, that awkward but friendly smile. Perhaps another newcomer to the area that you’ve seen t on the streets or at a shop? You couldn’t imagine where she moved into, though, as you were sure the last two open houses had been the ones occupied by you and Wanda and Vision.

You felt a sharp pang in your temple and grunted softly. You weren’t about to have an episode here of all places, so you quickly looked away and put the thoughts aside.

Just as Wanda and the stranger shook hands over their table. Uh-oh.

“I’m Wanda.”

“I’m, uh, Geraldine!”

“And I’m irritated!”

After getting scolded by Dottie a second time, Wanda locked her jaw and resigned to sitting in her seat with her hands tucked in her lap. She finally looked over at you with helplessness in her eyes.

You responded with a mouthed “I told you so” and a wink, then silently told her that you’d talk to her after the meeting.

A comforting face seemed to be what she needed because she relaxed again, though not completely. She settled in for the rest of the meeting and, finishing off Agnes’s flask, so did you.

After the meeting was over, Dottie asked Wanda to sit back and help her clean up, which you knew meant Dottie doing nothing but being condescending while Wanda did all the work. While Agnes tried to get you to walk her home and then warned you against your plan, you were adamant about staying back and making sure Wanda got through the rest of her first Dottie encounter in one piece. At this point, you knew fitting in and having people’s positive opinions was important to Wanda; you oftentimes felt like that yourself. Unfortunately, Dottie wasn’t the type of person to give out positive opinions easily—you had to earn it, which was hard enough without accidentally interrupting the main meeting multiple times—and that protective feeling for Wanda that had come out of nowhere earlier today still hadn’t faded. You knew Wanda Maximoff of all people didn’t necessarily need you but you wanted to stick around, just in case she did.

Maybe you were hoping that she would.

That and you couldn’t help but take one last shot at getting on Dottie’s good side.

“...and that is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach,” Dottie was finishing from her perch on the edge of a pool chair.

Wanda walked over to where you stood organizing a cart of dirty dishes so they didn’t all come tumbling down when whichever pretty busboy that Dottie paid finally came to take it away. She was huffing, carrying over yet another pile of dirty plates on a large tray; you skirted around the dish cart and quickly came to her aid, taking as much as your hands could carry from off the top. She offered a grateful smile that you returned before you both unloaded onto the cart.

Who owned or even used this ungodly amount of dishes?

A person who paid various pretty people to just be around, you concluded a moment later.

As you continued to organize, Wanda turned back around to grab a pair of three-tiered dessert stands, both of which had a decent amount of desserts left on them. “Golly, you’re a wiz at all this committee stuff, Dottie. Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today, I feel so lucky.”

“You are,” Dottie agreed.

Wanda turned back to you again and made a face, then stuck out her tongue. You choked down a laugh after catching Dottie’s steely gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, settling for a smile as you took the trays.

Dottie was just as displeased as you’d expected she’d be that you insisted to stay behind and help.

“I really should try to make amends before this is over, shouldn’t I?” Wanda muttered. She caught a few plates slipping from the top of a pile and rearranged them.

“If you manage to do so, you really would be a Westview miracle,” you replied, taking a cup Wanda managed to catch before it tipped off the cart. “But first, how about I make you look ten times better, hm?”

Wanda gave you a confused look but you just patted her hand before switching places with Wanda and going to grab another tray of dishes.

You put on your friendliest smile as you began stacking as many cups as you could balance in one arm. “Say, Dottie—”

“Be careful,” Dottie chimed back, “or at least let me get out of your way first. Wouldn’t want a repeat of our first meeting, hm?” She ended her sentence with a venom-laced laugh, then gave you a tight smile.

You were pretty sure your eye twitched but you carried on, chuckling with her, “No, I suppose not. I really do apologize about that but you really shouldn’t hold such grudges. Worrying so much causes early-set wrinkles, you know.”

Dottie’s smile tightened further. You heard Wanda gasp and choke from behind you.

“Anyway, though, I really would like to make it up to you some time. My boss’s wife gave me two tickets to a food tasting event in town next weekend. I thought it might be something nice to do, plus it might give you some ideas for catering during the next event—”

“My husband and I would love to go out next weekend, thank you so much. Feel free to drop the tickets in the mailbox the next time you come around.” Dottie paused, then added. “Mailbox, on the opposite side of the porch than the trash bins.”

Your eye definitely twitched, maybe even both of them. You feigned an appreciative look as you finished stacking your dishes, then scowled as soon as you turned around and walked back to Wanda.

“Now,” you grumbled, “I beg the sweet release of death to come in a more timely manner. Oh, and whatever you do can’t possibly be worse than me, although I’m sure that was the case either way.”

“You poor thing.” Was all Wanda could manage, giving your arm a squeeze. “Guess it’s my turn.”

“Good luck, darling,” you said, then almost immediately regretted it. You don’t know why you decided to fake a British accent, nor why you felt the need to call her darling, but you couldn’t take back either of them now.

Wanda blinked, then laughed— before it was cut off by Dottie telling you both to get back to work.

“It’s more dahrling, less dahling,” Wanda teased. “British people do still use R’s.”

“Fascinating.”

Wanda grinned, gave you a final pat on the arm, then turned around to take her shot with Dottie. “I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie, and I would like to correct that if I can.”

A much better approach than you, you noted with an impressed nod. You walked a little ways off to grab another cart to even out the load of dishes; the current one seemed to sag under the weight.

“And how would you do that?” Dottie asked and you heard the rustle of fabrics rubbing together as she stood. “I’ve heard things about you. You and your husband.”

You stopped from your place behind the canopy’s pulled-back curtain. What on earth could she be talking about?

Wanda has the same thought. “Well, I don’t know what… you’ve been told… but I assure you, I don’t mean anyone… any harm.”

Your brows knitted together and you shuffled around the canopy’s aluminum frame to hear a little better. You couldn’t imagine Wanda hurting anybody, not on purpose anyway.

A pang in your temple. A surge of that fierce protectiveness.

You poked your head out just slightly from behind the canopy. All you could see was Wanda’s back and Dottie’s determined expression from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, and the fact that they were standing very close together.

“I don’t believe you,” Dottie stated simply.

As if on cue, the radio on the table started acting up, the music cutting to static combined with a jumble of noises. Like many things today, though, it sounded strange, as if it was coming from all around you, or directly from inside your skull. It stopped almost immediately as it started and music, regular-sounding music, returned. Normal, you thought, until you focused harder, and noticed a voice creeping from the background. It continued to creep closer, get louder like a person walking towards you would, until it was as loud as the static had been and the music was no longer audible. Your head throbbed as the voice sounded like it was coming out of your brain instead of into your ears but you couldn’t anything other than tighten your grip on the canopy.

The voice said, “Wanda. Wanda. Who’s doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda. Wanda. Wan—”

The radio shorted out, there was the sound of the glass Dottie was shattered, and there was another thunderclap in your head as the world around briefly flared into color. Color, not shades of gray, but then the gray was back as quickly as it had left. You didn’t know whether Dottie or the bizarre radio’s frequencies had crushed the glass or whether it had just been dropped, but you were walking over with a cloth in hand before you’d even gotten your senses back in order.

“Dottie,” Wanda gasped, her eyes flitting about.

Dottie caught a glimpse of the overly saturated blood spreading out from the gash in her palm—and seemed only mildly annoyed.

Wanda kept making sounds like she was trying to speak but didn’t quite know how to. She spun around to grab something to press to the wound and almost ran into you. She stared at you, cloth in hand, with wide eyes filled with equal amounts of fear and surprise, like your existence had been completely forgotten until that moment. Then Wanda grabbed the cloth, and your hand in the process; she gave you a silent thank you, your hand a squeeze so tight you felt her fingernails dig into the skin, then turned back to Dottie and pressed the cloth to her bloody palm.

Dottie grabbed her hand and said, somehow completely aware of the situation and also seeming totally spaced out, “Pop quiz, Wanda: How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself.”

Then she smiled and walked into her house.

You and Wanda stood in silence and it was then that you realized you felt the same way you figured Dottie did, similar to how you felt earlier today when you saw the toy helicopter in Wanda’s yard. You felt light and spacey and almost dizzy but without the world spinning, almost like you were a mind outside of your body, or a consciousness inside of a body that wasn’t yours. Time didn’t slow but rather sped up; you didn’t know when you’d started walking to Wanda’s aid and you didn’t remember the feeling of ever grabbing the cloth that you’d given her, and the whole event seemed to have fixed itself as soon as it started with the end result being your mind painfully aware of something being wrong but your body refusing to act like anything was.

All you’d really felt was your head throbbing, not with pain but with pressure, and the desperate urge to help Wanda. Then you did and everything was over.

Wanda.

You repeated her name in the form of a question; it felt different this time. She didn’t respond or really even move aside from reaching back towards you. You rushed over and grasped her arm and she let out a choked gasp.

“[Y/N].” She said it as if trying it out for the first time. It took her a bit longer to pry her eyes away from the spot where Dottie had been, then she held a hand to her mouth and looked at you. “What just happened?”

“I’m… I’m not sure myself.”

It took a bit longer again for her to speak, her eyes darting from you to the door Dottie had disappeared to and back. “Would you walk me home? Please?”

“Of course, Wanda.”

The walk home was quiet. The two of you had your arms linked as you did on the walk over but now Wanda gripped your arm with her other hand too. Like at Dottie’s pool, it was almost eerily silent except for your and Wanda’s footsteps. Tou could have chalked it up to being because everyone was already in town setting up for the talent show, something about it had you glancing around ever so often, as though you could catch someone peering at you through the bushes or through the crack of a partially opened manhole at any moment.

When you got to Wanda’s door, you had a quick chat about the talent show—as if none of the day’s earlier events had happened; she was very excited to hear you sing—and then she headed up the steps to her door. You gave her a wave and turned to walk home.

“[Y/N]?”

You stopped and turned back around, eyebrows raised slightly.

Wanda walked the three steps back down from her door and gave you a hug. “Thank you for being around today.”

“‘Scuse me, coming through!”

Of course, you’d be late. Of course, you’d get home, start practicing for your performance, pass out on your couch, and wake up five minutes before the show started with a suit and dress combo to still pull on and a few instruments to properly secure in their trunk.

You weaved your way between folks who were either going to the talent show or trying to ignore it and stumbled your way upstairs to the backstage.

Wanda was standing there in a magician’s assistant costume that almost had you on your knees and begging for mercy before you remembered you had a show to do that you were also very late for. She and the Black woman she’d been talking to at Dottie’s meeting—Geraldine, Wanda had informed you later—spun on you with an expectant gasp, only to slump in disappointment when they saw it was you.

“Golly, thanks for the warm welcome,” you muttered, setting your trunk down and popping it open. “Suppose I deserve it for missing most of the show, though.”

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” Wanda said as she paced over, “You look fab and I’m sure your performance will be a blast—”

“If I’m still performing?” you asked, directing the question at Geraldine with a hopeful smile.

“If you’re ready before the husband gets here, you can take their place,” Geraldine offered, “If not, you can finish the show off.”

Finishing the talent show, not nerve-wracking at all.

“Vision’s not here?” You gave Wanda a questioning look as you walked past her to look

at yourself in a full-body mirror on the other side of the stage to make sure your look was still in order. The top half of your outfit was a full, simple, black and white tuxedo with a matching black fedora that slightly offset on top of your hair; one of Dottie’s white roses, which you acquired after stuffing her and her husband’s food taster tickets in her mailbox on your way into town, poked out from the hat’s band. The bottom half was a simple skirt—actually, the skirt and undershirt of your outfit was a dress that your mother had pieced together and sent you for your “big night”—that was fashionable for the time but in a sleek shade of black that matched the rest of your tuxedo and with a white band around the hem, paired with a sheer stocking of a plaid pattern and low-heeled shoes that you would return to the shop tomorrow. Finally, for a little touch of color and a little for pop, a golden bejeweled broach was pinned to a crimson pocket square poked out of the chest pocket of your tuxedo jacket, golden geometric earrings hung from your lobes, and a couple of bejeweled bracelets and rings in the same colors adorned your hands. You wore bright, unglossed lipstick and nail polish to match, despite that not being in fashion. Luckily everything still seemed in order.

Wanda gave an exaggerated shrug as you walked back over to your instrument trunk. “Nowhere to be found, like he vanished!”

As if summoned, Vision came wobbling around the corner and up the steps. Well, he almost did; it took him two tries to get up the steps without falling back down.

“Oh, is that him?” Geraldine asked, her face twisting into a look of concern. “Looks like he’s gots a little hitch in his giddyup. Whoa!”

You twisted around, ukulele in hand to check if it was tuned, just as Vision was making it upstairs the second time. You smiled, quirking an eyebrow, only to stumble as the British man threw his arm around you to steady himself.

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” Vision exclaimed, his words slurring together just slightly. He began swaying and decided to lean almost his full weight on you; when you grunted and moved the instrument you were holding out of the danger zone of getting smacked is when Vision appeared to notice that he was balancing against a person instead of the railing by the stairs. He leaned his face closer and squinted at you—now that you weren’t concerned about going onstage immediately, it was significantly easier to get flustered by Vision and his, yes, absolutely smashing wife—then grinned and said, “Why it’s [Y/N] too, and looking equally as ravishing!”

You tried to keep yourself in check. “Heya cool head, not your wife. That being said, I’d say you look smashing yourself but you just seem positively smashed.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision replied, “I already told her that she looked nice. You heard me right, honey?” He went from so close to your face that his bangs were getting in your eye to only a hand gripping your shoulder as he flung his limbs wide, which was apparently a necessary move to look at his wife’s face.

You gave Wanda a look that was equal parts worried and amused. The look she returned was just worried.

Wanda walked over to you and helped maneuver you out of Vision’s grip so you could continue tuning your ukulele—actually, it was Vision’s that you were borrowing—then tugged her husband so you were at least a couple feet out of reach. “Vis, where have you been?”

“Oh, uh… me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses and shoes,” Vision responded, talking in a way that sounded like he was trying to talk under his breath while still speaking at full volume. “No, wait, that’s not it. Shoe horses! Oh, hrn… Ah! Horse’s shoes!” He put two thumbs up and smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Horseshoes,” you offered from your corner by the railing. You were done playing with the ukulele and checked to make sure your tambourine was safe and sound.

“Oh, yes!” Vision was his thumbs up towards you, both arms stretched out as far as they could reach. “Brilliant, you’re absolutely brilliant, [Y/N]! Aren’t they brilliant, Wanda, very brilliant and very nice-looking?”

“Well, uh, yes, I suppose,” Wanda agreed awkwardly, glancing over at you before pulling Vision back to face her; you swore you even saw her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.”

You were too busy biting back a smile to hear the rest of the conversation. You rearranged your hat and jacket back into place from Vision knocking them askew, then brushed any wrinkles out of your skirt. You glanced over at Geraldine, who was peeking through the curtains at the main part of the stage.

“I was just playing with his shoes!” Vision suddenly hollered, as the members of the previous act, including someone dressed in a horse costume, made their way around the stage.

“What is going on?” Wanda cried.

Geraldine responded in kind, “You are!”

You considered taking their places so Wanda had time to knock some sense into her husband but you knew if you went out now, you would sound like fingers on a chalkboard, and going out on stage at all was bad enough. Instead, you walked over and gave the couple an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “Good luck!” before making your way down the steps and around to the viewing area to find a place to sit.

Dottie was onstage. Her hand seemed fine now. “I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the crowd echoed, mostly deadpan.

“I have yet to see a child,” you stated at the same time, sitting back in an extra chair off to the side of the stage as to not annoy audience members with the vocal warmups you were about to start doing.

Dottie continued, “And for our final act—”

Geraldine scurried out from behind the curtains at muttered something in Dottie’s ear before rushing away again.

Dottie quickly picked you on the sidelines and gave a strained smile, although the daggers she was glaring made you sink down in your chair. “Sorry, everyone. For our next to final act, I give you Wanda and Vision.”

Wanda sauntered out from behind the curtains and down to the front of the stage, then planted herself slightly off to the side and threw one hand up as an entrance cue to Vision. At first, he didn’t appear and Wanda’s bravado faltered slightly as she looked out into the crowd.

You caught her eye and gave her an assuring nod.

Then Vision flying out of curtains and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hello Westview! Good afternoon!” Still introducing, he stumbled down to the main part of the stage, bumping into a railing at some point and apologizing to it. He sort of settled and continued, “I am Glamour and this is my delightful assistant Illusion.”

“I am Glamour,” Wanda chimed in, talking and moving with even more animation than she normally would, “and he’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Vision said simply, then rambled on, “Tonight, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” He ended this definitely off-script statement with a matter-of-fact shrug and nod.

You regretted not going on first.

“Flourish!” Vision suddenly hollered, waving his hands in such a way.

This was going to be chaos, you decided, and it was.

Wanda and Vision’s act was a mess but at least it was an entertaining one. While the act did go on, Vision spent most of his time prattling on and yelling “Flourish!” while Wanda tried to keep things in check. Some of the tricks were good and even impressive at times before the “inner workings of the universe” became clear moments later. Vision’s first trick was to float up into the air, only for a pulley system to be revealed as Wanda moved a sign offstage. For the second, he picked up a piano with one hand only for the jarringly realistic instrument only for Wanda to slip up while carrying the one-dimensional prop away and show its bare wooden back with a large handle to grasp.

At one point, though, Vision trotted offstage and tried to perform a card trick for a friend while Wanda was helpless to stop him, but the end result was him going through an entire deck of cards trying to find the correct one. Then he went to pull Señor Scratchy out of his hat, only to find his hat laying on stage and Agnes’s rabbit hopping across it until Wanda managed to catch him and take him backstage.

Regardless of which tricks hit and which went wonky, the crowd, you included, seemed to love the Maximoff duo and hung onto the entire act. There were gasps and awes and you were personally still dumbfounded by the one where Vision pulled a hat through his body; the backstage curtains happened to fall at the perfect time to reveal a multitude of mirrors, only one of which that you knew had been back there previously, but a dull throb in the back of your head warned you to just let the mystery slide. After all, it wasn’t as fun if you spent the entire show pondering.

For Vision and Wanda’s final trick, Wanda brought out a large box called the Cabinet of Mysteries. At first, Vision stated that he was going to make his wife disappear but then he started locking up the Cabinet without her inside.

You caught Wanda’s act begin to slip again as her smile faltered and she began scanning the crowd. No else did, though, because Agnes suddenly hollered an offer of audience participation in the form of her husband, which caused everyone including Vision to laugh.

Then Vision was back to his trick, slapping the Cabinet’s side with a plastic wand and yelling, “Abrakadabra!”

“Uh, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured without breaking her pose.

Vision responded loudly, “Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause and you chewed your lip as you glanced around. People were waiting for the finale and Vision had just messed it up big time.

A chant of “What’s in the box?” started up.

Then you happened to look back to the stage just in time to make eye contact with Wanda as she looked around.

She grinned.

And then you were somewhere else, surrounded by darkness and wood panels.

You were only there for a moment but your eyes still needed a moment to adjust as Wanda and Vision open the Cabinet of Mysteries’ doors and you were greeted with a gasping and then applauding crowd. You blinked and, disoriented but not wanting to ruin Wanda and Vision’s successful grand finale, you put on your best smile and hopped out of the wooden box to strike a flourished pose.

“Ah-ha,” Vision voiced, seeming just as surprised as the crowd before grinning walking stepping up to your side.

Wanda stepped up to your other side and when you raised an eyebrow at her, she gave you a cheeky grin and mouthed, “Magic.” The wink she gave you afterward could have sent you to the moon but you still had your own performance to do. She made sure you were reminded of that by holding up a microphone.

Wanda and Vision each slipped an arm around your waist and you did the same to them despite their touch feeling very warm underneath the jacket of your uniform, and with one last “Flourish!” from Vision, the three of you bowed. The three of you bowed two more times before standing fully again. Wanda and Vision began to move away from you but you slid your arms to grab their own, keeping them there.

Wanda leaned in slightly, talking through her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Grab the tambourine in my trunk and go sit by Agnes. Ask her to inform you and wait for the cue.” When Wanda looked at you with a raised brow, you mimicked her cheeky grin and wink, mouthing, “Music.”

Vision leaned in now, although way too close. “What are we doing?”

“Tambourine, apparently,” Wanda responded, stepping away from you. You figured they were going to go and do as you asked but instead, Wanda continued, “Vis, take the cabinet and grab the tambourine; I have an introduction to do.”

Vision stood around for a moment before doing what Wanda told him to and Wanda slipped her arm around your waist once more and brought you a few steps farther to the front of the stage.

Now sitting at the edge of it was Vision’s ukulele and the mic stand, probably courtesy of Geraldine.

With you close at her side and you unsure where to put your hands, Wanda attached the microphone she held to the stand and turned it on. “As Dottie has said several times tonight, thank you once more for coming to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the audience echoed, still mostly deadpan.

“I still haven’t seen a single one,” you muttered. This earned you a pinch to the hip from the hand around your waist and you suddenly felt like your body was the same temperature as the surface of the sun.

“Now,” Wanda continued without missing a beat, “allow me to introduce helper of Illusion and Glamour’s grand finale and the final final act of tonight’s talent show, [Y/N]!”

The audience clapped and Wanda did with it as she detached from your side and slipped backstage after giving you an electric smile. Suddenly, you were much more aware of being on a stage in front of your entire town, save for the two people you actually wanted to see in it.

“Um, yes, hello,” you said into the mic, standing a little too close. You didn’t know it was possible to feel the amount of heat burning behind your cheeks and ears, and you wished to could shed your jacket but figured that would ruin the ensemble. You shook your head to clear it as you bent down to pick up your ukulele—

—and when you stood back up, you spotted Wanda and Vision—who seemed to have sobered up somehow—sitting at Agnes’s table with a tambourine on the table between them.

You bit back a smile as your gaze flitted between them; they each gave you a smile in turn before you continued, “Um, so, as you heard, I am the final act. My name is [Y/N] and I will be performing a song, “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, acoustic on ukulele.”

You strummed the ukulele once, just to make sure it was still in tune, then you began to play. You leaned back from the mic to clear your throat and after a couple of bars, you came in:

“You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you”

You were a bit pitchy in the beginning but it didn’t take you too long to find where you needed to be, then it was smooth sailing from there; you even put a bit of a beat into it with a tap of your foot, which with a hard heel on a wooden floor in front of a silent crowd wasn’t too difficult to hear. At first, you kept your gaze pointed directly ahead and slightly above the crowd but as you began to relax and get into it, you couldn’t help but catch glances of a tapping foot here or a finger tapping on a glass cup there. Finally, your eyes drifted to where they wanted to be and you couldn’t look away from the pair seated next to Agnes even if you’d wanted to.

Vision was bopping along as he would when he was teaching you the chords and notes you were looking for, both feet and all ten fingers tapping, though his smile was particularly bright. Wanda was looking at you some type of sweet way, with that soft expression she’d had when you’d caught her in a dip earlier just today.

“I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you”

You wanted the first part of the song to be softer but as you hit the second part of the chorus you smoothly added in a little action. You put a little flourish in your strumming—and almost missed a word because the idea of calling it a flourish made you almost laugh—added a little more power to your voice, and cued Agnes in, who began clapping along to the proper beat. It didn’t take too long for your audience, especially those who’d you caught tapping along earlier, to join in until the entire crowd was doing it, and happened you catch Vision’s eye while he clapping along a little more animated than everyone else. He grinned, a little bashful by the look of it.

Once she’d gotten everyone in, Agnes stopped clapping herself and instead pulled a tambourine of her own out of her handbag. You watched her nudge Wanda, who stopped her clapping and picked up the other tambourine, then followed Agnes’s lead until she got a hang of it. You’d think two tambourines would be a little hard to hear over a sea of clapping but it was Agnes and Wanda and as usual, they figured out a way.

You knew you’d chosen a popular song and you knew that some people would know it in full but despite Agnes trying to convince you that she’d have everyone joining in, you definitely didn’t expect the entire crowd to be able to stay in sync and follow the ebbs and flows of the entire song. It really was a bit of a magical moment and you found with that thought, you found your eyes settling on Wanda, who was jamming away on her tambourine and dancing in her seat, without missing a beat.

She must have noticed because she raised her head and looked back at you.

The song ended not long after and you couldn’t help clapping for the crowd as they did for you. You took your second set of bows on stage that day, hollered a “Thank you” to the crowd, and took off to the section of backstage that was still hidden by curtains with a wave as Dottie took your place to do the talent show’s conclusion. With layers of dark fabric now between you and the rest of the talent show, you could only hear muffled voices, which was perfectly fine with you as you were too busy tossing your tux jacket and hat aside and shaking out the tautness in your limbs caused by the nerves of performing on your own in front of a decently sized crowd. Although, technically, you and the crowd were performing by the end of it.

You tried to tune in to Dottie’s voice as you bounced over to look yourself over in one of the mirrors left over from Vision and Wanda’s performance. Your outfit was intact, albeit a little bit ruffled from the dancing around you just finished doing, with your hair looking a bit flat from being stuck under a hat. Your face was flushed with a warmth that you felt from your toes to your hairline but what little makeup you wore looked just as it did earlier minus your lipstick having faded somewhat. The best and worst part of your current state, you thought, came from that part; the smile you were wearing was radiant but it was lasting so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt, and even if you purposely tried to frown it away, it popped back up a few seconds later.

Especially when you thought about how much Wanda and Vision were enjoying themselves, because of you.

“Um, excuse me.”

Your gaze turned its attention to look at the reflection of Geraldine, who was standing behind you, in the mirror. “Oh, hey.”

She smiled, pleased that you didn’t seem disrupted. “Your singing was really twitchin’, you had the whole crowd into it!”

“I think that was more Agnes’s glaring than anything, but thanks.” You sent a less starstruck smile at her in the mirror, then picked up your hat to fan yourself as you turned around to face her.

“Agnes is way out herself,” Geraldine agreed, though you saw her smile falter and caught her fingers tapping nervously on the clipboard she held. “She could probably out-power Dottie if she really wanted to.”

“She doesn’t,” you affirmed, “she likes to use Dottie as a reason to sneak drinks into social gatherings too much.”

Geraldine smiled again but she wouldn’t fully look at you and when she did, her eyes looked like they were searching for something.

“You okay?” When Geraldine looked at you, surprised, you nodded to her hands that couldn’t seem to keep still. “Seem a little unglued and you keep looking at me funny.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Geraldine stammered a bit, then stopped. She took a deep breath, then tried again, “I know we saw each other at Dottie’s earlier and before you went onstage but… Do you know me?”

Your eyebrows rose high up on your forehead.

“It’s just,” she continued, sounding like she was forcing herself to talk slower, “you look familiar to me and I’m wondering if you think the same thing.”

“I… I suppose I did when I first saw you,” you said, setting your hat aside. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you couldn’t help glancing around; specifically, you looked towards the curtains separating you and Geraldine from the outside world and wished that wasn’t the case. “I figured we’d met in passing, tooling or something.”

When you looked back at Geraldine, it was as if your personalities had changed. You were the meek one, shifting around unsettled, while she stood watching you with a thoughtfulness that was far from the nervousness you saw in her earlier. “I don’t know where I’m from or why I’m here. Do you?”

You couldn’t be sure whether she was asking you about yourself or her but your head was suddenly too foggy to care. Foggy and throbbing with a pain that made darkness tinge the corners of your vision. You went to step to the side and steady yourself on a nearby chair but found yourself reeling backwards. You smashed into the mirror behind you, which smashed into the wall behind it and shattered; you managed to stumble away from it before you got too badly hurt but you still felt shocks of pain up your right arm and a particularly bad one in your hand as you caught glass.

Before you could run into something else or completely lose balance and fall to the ground, you slowly maneuvered to the floor and braced yourself on one knee and your unharmed hand and you were vaguely aware that Geraldine had disappeared. You squinted through blurriness at your other arm and watched as spots of blood bloomed across the white fabric of your sleeve, weeped from the gash across your palm.

No, wait.

Not only blood but color spread out your bleeding wounds. Flesh tone bled from your palm and color wetted the jewels on your bracelets and rings, color seeped from a tattered tear in your shirt and faded into the wooden floor in your line of vision, as if everything was on one piece of paper and watercolor paint was bleeding across the lines of a sketch.

“[Y/N?]” Vision’s voice called, “Are you back here?”

You tried to hide your hurt arm behind your back and jerked your head in the direction of voices getting closer. You immediately regretted the sudden movement and tried to blink away pain—

When you opened your eyes, you were standing, completely fine, in front of the mirror, completely unbroken, and fanning yourself with your hat with your other arm, completely unharmed, at your side. When your eyes flitted around, looking for Geraldine in the mirror’s reflection, she was nowhere backstage.

Instead, your eyes settled on Vision and Wanda walking through the curtains, smiling and animatedly chatting and holding a small trophy between them.

Once they were through the fabric they looked around, Vision’s bright eyes settling on you just a moment before Wanda’s did.

You could have melted. Whatever concern or worries you had just a moment earlier certainly did.

“[Y/N],” Wanda beamed, “look at what we won!” She pointed and Vision raised the trophy for you to properly see; you managed to read “Inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year” etched into its base before the pair walked over.

You turned to meet them, placing your hat back on your head and snagging your tuxedo jacket to slip back into. “A trophy, congrats!”

“We tried to get you to come up on stage with us,” Vision said, “but we couldn’t find you!”

He certainly seemed to have sobered up since you last stood face to face with him.

You apologized, “Sorry, I had to come backstage. I was overheated and far too overwhelmed by the crowd, I don’t think I could have it up there again either way!”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Her expression shifted from proud to worried in a moment and she went to press a hand to your forehead before she seemed to decide against it. “Are you feeling any better?”

You felt the need to take a quick glance around backstage, though you couldn’t explain why. Then you nodded. “I am, much. Actually, since I wasn’t able to join you on stage and congratulate you there, how about we all get changed into clothes a little less eye-catching and we have dinner at my place, hm? I’ll cook and everything.”

“They can cook?” Vision teased to Wanda without lowering his voice at all.

“They can,” you responded, giving his side a quick jab, then smiled and slid around them. Stopping at the edge of the stage, you offered out your arms to them both. “At least a little bit. Shall we?”

Wanda faked a thinking pose and when Vision caught on he did the same.

“We-ell,” Wanda sang, tilting her head from side to side, “Oh, alright, we shall.” She walked over, tugging Vision along with her, and they each linked arms with you.

The three of you headed offstage.

“I disagree about changing, though,” Vision claimed suddenly; both you and Wanda gave him a look. “I think we all look—”

“Smashing?” offered Wanda.

“Ravishing?” you suggested.

“—absolutely neato,” Vision finished, nodding. “And I think we should show off to the town!”

You shook your head but you were smiling. “I already showed off to the town enough today.”

“And I’m still showing off too much,” Wanda agreed. She kicked one stocking-covered leg out for good measure.

“Oh, fine.” Vision scoffed.

He certainly did not admit defeat, though, and spent the rest of the walk home trying to convince the two of you.

Wanda and Vision, without his human disguise, danced into their home after a lovely dinner at [Y/N]’s—they could cook a bit!—and as they walked through the door, Wanda spun herself into Vision’s arm.

Vision slightly dipped her and said in a voice that was an octave or two lower, “You were tremendous Glamour.”

“As were you, Illusion,” Wanda responded with a pearly smile. She stood up straight and walked over to put their new trophy on the coffee table as Vision shut the front door. “Oh, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all!”

Wanda sat and got comfortable on the couch and Vision soon followed. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”

“Well, with a few modifications,” Wanda said as she curled in closer under her husband’s arm.

“And it was all for the children,” Vision said. Halfway through the phrase, Wanda joined in, then they chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together.

Then Wanda leaned back into the couch and Vision’s side, quiet. She glanced around the room, absentmindedly playing with Vision’s fingers.

“Wanda, darling, is something wrong?”

Vision’s voice brought her attention back to him. She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips, then looked at their joined hands. Her smile faltered; she felt like something was missing.

“[Y/N] made this funny point at the talent show, about the ‘for the children’ thing; ‘I haven’t seen one yet’ or something like it,” she said out of the blue. “They were an angel with me today.”

“Oh?” Vision responded softly. He seemed to cue into her befuddled emotions and leaned back, looking at her intently.

“At Dottie’s,” she clarified, then added, “They also walked me home because I was a little shaken up. Very sweet.”

“That’s right,” Vision said, “You said something strange happened at Dottie’s today?”

“More like a few weird things,” Wanda confirmed, then recounted the details. Most of them anyway; she kept out the part about the radio talking to her for the sake of her and Vision’s sanity. It sounded legitimately insane and was probably the result of her fear at the time making her imagine things.

Then again, Dottie had heard it as well… She couldn’t confirm that [Y/N] had.

“My, that is indeed bizarre,” Vision said. His hairless brow furrowed. “Is Dottie alright?”

“Well, she must be,” Wanda replied, “She was perfectly fine at the show today and didn’t say a word about it, so…”

Vision gave a thoughtful nod, then shrugged. “Must be.”

They both faded into cozy, albeit wondering, silence. Wanda began playing with Vision’s fingers again and she happened to look towards the front door.

“Hey Vis?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think [Y/N]’s attractive?”

Vision took in an unneeded breath so fast that he almost choked on his tongue. He spluttered, “Pardon?”

“You know,” Wanda continued, turning back in his direction but not looking at him, “A fox. A hunk. Ravishing.”

If Vision could blush he probably would have. He removed his arm from around Wanda’s shoulders and scratched the side of his face. “I was feeling weird when I said that. You know, the gum. I didn’t mean—well that’s not to say they’re not attractive either! Because they are. I mean, they look fine, I certainly wouldn’t say unattractive by any means, and I quite like their company. But love, I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I didn’t mean to offend—”

“I think they’re attractive,” Wanda stated simply, bringing Vision’s rambling to a quick halt. Her gaze drifted back towards the front door and she briefly used her magic to view the home across the street. Some of the lights were still on; she imagined their dinner companion was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from their meal.

She wouldn’t mind cooking with [Y/N] or washing dishes with them after meals. Or having both Vision and them coming home in the evenings.

“Oh. Um, well… Oh?”

“Quite like their company too,” Wanda went on, agreeing with one of Vision’s earlier statements. Her eyes moved to the plant [Y/N] had brought them not long after they’d first moved in; the plant had outgrown its old pot at this point but had its original ribbon still intact on the current one. “And they’ve always got manners and compliments and they’re always getting so nervous that they're going to come off the wrong way.”

“Yes,” Vision said slowly, “They treat me the same way. Sometimes, if I’m not working, I’ll come to work the next day and have files on my desk with little notes clipped to them. And they’ll sometimes even bring me a snack or a water cup after coming back from their break or lunch, even though I’ve never even pretended to drink or eat in front of them.”

“Well, to be fair,” Wanda said, “regular humans do just randomly eat and drink things, and they do think you’re a regular human.”

“I often wish they didn’t, though,” Vision mumbled, rubbing his jaw, “because I’m not a big fan of lying to them and pretending as I do. I keep their snacks in my drawer until I’m heading home and then throw it out on the way because I don’t want them to see and feel bad.”

Wanda nodded, understanding. “I’m not exactly jazzed about lying to them either.”

They simultaneously sighed and slumped together.

What odd feelings, Wanda thought, for a married couple to have about their neighbor across the street.

“Wanda?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you feel the same way about them as you do me?”

Wanda tilted her head from side to side and tapped her chin as she thought. “Not how I feel about you now, no. But how I felt about when I first met you? Maybe. Or, at least, something like it.”

Vision hummed. “They feel a bit familiar, don’t they?”

“And we have such a good time together, the three of us,” Wanda added.

A small spell of silence again.

Then Wanda said, “I think we should ask them on a date.”

Vision almost choked on his tongue again. “You think we should— I mean— You and me? As you and me together or you and me separately?”

“Why not both?”

Wanda’s husband’s eyes bugged out of his head. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, she may have laughed.

“Can we… Can we even do that?” Vision asked.

“I mean, I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, shrugging. “It’s not illegal to date another person. Just marry them, I think. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s illegal to do that.”

“But isn’t that… An affair? Of sorts?” Vision squinted, quickly glancing between his wife and the window, whose curtains shielded his view from the person in question’s home. It almost felt disrespectful talking about [Y/N] without them present, which was odd in itself.

“No, not if we’re both dating the person in question, I don’t think,” Wanda said. Her brows knitted together a bit but then she perked up and placed her hands on Vision’s thigh. “I know when we can do it!”

“When?”

“We forgot to get your ukulele back,” She responded with a big smile. “We can go get it and ask them on a date.”

“What would we even do on a… three-way date?” Vision cringed at himself. He would never call them a three-way again.

“Picnic,” Wanda offered, then listed off, “Dinner out. A walk. Trip to a passion pit for a movie. Dancing but that would require one of us to know how to dance. Maybe [Y/N] knows how to dance!”

“I know how to dance,” Vision said with a scowl.

“No, hon, you don’t, but you’re wonderful all the same,” Wanda said and kissed him on the nose. “Besides, the three of us have almost been attached at the hip since we’ve gotten to know each other; it wouldn’t exactly be odd for us to go out and do things together. Hell, we did the talent show together today and it went very well!”

“The gum?”

“It went decently well!”

Wanda could see Vision warming up to the idea just as much as she was. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with dates fit for three people.

After a moment, Vision gave her a solid nod. “Alright then! When we see them to get my ukulele, we’ll ask them on a date.”

“Yay!” Wanda clapped. “A date!” She hopped up from her seat and, drifting back to their previous conversation, she said, “Well, I think the children need some popcorn!” Vision said her name and she spun back to look at him. “Hm, what?”

Vision slowly stood and looked pointedly down at her stomach. She did too, then gasped and touched her ballooned out stomach. She looked as if she were a few months pregnant and after holding her stomach for a bit longer, she knew she was. Wanda looked up at her husband with a mixture of fear and wonder in her eyes; the look on his face mimicked her own.

“Vision,” she said softly, “is this really happening?”

Vision searched her face as he gently grasped her hands. His mouth quirked up just slightly as he answered, “Yes, my love, it’s really happening.”

They leaned for a kiss.

They were interrupted by a crash outside.

Both Wanda and Vision jumped as they looked towards the door. Then Vision scowled and released Wanda’s hands to walk over to the door.

“If it’s that damn tree again,” he loudly grumbled, “I am going to… rip it out by the roots!”

He walked outside and Wanda quickly followed.

You jumped back from your sink, almost dropping a dish in shock from the crash that had just come out front. You couple a couple breaths to calm yourself, then put your dish and drying rag down and headed to the living room.

“I swear,” you warned, loud enough so the trees outside could hear you, “I’ll come out there with a chainsaw! I don’t have one but I’ll find one and I’ll do it!”

You walked to the front door. You peeled back the curtain hanging from its window to see Wanda and Vision—who looked strange, though it was too dark outside to tell why—walking outside their own home and out to the sidewalk. You watched them, debating on whether to walk outside as well and help investigate or not.

“I don’t see anything!” you heard Wanda holler. Almost immediately, her and her husband’s gaze were drawn to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.

You followed their gaze and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the three of you watched the manhole slowly move out of place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision closer to Wanda, and you wished you could too, but you were stuck watching as someone climbed out of the now gaping hole in the road.

A… beekeeper?

A beekeeper and swarm of bees climbed out of the manhole.

You felt that now-familiar feeling again, foggy-headed but not in pain and fiercely protective of, this time, both her and her husband and her children.

Children?

You scrambled to get your front door open as the strange beekeeper of the sewer turned to look at the Maximoffs. You looked down to mess with the doorknob—

When you looked up again, you were standing on the front porch of the Maximoff house.

How weird.

You spun and looked around wildly, your eyes settling on the manhole cover closed tightly shut it in the street for just a few seconds longer than the rest of the environment, but everything seemed in order. Slowly relaxing, you turned back to your task of returning Vision’s ukulele.

You raised your right hand to knock, then stopped.

Color began blooming across your arm, beginning from the same spots you vaguely remembered cutting yourself on a broken mirror recently. This time, though, there were no cuts or blood, just gray tones coming to life in bright, vivid color. Gray turned to the color of skin and the green of your blouse—you’d thought it’d been green before but now you could properly see it—and when you spun around to observe the rest of the neighborhood, it was suddenly in color too. When you slowly, awestruck, turned back to Wanda and Vision’s house, it was wonderfully colored too, as was the ukulele in your lovely, now-in-color hand.

You grinned and excitedly knocked on the door, only for it to be opened moments later by Vision, wearing a very nice yellow and blue sweater or a white-colored shirt.

“Oh, [Y/N]!” He said it in a way that was a little too loud and he nervously glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, who stood a few feet back in a beautiful outfit of bright red with her hands on her expecting stomach.

You really did like her shirt.

You just liked her.

You just liked her and her husband quite a lot.

“Sorry, bad time?” You held out Vision’s ukulele to him. “I finished cleaning up and was about to go to bed when I noticed this still sitting on my coffee table.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Vision chirped, still just a little too loud than necessary.

“Oh, goodness, Vis, come inside.” Wanda walked over and nudged Vision out of the way, then smiled at you and took the ukulele out of your hand.

“Remember when we first met and you said he wasn’t always like that?” you quipped with a crooked smile, which broke into a cheek-hurting grin when Wanda giggled in response.

“Suppose I hadn’t realized it yet,” Wanda teased back. She offered the ukulele to Vision, who was still standing nearby and who was now pouting, then she moved to do the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? We were just talking about you.”

Now you were the awkward one. “Um, yeah, sure.” You stepped inside and, glancing again at Wanda’s belly, added, “I can’t believe I forgot a baby gift. Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already.”

Wanda blinked, then shut the door behind you. “Oh nonsense. There’s plenty of time left for that.”

“I feel like it came out of nowhere; they might be here sooner than you think!”

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theyscreamjade · 3 years

Note

shoto and bakugo headcannon of a hot makeout with their female y/n!!

Steamy Make-Out.

I know you requested a headcannon but my brain was screaming for a two mini imagines because I love to get detailed asf! SO! I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DEAR ANON!

Disclaimer: (ATTEMPTED) Samwiches, and cursing.

——————————————

Shoto Todoroki

You bit your tongue, trying to perfect a recipe that your mother sent you. It was for the perfect cup of honey milk tea that was passed down from generation to generation. Something about that sweet taste of honey, milk, and a bit of strong earl gray tea or English Breakfast. You decided to make to surprise this for your boyfriend since he did mostly drink it a lot.

You let out a soft sigh, smiling at the beautiful creation on the kitchen counter. You turned around to grab the honey to finish as the door closed, hearing your boyfriend take his shoes off. “Baby?” He called out as you responded. “In the kitchen!” His eyes lit up a bit, smelling the sweet drink before he walked to you.

“What’s this?” He asked, looking at the two drinks. “I asked my mom for that recipe I kept telling you about, so here it is!” You said, happily before popping the lid to the honey open. Shoto watched as you attempted to squirt the honey out of the container but it didn’t budge.

You popped the lid back on and tapped the bottom to make it come down. After a soft plop, honey soon emerged out as it filled the cups evenly. “Hungry? I can make us a snack with this if you’d like.” You offered, leaning onto the counter. The off-shoulder sweater you were wearing dropped low, showing your collarbone and neck as well as your breasts which were pressed together from your position.

“Yeah...I’d like a snack.” He said before you sat up, turning towards the kitchen cabinets to grab a random pastry as his hand suddenly touches your waist. He spun you without hesitation before pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes were wide from his random affection before closing while your arms wrapped around his neck. A simple kiss increased to a steamy make out as his hands reached underneath your thighs. He softly sat you on the counter while your tongue’s fought for dominance.

Your hands were in his silky hair while moans and grunts slipped from you two, echoing around the quiet home. He soon broke the kiss, kissing every part of your neck, nibbling on your collarbone before a loud buzz came from the door, signaling that someone was at the door. With a soft sigh, he pulled away before whispering in your ear.

“We’ll finish this later, Baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki Bakugo

You laughed, watching the movie with your boyfriend while his arm was behind your head. After much arguing, debates and more, he finally agreed to watch this movie with you. He did laugh a bit at few parts of the rather hilarious rom-com that played.

You sat up, grabbing the bowl of homemade caramel popcorn which was perfectly sticky. You reached your hand in, pulling out a small handful before a trail was left on your neck to your lips. It was pretty obvious especially since you wore a simple tank top with your favorite pair of shorts. You held your hair back with a headband which (ironically) was a Ground Zero one.

“You’re a messy eater, you know that?” He said as you smiled softly. “Whatever, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna change.” You said, standing up before a hand tugged you right onto his lap. You yelped softly, straddling him on the couch before feeling his tongue graze your skin. Your hands gripped his shirt as he grabbed your waist, holding you in place while he teased you with his tongue.

His lips soon pressed against yours while the sweet taste of caramel swirled together into your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance before he ultimately won. A soft moan slipped from your mouth when he broke the kiss, pinning you onto the couch before kissing you again, his body standing over you while he hovered over your body. He was in between your legs, his body pressing against yours while the burning feeling in your lungs became unbearable.

You broke the kiss only to earn a bite from him on your neck, biting at the fading hickeys that hadn’t left quite yet. You left out a moan before you heard a knock at the door. “B-Baby..” you tried to tell him before he responded with a growl. “Ignore it.”

“Bakubro! Open up, I know you’re home!” Kirishima yelled before ringing the doorbell, earning a annoyed grunt from Bakugo. “That Spiky haired bastard..” he said before pulling away. You sighed softly before he stood up. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Because you’re all mine tonight, Teddy Bear.”

#my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki #my hero academia scenarios #bnha shoto todoroki #i hope you like this #bnha todoroki #mha shouto todoroki #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki

372 notes · View notes

generouspeachheart · 3 years

Text

Jealousy is gunfire

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Summary: Spencer and reader are in a secret relationship. The team tries to get them to get over eachother. Spencer fucks up. Reader does too. They make up in the end. If there are anny grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know!

Category: Angst with a happy ending.

Warnings: Cursing.

Words: 2,821

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. No one in the them knew about it. They teased you relentlessly about your ‘crushes’ on each other, not knowing that one night, after a case, you invited Spencer over for a Dr. Who marathon, where he confessed to liking you more than a friend, and you kissed the living hell out of him. However, just like everything else in your lives, things were bound to get complicated.

“You think we should tell them?” Looking down on the rest of the team, while you and Spencer took off to the break room to refill your coffees, the question popped into your head. “I mean…..I don’t know. We’re colleagues after all, so….so maybe we-we shouldn’t.” Spencer pointed out. I know it’s the right thing to do but I don’t really want to keep it a secret from anyone. But it seems as though he does, so I’m not gonna push it. “Yeah, you’re right, I was thinking the same thing.”

I didn’t want to keep my relationship with Y/N a secret. I want to tell everyone. I want to shout if from the rooftops. That I finally got the girl of my dreams. I was hoping she would say no to my proposal. I was hoping she was gonna say that she wants everyone to know. Everyone was ‘shipping’ us anyway, so I didn’t see why we should keep it a secret. But she clearly wanted it kept a secret, so I wasn’t going to push it. “Alright then, I think we should go back to them.” “Yeah, let’s go.”

All that mess let us to this night. We had a night off, and planned on going out together, since we haven’t been out as a team for a long time. As much as both you and Spencer wanted to spend the night on your couch, watching a cheesy rom-com and eating junk food, it would look too suspicious, seeing as everybody else had agreed, so you both agreed to come with as well. First mistake.

“Alright so ill meet you all in front of ‘Jack Rose’ 8pm sharp?” “Yes, sir!” the team all said in unison. “Mind if I run late, beefcake?” “Depends on the reason, Pretty Lady. ” “I have to pick up a dress from my sisters house.” That was sort of a lie. The dress in question is a dress I actually left at Spencer’s place after our fourth date. It was a beautiful dark purple, backless dress Spencer loved on, and also off of, me, so I knew that was the one I had to wear. “Hmmm, I don’t know if I believe you, Boss Lady.” You really loved Morgan, but him snooping in your business was much more than you could handle tonight. “How do I know you’re not just gonna ditch us?” I sighed. “Pinky promise?” I ask, holding out my pinkie finger towards Morgan. “Alright then.” He said, after hooking his own pinky finger with mine. ”I’ll see you a bit later than 8pm, Pretty Lady.” “You got it, beefcake.”

As far as I know, Y/N hadn’t left a dress at her sisters. Maybe she was lying trying to get us out of all this. But then the pinky finger is not a promise Y/N’s known to break. Alright then.

Y/N felt a buzz coming from her phone as the team was saying their goodbyes.

~From: My Pretty Boy ♡

What are you up to?

As soon as the team split up, he got a text notification on his phone.

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

I’m planning to wear The Dress ™.

A smile overtook Spencer’s face.

~To: My Pretty Lady ♡

So, may I drive you home, m’lady?

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

Yes, sir. You may.

That’s what got us here. In this goddamn sweaty club where Morgan is trying to make me talk to some blonde he found sitting alone at the bar. “I’m telling you, Pretty Boy, you have to get over Y/N. If you’re not going to do anything about that little crush of yours, then you need to get busy.” He really loved Morgan, but him snooping in his business was much more than he could handle tonight. He noticed you dancing on the floor with Garcia and Emily and figured, to get Morgan off his case, he’s just going to go up to her, explain the situation, and if she could, politely, slap him and walk towards the lady’s room. “Fine, ill go talk to her.” As he went stood up to go bother this poor girl what he failed to notice is Y/N’s eyes scanning the bar trying to find him, to try and convince him to dance with her.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you have to get over Spencer. The only way to do so, is to get jiggy with that model that has been staring you down the entire time you’ve been dancing.” Emily could really be a push-over sometimes. “I’m not going to do that, Em. I don’t mind just dancing with you two.” “Oh, come on, Y/N, give yourself a bit of a break here. You have been thirsting over Wonder Boy long enough, I think its time.” Garcia can be a bit of a push-over too, at times. “You’re right. It’s been long enough, I’m going to go ask Spencer to dance with me!” You said, yelling over the loud music, ignoring the cheers coming from Garcia and Emily. As you scanned the room to find him, you noticed he’s not at the table with Morgan anymore. “I’m going to go get a bit of liquid courage, and then I’m gonna go find out where he is!” You yelled, separating from the ladies, heading for the bar. As the crowd cleared, you came to a halt. There he was. Flirting with a girl. At the bar. Her hand lightly touching his arm, whilst he threw his head backwards, laughing at something the blonde had said. First, he wanted to keep the two of you a secret, saying it’s for ‘the better for the team’, and now there he was, flirting with a random girl in a bar they were both in. She was so pretty and her hair was so flowy and she looked nothing like you. You saw red. ‘Both can play that game, Spencer’ you thought, heading back towards Emily and Garcia. “What happened, Y/N?” “You were right, Em. Spencer is just a waste of my time. Where’s that model you were talking about earlier?”

As the girl from the bar slapped him across the face, storming off to the bathroom, he thanked her as she walked past him. Going back to the table, he saw Morgan’s disappointed face staring at him. “What the hell happened?” “I don’t know. It was going well and then I guess I said something wrong, because she accused me of trying to take advantage of her, and well… you saw the rest.” “That’s a real shame, Pretty Boy. What are you gonna do know?” Spencer thought about it. What was he gonna do? He didn’t want any of this happening again, so he decided to go and find you on the dance floor and tell you he doesn’t want to keep your relationship as a secret anymore. “I’m going to go dance with Y/N!” “Oh, wow, way to go man.” He looked toward Morgan to thank him for the wishes, but saw his smile flatter. “What wrong?” “I think you may have missed your chance. Look.” He said, pointing towards the dance floor. First, he saw you, in that beautiful dress of yours. Then he saw the smile on your face. And then he saw your arms around some guy, and his arms dangerously close to the lower part of your back. He was a bit shorted than him, muscular and had light blond hair that fell just over his ears. He saw red. He knew it was sort of his idea to keep you a secret but he didn’t expect you to go out and dance with random men you found at a bar you were both in. He stood up angrily, and headed towards the dance floor.

Seeing his face twist with anger was not a sight you ever wanted to see. But you stood your ground. “Spencer, hey.” You tried to sound cheerful as if you just saw a childhood friend, not your pissed off boyfriend. You took your arms off the guy and before you could do anything with them, Spencer took your forearm, squeezing lightly. “Can we talk, Y/N?” spitting the words through his teeth. “What about?” you tried to sound innocent but the venom from your lip wrapped around the words getting out of them, and the fire in your eyes wasn’t easily dismissed. “Y/N, please.” You know it was supposed to be all insecure and sweet tricking you into feeling bad, but you weren’t backing down. “Sure, let’s get out of here.” You took the hand wrapped around your forearm, tearing it away, and pulling him towards the exit. As you entered the valley behind the bar, Spencer decided to finally talk.

“What the hell was that?” he spat. “What was what?” ”Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” he warned. She dared chuckle. “Oh, you mean that blond guy who I was dancing with?” she gestured towards the bar. “Oh, he was so nice.” She said, dismissing with her hand. “What the hell is this about?” “I should be asking the same thing, Spencer.” He never heard his name come out of your mouth like that. He was scared.

“What were you doing with that blonde hottie at the bar, huh, Spencer?!” you yelled. “What made you laugh so hard you forgot your girlfriend was in the room, huh!?” you yelled some more. “Y/N, that…. I wasn’t…” “Oh now cats got your tongue, huh, Spencer?” “No, I… I wasn’t flirting with her.” “What Is it you were doing then?!” you yelled again. “Morgan said I should go get her number to get over you, and I went over and told her about us and asked her to slap me?!” he screamed back. “What the fuck was so funny then?!” she screamed yet again. “She said you looked like a runway model, and I agreed!” “Oh, come on!” “Its true! You can ask Morgan if you like!”

He was tired of screaming. His voice cracked with the next words. “I would never flirt with someone else. Why would I ever want to? I have you. You’re more than enough for me. You are way out of my league and I’m lucky you even looked my way.” He saw the way your eyes fell after he said that. A silence took over the both of you. She lowered her arms. “I was dancing with that guy because Emily and Garcia told me to.” Spencer looked up at that. “I was actually about to find you and ask you to dance with me instead.” Fuck. “But then I saw you with that girl. And I got mad. Like, really mad.” Shit. “I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t….I don’t….” He sure felt like shit right now. He dropped his head and looked at his shoes. He then felt a pair of fingers on his chin.

You lifted his chin so he could look at you. “Its okay, Spence, you didn’t know.” His mouth seemed to perk up at the nickname. “I’m sorry for dancing with that guy. Its just…” you stopped for a second, contemplating whether you should confess this. Fuck it. “I know about your ‘preference to blonds’. And when I saw that girl and you, I just. I got insecure and jealous and I just….” You’re pretty sure he saw the tear that fell down your cheek, but you couldn’t care. “I’m sorry, I know green is a horrible color on me.” He wiped the tear off your cheek. “You look stunning in green. In any color, if I’m being honest. But there is no need to be jealous.” You looked up at him. Staring him right in the eyes. Those beautiful, soft eyes you often found yourself getting lost in. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. You hear me? I’m in love with you. And only you.”

“I’m in love with you too.” you confessed, after some silence. “I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” “I guess we're both sorry then.” You tried your hand at humor, but Spencer didn’t laugh. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “Were both at fault here, Spence, its ok….” “No, I’m at fault. I’m the one who brought up keeping us a secret and I shouldn’t have.” “Oh…” “I don’t want to keep you a secret. I just….” You brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. He leans into your palm. “I was just afraid you would be ashamed of being with me.” “Spencer.” A tear fell. “Spencer no! No. I’m not ashamed of you. I never was. Why would I be, Jesus Christ, have you seen yourself? Have you heard yourself?” Spencer then opened his eyes to look into yours. “You’re brilliant. You’re perfect for me. To me. And if I’m being honest?” Spencer nodded his head confirming he was ready to hear whatever is about to come out of your mouth. “You’re a fucking smoke show!”

I didn’t expect that. She caught me off guard. I let out a laugh. God, I love her. With every atom of my being. “Really?” He knows he shouldn’t have asked that. He felt the smack over his head before she even raised her hand. He squeezed his eyes inn anticipation. But instead, he felt both her hands on this jawline. Opening his eyes he saw the most truthful look he ever saw on a person. “Really, Spencer-nova. You’re the hottest piece of ass I ever fucking saw.” I would laugh if I wasn’t so lost in her eyes. I pulled he to me, laying my lips against her soft ones. With every kiss a new set of butterflies erupts from his stomach. Pulling away, he states. “Did you know that some butterfly species migrate from the cold? Although in many cases cold weather will end the already short life of a butterfly by rendering them immobile, others take the dropping temperature as a signal to move. Butterflies are cold-blooded and require, in ideal settings, a body temperature of approximately 85 degrees to activate their flight muscles. If the weather begins changing some species simply migrate in search of sunshine. Some, like the North American Monarch, travel an average of 2,500 miles.” She looked at me with the most love anyone has ever looked at him. “I did not know that. But I’m so fucking happy to know now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t oppose to the idea.” ”I’m sorry I ever said anything about keeping us a secret.” They were currently sitting on Y/N’s couch, after driving to her house from the bar, stripping their club clothes and putting on their favorite pj’s, watching Love, Actually. Okay Love, Actually played in the background as they kissed. A lot. And talked. Occasionally.

Suddenly your eyes widened. “Oh shit!” “What is it?” you could hear the panic in Spencer’s voice. “We didn’t tell them anything.” Spencer chuckled. “Oh, shit, indeed.” You both sprinted to their respective coats, pulling out their phones. You had 12 missed called from Garcia and 5 texts from Emily.

~From: Praying Mantis:

Y/N WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

DID SPENCER DO ANYTHING?

I SWEEAR TO GOD I WILL MURDER HIM. I’M NOT SCARED OF JAIL!

I just saw his car pulling away. I hope the two of you are okay.

ANWSER ME GODDAMN IT, IM WORRIED

~To: Praying Mantis:

Sorry, Em. We are both fine. We're together. We're fine. I'll fill you in on the deets later. Love you. ❤️

~To: Unicorn Goddess:

Srry, bb. Spence and I are finito. Spilling 🍵 ltr. Ly ❤️

~From: Praying Mantis:

Oh, thank God. Enjoy the silence now, Y/N, I’ve got a lot of questions for the two of you. Love you too. ❤️

~From: Unicorn Goddess:

Okay, bb. Hope ur having fun! 🍆 🍑 💦 Ttytmrw! Ly2 ❤️

You head a chuckle behind you. Turning your hear you saw Spencer talking on the phone. By the wolf whistles coming from Spences phone, you guessed he was talking to Morgan. “Say hi to beefcake for me!” you yelled, seeing Spences cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “I didn’t know she was with you, dude, oh my god why didn’t you say so? Okay, okay goodbye now, enjoy your night, Pretty Boy.” Morgan all but screamed into his phone. As Spencer hung up the phone, he looked over at you. “Situation defused?” he asked. “Situation defused.” You confirmed.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x you #criminal minds

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

incomparable

pairing | logan x mc

word count | 7.4k

warnings | there’s a lot of angst in this one, and it’s definitely an emotional hurt/comfort fic! if you don’t like the idea of logan trying to move on, then this one isn’t for you!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @dionneserrano, @blainehayes, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | a while ago, my sweet friend and fellow mod @/pixeljazzy suggested a fic plot that’s angsty and absolutely demonic, aka logan tries to move on, so i decided to write it! i’d been working on this before the mods decided to create the time capsule challenge, so i’m very content that this fits into the theme well !!! and to clarify, this is an au where my mc raquel writes down her experience with the mpc and ends up publishing it and unintentionally becomes a best selling author! also yes rodaw brought me out of my choices writing break and i’m not mad at it at all

•─────────────────•

She wasn’t Raquel.

That much was obvious – she was taller. Her shoulders were broader. Her hair was short, bluntly cut at her collarbones, and dark brown.

She was tattoo free. The skin of her arm was bare – a clean slate. Untouched.

She seemed more innocent, too. Not in the way that Raquel was when they first met.

This woman was grown with a full time job and a comfy apartment in the heart of the city, but… there was something missing.

She probably had no clue that there was a seedy underbelly to her home. Didn’t have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like him when he was at his worst.

She was privileged enough to go about her life while a whole microcosm of crime happened right under her nose. And she didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know.

Logan wasn’t exactly jazzed to shatter another woman’s innocence the way he did with Raquel.

This girl seemed… safe. Level headed, secure, and millions of miles away from the life he’d abandoned.

It kind of happened by accident. Meeting her, that is.

It wasn’t a carefully crafted “accident” like with Raquel. She actually just… caught his eye.

He’d gotten an honest job as a mechanic on the outskirts of L.A., working mostly with the struggling working class that had long been banished to the dingiest corners, despite being the most important cogs in the city’s machine.

The autoshop was family owned, and had been for generations – the owner, Nicandro, had accepted Logan as his own, and Logan had practically become a part of the Alvarez family.

He hadn’t anticipated finding his own home in the same city that’d chewed him up and spat him out time and time again.

A couple months into working there, he was finally settling into his routine. Nine-to-five job on weekdays, community college classes on weekends, and the occasional Saturday mass when he was invited by the Alvarezes.

He was functioning. He had a routine. And then this girl came in and disrupted it all.

The Honda Civic girl.

When the average looking car pulled up outside, he didn’t give it a second glance.

He went back to work, arms deep in the engine, grimy and stained from repairing Miss Anita’s ancient artifact she insisted on saving even though it was less than a thousand miles away from crumbling cartoon-style till only the wheels were left.

(But she was family to the Alvarezes, so Nicandro insisted on repairing the car for free nearly every week when she needed something new tweaked.)

He heard her voice from across the room and still didn’t look up from his hands.

“Hi, this is embarrassing, but my engine light thingy came on and I have no clue what it means,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m on my way out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I’d stop and get it checked out before you closed for the night.”

“Aye, Lo, can you help her out real quick? We’ve gotta truck coming in with parts soon and I gotta keep watch,” Nicandro called across the garage, shooting Logan a toothy grin as soon as he looked up.

“Sure,” Logan smiled politely, scrubbing his forearm over his brow, the sweat managing to hold a couple strands of his hair captive against his skin.

He was assuming it’d be a typical oil change, but the second she came into view, the ghost of the last time he left L.A. gripped his heart and squeezed until adrenaline shot through every vein in his body.

Her t-shirt, tucked neatly into her denim shorts, read “Langston”.

It wasn’t the sweatshirt, but it was the same design, same color.

He knew staying in L.A. was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it. Staying away from Raquel was priority for her safety, but… he couldn’t bury the inkling of hope that pushed its way to the surface when he walked into a coffee shop or a bookstore – places he knew she’d love.

Once he saw the shirt and her big brown eyes, he was done for.

She wasn’t Raquel, but something about her lived in this stranger.

Before he could stop himself, he was comparing her to his first love – a disaster waiting to happen.

Their first date was anything but – she insisted on bringing him a vanilla milkshake from his favorite burger place to his work.

“How’d you know I was working?” He asked earnestly, mirroring her soft smile.

“I didn’t. Nicandro told me vanilla milkshakes were your favorite and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so…” she shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve, uh, brought milkshakes up here every day this weekend.”

He laughed – a real genuine surprised laugh – and took a sip from the styrofoam cup. “You didn’t let them go to waste, did you?”

“Nah, Nicandro’s been really happy with me.”

“Yum,” he hummed. “I’m happy with you, too.”

She grinned in delight, taking a sip from hers. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”

She stayed there for his whole lunch break, and they chatted, casual conversation with no substance, and he actually enjoyed himself.

The last time he remembered having casual conversations about nothing with a girl his age, he was curled underneath the sheets with Raquel, tracing the outlines of her sleeve of tattoos. He could’ve listened to her talk for hours.

This girl… she was pretty tolerable – she listened to him (hung on every word, even) and cared about what he had to say, even though it was a laid back, low stakes conversation.

“My name’s Renée, you know. I realized I haven’t told you,” she smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. She was facing him, and they were seated on the same side of the old wooden table out back behind the garage.

“Renée,” he repeated, shaking the styrofoam cup to gather the last bit of milkshake at the bottom before tipping it back to lap it up. “I’m Logan.”

“Logan,” she nodded. “It suits you.”

“S’not my real name,” he shrugged.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that. If he told her too much, it’d end the same.

She tipped her own cup back, tapping the bottom to get little stray ice chunks out. “Fine by me. I still think it suits you.”

She was way too trustworthy of a man she didn’t know, but… wasn’t that what attracted him to Raquel in the first place?

Without a shred of judgement in her eyes, Raquel took everything Logan said as the truth, despite how many times he’d fucked up. Betrayed her.

Renée didn’t look at him like he was a criminal and… well… he wasn’t one anymore. He was still in the criminal mindset, though, since he’d been ostracized for so damn long.

The next couple weeks were uncomfortable – not because Renée made him uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything, she was doing the opposite, and that was the problem.

He’d had to reopen himself to caring about another woman, and to say it was a difficult task was an understatement. The gates were stubborn, rusted shut, so much so that he had to force them apart, ignoring the grating screech of metal and the inevitable pain that came with being vulnerable again.

They went on a few dinner dates. She brought him lunch at work. She invited him to her apartment. They went to a food truck festival together.

Renée disrupted his routine, and it was a breath of fresh air.

He’d gotten so comfortable with his quaint life and his work family that he hadn’t pushed himself to do much more than that.

But the first time she held his hand, he froze.

She casually grabbed his hand to lead him through a crowd and his body reacted like he’d been electrocuted. It wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, wiping his clammy palm against his jeans before letting her grab his hand again.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was wrong.

He should’ve ended it that moment, but he didn’t. He’d convinced himself that if he could push through the initial weirdness of it all, he’d be happy. Eventually.

So he went through the motions with her, trying his hardest to push his comparisons of her to Raquel to the back of his mind, but every so often it’d bubble to the surface.

It’d manifest in the most random ways.

She liked Coke icees, not cherry.

Oh we watched that rom-com together, and she hated it because it was too corny.

She likes that TV show as background noise because she thinks it’s dumb, and I do, too.

It was unhealthy to think of Raquel that much – to compare Renée to her that much – but he couldn’t help it.

The last time he was happy, safe, loved, was with Raquel. He hadn’t chased that feeling for a long time (because he wasn’t sure he could find it again), but with Renée he was getting closer to what he used to have.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted that warmth – that comfort – again.

She wasn’t Raquel, but she’d have to do.

A month into their casual dating, Renée kissed him. Well, she tried.

She’d insisted on driving him to a boujee rooftop bar near her place and was thoroughly buzzed off a couple of cosmopolitans less than an hour into them being there.

The party was in full swing around them, the corny ass cover band on their fourth “tribute” to Billy Joel.

He was out of his element to say the least.

Just as he was about to lean over to tell her he needed to use the bathroom, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her mouth against his, planting sloppy, sugary, open mouthed kisses on his parted lips, frozen in shock.

“Logan,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter, not even registering how tense he was.

“Renée… hey, hey,” he said, gently but firmly pulling her away from him. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Her big brown eyes welled up with tears and his chest twinged with guilt, the distant memory of the first time he’d betrayed Raquel floating around the back of his brain.

“I’m sorry I – I don’t know what came over me –” she turned away from him, dabbing her eyes with the crook of her finger.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” he reassured her, rubbing his palm in small circles on her back. “We’re good.”

“I wanted our first kiss to be special and I royally screwed that up,” she sighed, swivelling back till she was facing him again.

“Can’t do worse than me.”

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh yeah?”

“I was a girl’s first kiss… five minutes after we’d outrun the cops.”

Her laugh was a surprised one, her bright smile replacing her disappointed expression almost immediately.

“That’s surprising. I never pegged you as a law breaking type,” she blinked, the alcohol clearly making her a bit more ballsy than she normally was.

It was his turn to laugh – he doubled over, nearly knocking over her half empty glass in the process.

“I used to be quite a troublemaker.”

Despite her not-so-subtle hints over the next few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

She probably thought he was the prudiest of the prudes, the local catholic church’s golden boy, the working man’s poster child of abstinence till marriage.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet.

He was wearing himself down more and more each day – he was on the track to kiss her in… a couple months to a year. Probably.

Two months in, she invited him to a swanky event her job was hosting.

She was one of many accountants working in the financial department for a large publishing company. She had a really cool gig, and she knew it. She never bragged, but she was proud of her accomplishments.

So why was she dating a mechanic who was making a third of her income? He had no idea.

Either way, he tried to enjoy himself. The car that picked them up was luxurious, and that and the food and booze reflected just how much money their company had made that year.

The venue was huge and packed to the brim with hundreds of people, the standing tables a couple feet apart all throughout the ballroom.

“Damn, they weren’t playing around with this, huh?” He mused, taking a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with locally brewed beer.

“Yep, they’re serious about giving a warm welcome to new authors,” Renée said over the rim of her drink, gesturing vaguely to the room around them.

“Yeah, so is that what they’re doing?”

“Mhmm. Every year we hold a big party to celebrate our deals for that year. It’s really just to pat ourselves on the back and give our new authors a sense of comfort here, you know?”

“Can I get a booklist or something? I might wanna check out some of these books afterwards. I feel guilty as hell eating duck, drinking their expensive ass alcohol, and rolling back home without, ya know, doing anything,” he shrugged, the fabric of his hand me down suit straining with effort at the motion.

“One of the authors insisted on not being included in any of the party promos so… she kinda ruined it for everybody. But she’s our number one best seller for this year, so…” she rolled her eyes, tipping back the last of her cosmo.

“And don’t worry about it. We budgeted for this and we’re good,” Renée nodded, giving Logan’s hand a squeeze over the table.

“So what’s the itinerary for the night?” Logan asked, rolling his mug around by its base, the beer swirling around the edges, just barely kissing the rim, but not quite overflowing.

It was stupid to relate to a fucking mug of beer, but he did.

Anytime he pushed himself to his limit with Renée, he retreated, never breaking past that threshold, that barrier he set in place for himself long before he’d ever met her.

“The President is gonna give some speech – he’s that guy right there –” she said, scooting around the table till her arm was pressed against the sleeve of his jacket, “Then the Vice President – that woman – is gonna introduce the guests of honor, and they’ll give introductions. Then a brief presentation from my boss about how much money we raked in this year, then… yep. We can leave.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me, Lo. I really appreciate it.”

Before he could register what was happening, she’d tipped his chin towards her, pressing a tender, gracious kiss on his lips.

She pulled back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

He mirrored her smile, but inside he was screaming.

He felt nothing. The kiss elicited absolutely nothing from him.

She kissed him and it felt like he was kissing a friend. Completely platonic.

He’d sunk months into getting comfortable with her just for it to blow up in his face. The second he’d let his guard down so things could progress naturally, it backfired.

He’d taken Raquel for granted. Being with her was so effortless that he didn’t have to think about it, and he let that slip away without trying to get her back.

He thought he was doing the right thing by her, but it was hurting him more than he’d ever anticipated.

It wasn’t that he considered her another notch in the bedpost. It was the opposite – the bedpost didn’t exist anymore.

There was only her. No one else. No matter how many times he tried to remedy his broken heart, it’d just bring him right back to her: the only woman that ever had the privilege of making herself a home there.

“I, uh, need to go to the restroom. Excuse me,” he said, jabbing his thumbs toward the double doors, heading outside before she had a chance to respond.

He pushed his way out of the room, his heart in time with the slap of his shoes against the flooring.

As soon as he was out of the doors, he kept walking, striding past the laggards mingling in the hallway, past the bathrooms, past the security, till he felt the dirty L.A. air coat his lungs.

God, if he could only catch his breath maybe he could go back in there and salvage the night. Maybe even make himself look less like a skittish idiot.

Despite the fact that his brain was wired to unintentionally treat her like a friend, he didn’t want to hurt this girl.

He didn’t smoke often – just a taste of nicotine when he was drunk or the occasional cigarette when he was stressed.

There was a crumpled pack in his glove box that’d been there for months.

Why didn’t he just drive? He was fucking stranded. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t put distance between him and this situation that he’d willingly put himself in.

None of this was Renée’s fault. There wasn’t a single aspect of the situation that was her fault.

She was a girl who wanted to date a boy because of reciprocated interest.

He felt like the biggest loser in the world. Here she was, a beautiful girl with a lust for life and ambitions that dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined for himself.

And all she wanted to do was love him.

And he wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t let her.

His back slid against the brick wall until he was squatting, arms braced against his knees while he tried to gulp down fresh air as fast as the wind whipped at him.

He’d managed to find the one corner of the building that was completely unoccupied. For once, he was thankful for his gut instinct to lurk in the shadows.

He’d barely gotten a minute of solitude before the door closest to him flew open, a blur of tulle streaking across his peripheral.

The person’s breaths were labored, panicked, as they ran the opposite direction until they were at the edge of the pavement.

They bent down, just like he had, and clasped both hands over their mouth, letting out a small muffled scream.

When she was finished with that, she tilted her chin upwards, her skin illuminated by the light from the parking lot that spilled onto their side of the building.

If he thought breathing was difficult before, it got a whole lot worse when she noticed he was there.

She jumped, yelping like a wounded animal before stumbling back, catching herself with her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know anyone was here – I’m sorry –”

Pushing herself back up to stand, she brushed her palms off and shook the tulle skirt clean. “I’m just a little stressed. Sorry again for the outburst.”

That can’t be her. There’s no way, he thought, his mouth drying out when he got a clear view of her face.

“Raquel?” He asked, timidly, voice cracking on the first syllable.

She froze, searching the shadows, her hands white knuckling her skirt.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been quiet when he pushed himself to his full height and took a step towards her.

“No, no, no, there’s no way,” she whispered, stumbling backwards, catching herself on the brick wall.

“It’s – uh, it’s me –” he said, laying his palm flat against his chest. “It’s Logan.”

His voice trembled, the effort of speaking (despite nearly being rendered speechless) was more than he could handle – it was as if he had to manually pick up his words like stones and drop them, and they were heavy, and he was weak.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She didn’t respond.

“I… uh, what are you doing here?” He asked finally, forcing the question past his lips.

If he didn’t say something he’d be drinking her in all night. It’d been a couple years, but she looked exactly the same.

Yeah, her hair was mid-length, the ombre traded for a black tone, and she’d gotten a few more tattoos that he could see, but she was the same old Raquel.

Same old Raquel, but professionally styled. He wasn’t self conscious of his hand-me-down suit until he noticed how polished she looked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she breathed, a strained tone followed by a struggled breath.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about Renée.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a fucking fish out of water. There was no way to beat around it.

“I’m a plus one.”

Her perfectly gelled brows furrowed, and his gut clenched at the motion.

He was scared as hell, but damn did she look exactly like she did when she was hunched over a textbook, scrawling notes as quick as her brain summarized the words on the page.

“You didn’t… deliberately come here to see me?” She asked, searching his face for something (the truth, probably).

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, an inch or so shorter than she’d last seen it.

Why’d he have to run into her after he’d gotten a trim? He’d imagined this moment going so many different ways, and every scenario he’d pictured them looking like they did the moment they parted – if he had it his way, every detail would be exactly the same as the day he disappeared into the night, from his head down to his shoes.

“I, uh… No, I didn’t,” he stammered, taking another step her way, and that time she didn’t move back.

Shaking her head, she watched him, expression incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just because I didn’t come here for you doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he said, reaching out towards her.

He thought she’d flinch away, but she stayed planted in place, her eyelids fluttering shut when he stroked the pad of his thumb against her jaw, revelling in how soft her skin was. Just like he remembered.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head just enough till she could kiss his palm, leaving a streak of lipgloss on his calloused skin. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is, baby,” he reassured her, before testing her even further by tugging her into a hug. “This isn’t a dream, but it sure feels like one.”

She ran her hands across his back, like she was refamiliarizing herself with his frame, before squeezing him tight, her arms shaking with effort. “You smell exactly the same.”

He laughed, burying his nose into her crown, pressing a kiss there. “You do, too. Like lavender’n’heaven.”

Raquel was in front of him, just as warm and pretty as she was the last time he’d seen her. She even felt the same in his arms, molding to his shape like no time had passed.

Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he took advantage of his momentary courage by tipping her chin upward to get a good look at her.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

Nothing else mattered to him anymore. His mechanic job, his car, his friendships, his home in L.A. –

He’d made a home in those dark brown eyes, and he was willing to drop everything and follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant he’d be back in the one home he’d ever known.

She blinked away a few tears, her bottom lip trembling, dimpling her chin.

He cupped her face between his palms, cradling her face as gently as he would with something breakable, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.

He could’ve held her like that and re-committed every inch of her face to memory, but she broke first, closing the gap by pressing her lips against his and Christ did she taste sweet.

Their mouths, arms, bodies, slotted together perfectly, not an inch of space between them.

Just as he parted his lips for her, she stiffened, retreating from him immediately.

“You taste like cherry. I hate cherry.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “You hate cherry.”

He went rigid, the details from a few minutes before flooding back to him. Renée was wearing cherry gloss.

“Oh my god… you’re here with someone?” She asked, but she said it with such conviction, because she knew it was true, and she was begging for it not to be.

His mouth popped open and shut again. “I’m sorry –” “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve moved on and that’s okay. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was trembling with each word – the stones were heavy, and she was struggling, and he could tell.

“No, Raquel, it’s not like that. I promise –”

“Please don’t make me any promises, Lo. I don’t know if my heart can take it,” she said, palms up in surrender.

And she said his nickname. It sounded wrong coming from anyone but her.

“I’m serious, baby, I didn’t think I’d see you again, especially at a schmooze fest like this.”

She blinked, once, twice, processing what he’d said. “So… not only did you insult me by showing up with another woman, but you’re insulting this event that I’ve worked so hard to attend, and you’re insulting me.”

“Raquel… I never meant it that way, I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I stayed in L.A. in case I ever saw you again, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon, and I dreamed up lots of scenarios but none of them went like this. I fucked it up majorly and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t fucking know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, her arms folded across her chest while she mulled over his words. “I never tried moving on.”

It hit him like a gut punch, grabbing his organs and twisting till pain shot throughout his body. “You didn’t?” Was all he could manage.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s no way I could when I’m still in love with you.”

She screwed her eyes shut, a sob leaving her before she could contain it.

“Raquel, please believe me –” Logan pleaded, stepping towards her. “If I woulda known you were gonna be here, trust me, I’d be dressed better and you’d be my date and I’d be showing you off to the world –”

Her watch buzzed, startling the both of them. “I… have to go. We can talk after, if you want.”

“Yes, please. That’s all I want,” he laced his fingers with hers, gently tugging her hand towards his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll find you after. I promise.”

Giving him one last once over, drinking him in, like she was second guessing if he was real, she stepped back through the doors.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before heading in – explaining his outburst to Renée hadn’t crossed his mind till he walked back inside.

He made his way back to the table, running over how he was going to apologize, but nothing stuck. He couldn’t think of anything but Raquel.

Renée was sipping on her second drink of the night, and his beer looked like it’d been dipped into as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that I just – I just thought you were comfortable enough. I screwed up again, Lo, and I’m so sorry.”

“Renée…” He couldn’t get over how unnatural “Lo” sounded coming from her. “The way I’ve been acting has nothing to do with you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” she laughed once, rolling her eyes. They widened as soon as it dawned on her. “Wait… are you?”

“Can we talk outside? I really want you to hear me out –” “Logan, if you’re gonna dump me, at least respect me enough to not do it in the parking lot,” she sighed, chugging the rest of her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, sliding his half empty mug of beer her way. “I do respect you, though. A lot. You’re an amazing person.”

Sighing, she tipped back the beer, gulping until he could see her eyes through the transparent bottom of the glass. “I’ve definitely heard this spiel before.”

“I’m gonna tell you this story, and you’re probably not gonna believe it, but it’s true, and it was my life – it is my life,” he started, leaning against the table so she could hear his low tone.

“Years ago, I met the woman of my dreams, and she was innocent and way too fucking good for me. I was breaking the law daily by doing jobs with crews of criminals like me, living off the grid, making money in ways I’m not too proud of.

“She was a part of one of my last jobs before I left L.A. to lay low and I, uh, I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her. I don’t know what my life would look like if I wasn’t in love with her, you know?”

Her face screwed up in disgust, and she all but slammed the mug down, whispering furiously. “Are you mocking me? Did you seriously just regurgitate the plot of Ride or Die to me? That’s the story you’re going with? One that isn’t even your own?”

“Huh, what? What are you –”

The speakers crackled and a mic squeaked as who Logan assumed to be President tapped the surface of it, cutting off his response.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a wonderful night so far. As most of you may know, my name is Arnie Harris, and I’m the President of Harris Publishing. When my grandfather founded Harris Publishing back in 1901, he only did so because he wanted to be able to publish a few of his wife’s poems as a gift. Publishers refused to register it under her name, so he made his own company so my grandma could achieve her dream of being a published author, and throughout the years, we’ve been committed to giving voices to women and minorities alike.

“This year’s been one of our best yet, and I’m so thankful to our new authors for seeing something in us and our mission statement. A big thank you to everyone here tonight – Editing, Marketing, Finance, all the staff and employees, hell, the caterers here tonight, valets, everyone. Tonight wouldn’t be possible without you.”

He droned on for a bit longer before the Vice President took the stage, and she began introducing the newest authors that they’d signed that year.

They’d copped quite a few best sellers, which was impressive. Each author took the stage briefly to thank Harris Publishing and give a brief summary of their goals for the next few years.

Renée was ignoring him at that point, refusing to even look his way. He’d be more upset about that if he wasn’t scanning every inch of the room for Raquel, trying desperately to spot the rose colored tulle and midnight hair in the crowd.

“– and the last author of the night, the number one young adult New York Times’ Best Seller for five months and counting, Raquel Olvera with Ride or Die!”

His head snapped towards the stage, his eyes wide. “What the fuck –”

“Renée, she… who…”

“She’s our top seller. The one I said didn’t wanna be in the promos?” She answered flatly, still staring straight ahead.

“Renée, that’s – that’s her, that’s the girl I’m in love with –”

“Oh, please –” She stopped when she saw how genuinely caught off guard he was. “Oh my god, you’re not lying.”

“No, that’s her – I didn’t think – I ran into her outside and she said we’d talk later, but I – I didn’t think she was coming back inside for this –”

“You’re who she wrote about,” Renée whispered, her eyes as wide as Logan’s were, words beginning to slur just a bit. “Holy shit, I just thought the names were a coincidence, but no, you’re him.”

“What… huh?”

“Oh, Logan…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ride or Die is about you, your old crew, and how she fell in love with you.”

His heart sank. “About me?”

She nodded. “She changed most of the names but kept some, including yours. The ending… you really had to leave L.A. to flee the cops?”

He nodded. “The feds were on our tails.”

“My god… she’s so in love with you. You have to go to her,” Renée shook her head, her hair swaying around her. “No hard feelings at all. You can’t let her go – I’m serious.”

She’d taken the stage, and had begun thanking people while Logan and Renée whispered furiously at each other. By the time they looked up, she was beginning her speech.

“I never really set out to become a writer. Even though I’m a published author, I don’t really feel like one. Every time I step back to assess the response I’ve gotten to ‘Ride or Die’, I’m rendered speechless without fail. I just wanted an outlet to get my story out, and surprisingly – thankfully – the lovely staff of Harris Publishing decided to take a chance on me. I never thought this level of success was possible, and I’m so grateful for everyone here.”

She held for applause, smiling as though she was grateful for each clap.

“But beneath the positivity and praise I’ve received, I’m still healing. I’m still hurting. Most people know that ‘Ride or Die’ is somewhat of a true story. And yes, I know there’ve been discussions on whether this is a fake autobiography and that I wrote this for attention. Honestly, for the first year after they left, I wished that it was fake, because I was in a lot of pain. Emotionally, I was in shambles.

“I’ve loved telling my story as a form of therapy, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. The love of my life vanished into the night and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. No closure, no healing, no moving on.

“Stagnancy’s been the norm for me for so long that I forgot what life was like when I was smiling every day. I’m still getting used to happiness being an everyday feeling for me.”

Raquel shook her head, taking a deep breath and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. The audience took this cue to clap again, encouraging her to continue.

Logan watched the monitor on the wall, which zoomed into her face, catching her dazzling brown eyes. He was in awe. She was tough as nails with a heart of gold and he still didn’t deserve her.

“I thought that a life without love was bleak, and that I was doomed to suffer because I didn’t know if I’d ever see Logan again.”

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve realized that I’m surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. By those who love my story, who resonate with my story, and who want or already have a Logan of their own. I get to experience love every day through that affirmation, and I took it for granted till… well, tonight, honestly.

“The end of the story wasn’t really the end of the story for me. I thought that ‘Ride or Die’ was the first and final book, and I’ve been terrified for a while that by the time the hype for this book died down, so would my hope, and I’d have to move on… but like I’ve said, the closure I’ve craved is in everyone that carries my story with them. You’re all healing me by making me feel seen and heard and loved.

“This might be a lot for a speech at a fancy event at the publishing company that signed me, but through all of you who’ve made this possible, I feel like the version of me from years ago when I hopped in a sports car with a stranger who later turned out to be the love of my life.

“The adrenaline, the lust for life, feeling alive – I owe it all to you. Thank you.”

The cheers were raucous by the time she stepped off stage.

Logan’s throat was tight – she still loved him no matter how much it hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ, he would never deserve her.

Renée was sniffling next to him, hand over her mouth. “Logan, you seriously need to go to her. You can’t let her get away again.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. You really do deserve so much better than me.”

She grinned and patted his cheek lightly. “You’ve never been more right.”

He turned, darting towards the doors, shoving past anyone and everyone to get outside.

When he made it out of the doors, he ran smack into Raquel.

Thankfully, the only people outside of the room were the security guards, who’s attention was focused on the front door.

Raquel pulled him down the hallway and stopped at the last door on the left, a sign with her name on it taped to the outside of the door.

She fumbled with the keycard, her hands trembling.

“Shit –” she cursed, the card tumbling from her hands and onto the tile floor.

He snatched it off the ground and scanned it in one swoop. Within seconds, she’d shoved the door open and slammed it behind them.

His heart was racing. The last time she’d been this hasty was their final kiss, and he couldn’t fathom going through that again.

She stood in front of him, his back to the door, her gaze trained on his chest.

From his height he can see that her face is contorted, but she buries her face in her hands before he can get a good look.

“She looks just like me.” Her voice was a mere whisper, like she couldn’t manage anything more than that.

His heart sank to his feet. “Raquel –” “You say you didn’t know I was going to be here, but then why’d you date someone that works at the same company my book’s being published at?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” he started, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. “Especially knowing how hard it’s been for you, I –”

He broke his sentence off, cursing himself. “Shit, I didn’t know you were having just as hard a time as me. I figured you’d go to college and meet someone better than me. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just say you expected me to move on because you clearly haven’t. What, is her name Rachel or something?” She pulled back, putting a step of space between them.

He shook his head. “Renée.”

“It even starts with the same letter,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “You thought I’d move on so you started dating the first person that reminded you of me?”

“I – I’m –” He stuttered, dumbfounded that she’d gotten it in one try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I want you to understand why I’m upset, Lo. You came back to L.A. because you thought there was a possibility that you’d see me again, but you ‘figured I’d move on’. You’re seeing a girl that looks like she could be related to me, yet you’re avoiding discussing that. “I’m mad because while I’ve been trying to heal, you’ve been making yourself suffer, and that’s not fair to Renée. You had no idea if you were gonna see me again so you tried to get the next best thing. You have to see why that’s fucked up, Lo.”

“Even if I was dating Renée because she reminded me of you, none of that matters now.”

“You can’t just dump Renée because you took one look at the girl you dated for a month years ago and decided you wanted her instead –”

“Stop. Don’t try to downplay your role in my life, Raquel. You’re not ‘just the girl I dated’, alright? I loved you then and I love you now.”

“You can’t love me and string her along at the same time, Logan,” she furiously whispered, her voice nearing hysterics.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Did… you think I was coming here to show you that I’d moved on? And wanted to rub it in your face?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, her dark brown eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

“Renée ended things first. Just now, actually. The minute she realized that I’m the Logan from your book, she told me I needed to go to you,” he reassured her, reaching out to tip her chin up with a crooked finger, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Raquel, I had no fucking clue you’d written about us and the old crew. All these years, I’ve always known how much I love you but… goddamn, I didn’t know you loved me the way I loved you.”

Her eyes glistened, her surprised laugh coming out as a soft sob.

“So… you really do love me? It wasn’t just circumstance?” She asked, leaning into his palm when he slid his hand up to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how we felt back then, baby. None of that matters now because we fell for each other while we were apart,” he smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips.

“God, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder, more confident this time. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as long as you say it back.”

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation, tangling his fingers through her hair and pulling her in again.

The only time they came up for air was to whisper sweet affirmations against each other’s skin before delving back into silently relearning what they could about each other.

Logan had never been the best with words, and he was at peace with that. He knew that when it mattered, he’d show it. And in the dim lighting of Raquel’s green room, he showed her over and over just how much she meant to him.

Kiss by kiss, they adhered themselves to each other, undoubtedly deciding they’d never let each other go again.

She wasn’t Raquel. That much was obvious. She’d grown into much more than the timid girl he’d met on her 18th birthday, and even more than the headstrong driver he’d left behind.

And he loved her this way and that way – any way he could get her. His love for every version of her was boundless, incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

#playchoices #choices rod #rod logan #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #jade writes choices fics

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

Text

And they were roommates...

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - The cliché rom coms (Y/N) had seen are coming true and she is quite happy about that. (Roommates and Fake dating AU)

Warning - None that I know of.

So, this is my first post on Tumblr and I am quite nervous about this but here we go and welcome feedbacks with open arms.

The moment I knew I got into London's most amazing University, excited was the least of what I felt, perhaps we could say that an overwhelming urge to...throw up, do you call that nervousness? But whatever that's what I felt along with a series of happiness and sadness.

So, on a prosperous Monday, I went to the Uni to get my admission number and all the important things and it turns out that we share dorms without any restrictions of age or gender…

As a random kid was assigned to give me a tour of the inside of the building I would spend the next few years of my life in another kid roughly collided against my shoulder making me drop my things to the floor. To add to his already rude behaviour he hadn't said a sorry either.

"Oi, Mister!" I called, and the boy spun around, spots of mud in his clothes, his brown hair wild and messy, his grey eyes sparkling and a grin on his face.

"Oh, sorry," he said, picking up my tag and the documents that fell and ran away without a word.

Finally, the kid who toured me came to a stop in front of my dorm. She giggled, handing me the keys and left smirking.

I shrugged and ignored her weird behaviour and entered my dorm. The sight I saw there wasn't pleasant, it looked as though someone was already there, their luggage was there on the floor (which I found after tripping on it), dirty shoes laying on the neat carpet and muddy jacket sprawled over the couch.

"What the hell...?" I muttered as I entered the room to find a couch in the middle of the room by the kitchen island with two rooms on the opposite end. And I could hear a shower running in one of those, curious to know what is happening I sauntered to the room and as soon as I entered, a whiff of men's cologne washed over me.

My eyes widened in surprise, I look around finding a photo, wanting to take a closer look I move in and my eyes further widened seeing the person in the frame so similar to the one I had collided into this morning

I glanced down looking at the name - Cedric Diggory.

"Well isn't it quite a mistake looking around a stranger's room?'' A voice was heard from behind me.

Alarmed I whipped around to see the owner of the voice, standing there with just his joggers and bare chest, drying his hair using a towel with a smirk on his face. After I regained my composure, "Nah, not if that person is going to be your roommate for another approx. 5 years..."

"What!?" He exclaimed, "You! My roommate!?! There's got to be some mistake,"

I glared at him before keeping the photo frame back in its place and turned to him with the same glare "Well, sorry, Diggory. There is nothing you can do other than dealing with it." I left the room and arranged my things in the other room which I considered mine.

After that incident, there were mild fights here and there until we finally came to a deal of trying to adapt to each other and boy! That went amazing! He was so calm, quiet, amazing and I felt so at home that I didn't miss my family as much as I did at the start.

One month passed, and we were attached to the hip, there was a great rapport between the two of us, giving nicknames, making fun of each other, being a shoulder to cry on for the other, getting take-outs together, watching movies on Saturday and it was a blast! Until, one day there were the three knocks on the door, the secret knock of ours. I went and opened the door to find Cedric, his eyes wide and his face having a really pained expression along with two women next to him.

One old, forced smile on her face, looking at me in slight disappointment, the other one not older than us glaring at me, her arms crossed before her.

I glanced at Cedric as he came in, wrapping an around my waist - Now, look this wasn't any situation that was out of the ordinary, we were rather close friends whose hugs lasted longer, who had loads of cheek and forehead kisses, long cuddling sessions and flirted mindlessly, and it would be a mistake if I hadn't tend to develop feelings for the boy.

"Come in, mom," he said, beckoning both the females in, "Take a seat." He said pointing at the couch in the middle of the living room and urging me inside the kitchen.

"What the hell, Diggory!?" I hissed.

"We have got a problem," he said, panicking, pulling me closer to him.

"You tell me the problem and then I will say if it's yours or ours,"

He rolled his eyes before glancing back at his mother and the girl who was staring at us shamelessly. Noticing this Cedric pulled me in front of him so that my back was pressed against the counter and he was hovering above me, covering me from the view of the two.

"So that's my mother," he said in a hushed voice.

"No shit sherlock," I said, glaring at him.

Ignoring me he continued, "the girl, that's my like third cousin once removed or something of that sorts, I forgot. She had come to my office this morning and you know did her usual flirting and then mum was there too and they started asking why I am not dating her and I can't say she is a bitch that why so I told her I am having a girlfriend!"

"You are?" I asked feeling a pang of jealousy in my heart for that anonymous girl.

"Yes, and that's you," he blurted, his eyes wide and looking at me curiously.

"What!?!" I yelled.

"Shh shh shh" he gushed, slapping his hand against my mouth, "I am sorry I could think of anything else!"

I pried his hand away, "You could have said your gay!"

"I know like I said I couldn't think of any"

After loads of "please"s and sad seal eyes (I dunno how he managed that!) I gave in.

The act was building up well with slight hurdles caused by the girl and her mother. And the whole "fake dating" thing had just added fuel to the burning crush. Cedric's sweet gestures, whispers, and almost everything he did in usual seemed to have a different light to it.

On Saturday, our usual movie night was going superb, with popcorn and ships, watching a movie and spiked up the whole situation.

"He is amazing!" I had exclaimed unknowingly.

Cedric pouted, "He is not as much as me,"

Scrunching my eyebrows, "Well, Diggory, he technically is,"

Cedric rolled his eyes, "whatever I am going to sleep,"

I smirked, moving closer to him, placing my chin on his shoulder and looking at him, "Are you jealous of an actor?"

He rolled his eyes looking away, "Nah, why would I be?"

Feeling confident by the way Cedric was reacting, I said, "I dunno, you tell me,"

He looked back at me, his eyes turning a darker shade of grey and moved closer to me, an arm around my waist, another one on the edge of the couch holding him upright.

He was now hovering straight above me, his knee near my thigh, his face dangerously close to mine, "Cause I am in love with you," he whispered before smashing his lips against mine.

My eyes were wide before it started to flutter shut in our bliss. I have never kissed before so the kiss was anything but perfect, yet we loved, we poured passion and unsaid emotions into the kiss showing what we need, what we mean to the other.

My fingers rode up into his hair tugging when I felt him deepening the kiss. By the time the kiss ended, I was bound in his arms and he crouched before me.

"Well," I gulped, still breathless from this kiss, "I love you too roommate,"

He was positively beaming up at me. And I never knew when the mere crush turned into a fully-fledged love but boy how glad I am about it!

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #roommates au #fake dating au #cedric diggory #Cedric diggory x Reader #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x you

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rockyscactus · 3 years

Note

hello love! i just found your account and i must say i’m now a stan! i loved your ruel blurbs 😭 would you mind writing a little blurb about meeting ruel at a nye party and him crushing in you, and coco or his friends pushing him to go up to you and ask for your number? if not it’s okay! thank you 🧡

a/n: i luuuuuv this concept!! also it's kinda long and not proofread :)))

“Okay him”, your friend pointed to a random guy for the third time tonight.

“Stop trying to prostitute me off to random people. The clock strikes at midnight for sixty seconds. I think I can bask in my singleness for sixty seconds, I already do for 31536000 seconds a year”, you stated matter-of-factly.

“That was some quick math”, your friend’s boyfriend spoke, causing you all to let out laughs.

“Gotta keep track of the undying pain”, you dramatically held a hand over your heart. Your head immediately quirked up at the sound of offkey singing and you all followed the sound.

“Disgustingly terrible drunk karaoke? Best New Year’s party ever”, you spoke loudly over the terrible tune.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about”, a voice interjected.

You met a tall guy that stood next to you, your face feeling hot as you spoke, “Oh god, this is really embarrassing for me.”

“It’s laughable considering that I have no idea who the fuck that is”, he sneered as you let out the breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Fuck”, you sighed, “Well in that case, I think we can come to the mutual agreement that they suck. Like really badly.”

He let out a chuckle, “Oh I bet you’re hardly any better.”

“Right back at ya”, you elbowed him.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking at you, “What’s your go to karaoke song? Preferably something that we can trade off in parts.”

You threw your head back with laughter, “Oh hell no. No, no, no!”

“Oh come on, Simon Cowell. For all I know, you’re tone deaf!”

“And I would prefer to keep that to myself. And if you think otherwise, it’s your funeral”, you pointed a finger at his chest.

He looked down at your finger on his chest, “Oooh, shiver me timbers”, he held up his hands in a mockingly placate manner.

Before you could think of a quick response, he was bobbing and weaving through the crowd to get to the DJ booth.

Your friend and her boyfriend looked to you, overhearing the conversation. Your eyes widened as they fell into a fit of giggles. “Not funny”, you declared before chasing after the boy with the light brown hair.

“Here she is”, the guy handed you a mic before yanking you on to the stage, the familiar tone of Empire State of Mind by Alicia Keys playing. “Oh shit, okay this is the remix with Jay-Z and you’re doing Jay Z’s part!”

“Oh breaking your God crafted nose is gonna be so fucking satisfying”, you gritted through teeth.

He held the microphone away from him as he quickly replied, “I’m not really into blood-play, but I guess it’s something we can work out.”

You flicked him off before accepting your fate, “Yeah, I’m out that Brooklyn, now I’m down in Tribeca…”

“I’ve never heard of tone deaf rapping before, but you seem like the type to conquer the impossible”, the guy continued to mess with you as you walked off stage.

“Well if I would’ve known that I would be going on stage with Alicia Keys herself, I would have not put myself through that hell. But it’s a good thing you can sing, because comedy is definitely not your forte”, you quipped as your friend and her boyfriend charged toward you, gushing about your mediocre performance. Everything is amazing under the influence of alcohol.

Your friend let out a breathy laugh as she shook your shoulders, “We will not be leaving this behind us in the new year, trust me! That was everything I didn’t know I needed”, she gushed as she dragged you away from the guy and into the sea of people, leaving him to watch you disappear.

“Ruel, who the hell was that? That was so random but definitely the best performance of the night”, Ruel’s sister, Coco, approached her brother as he tried to find you in the crowd.

“Uh, I don’t fucking know. She was just like dragged away and well whatever”, he turned toward the kitchen.

“What? That’s it? Dude you’re gonna have to pull a rom-com move and find her. That could be your future wife and you’re just shrugging that shit off”, Coco’s friend yelled at him.

Coco nodded in agreement, “That’s what I’m saying! What’s her name?”

“I just said I don’t know”, he spoke with slight anger and anxiety, wondering if you really could have been someone to him.

“You’re so lucky you can sing, because I swear you’d just be roaming this earth aimlessly otherwise”, Coco rolled her eyes as they began searching through the crowd.

“Maybe he just left”, you shrugged, “Some people like to go party hopping on New Years”, you spoke loudly into the phone, your other hand held over your other ear to block out the noise.

You could hear your friend’s exasperated groan through the other side of the phone, “You have been given a Wattpad storyline and you’re rejecting it. You deserve no votes!”

“I’m hanging up now, see you guys at 12:01”, you cooed into the phone before ending the call.

In the back of your mind, you regretted letting your friend just whisk you away without another word. If he was actually going to be a part of your life, you had completely missed it.

You tried to suppress the thought as you moved toward the karaoke stage, reading the clock behind them that read 11:57. At least you could ring in your new year with a drunken offkey rendition of Take Care by Drake.

“Oh this is disgustingly terrible.”

“Well, I’m kinda tone-deaf so I have no business trying to be Simon Cowell”, you shrugged, biting back your grin. The universe was on your fucking side.

“I definitely think you have a rap career ahead of you though”, he was beaming from ear to ear as you turned to face him.

You exposed your smile, locking eyes with him, “I have to say, I was really disappointed that I never got your name. I’m Y/N by the way,” you asserted.

“Oh you broke my heart when you allowed yourself to be whisked away, Y/N”, he held an emphasis on your name

Neither of you had even heard the crowd around you chant out the countdown before you heard, “Happy New Year”, being yelled out left and right.

“Please tell me that you’re not socially tone deaf and are picking up on the fact that I really wanna kiss you right now”, your nameless duet partner spoke.

“Asshole”, you rolled your eyes as you leaned in and allowed your lips to melt on to his.

“It’s actually Ruel”, he spoke the second you pulled away.

#writing #imagines #ruel #ruel van dijk #ruel van dijk imagine #ruel van dijk edits #ruel blurb #ruel imagines #ruel one shot #ruel van dijk blurb #ruel van dijk one shot #ruel x reader #ruel van dijk x reader

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

rapp-ed around your heart (03)

word count; 14,820

summary; mitch has a few revelations about his life while going on a hike, and is realising that maybe there are still things he could enjoy in his life.

notes; after quite the slow burn, I think you’re all really going to enjoy this part. It’s just super sweet, actually.

warnings; none, pure fluff, as we know.

The Pacific Region

There was a warm presence pressed up behind you, arms wrapped around your body tightly, and sleep was still holding onto you tightly, making you squirm a little as you tried to adjust yourself into the morning. The grip holding onto you only tightened, a groan sounding in your ear to replace the steady breaths that had been brushing over your skin, making you shiver a little as you came to your senses slightly more.

All at once, consciousness came crashing over you, the shocking realisation that you were in Los Angeles felt like a tidal wave, and you let out an excited gap, coming down to tap the hand with a vice grip on you excitedly, and he shifted his own hand, catching yours to still it and pressing it to the warmth of your stomach, and holding over the top of yours tightly.

“Mitch! We’re in LA!”

“You’ve had four more hours of sleep, let me have a little longer too.” He mumbled the words while shifting a little more, getting himself comfortable once again, pulling the covers back up to your chin as he snuggled into the heat. “Shh, sleep.”

“But we’re in Los Angeles! There’s so much to do!” Your words came out like a whine, and simply huffed into the back of your neck, ignoring your trying at temptation, and you switched your tactics, rolling over in his arms to stare up at the roof of the car above you. “What if I go out and get us some breakfast, you can stay here and sleep, and I’ll bring you something good back?”

He cracked an eye open this time, a yawn on his lips as he looked at you, you face tipping to the side to meet his gaze, brown irises swimming with tiredness, serenity, and some more flickers that you couldn’t quite decipher. “Wouldn’t be the same without you here. Can we just have a few more minutes?”

You nodded to him, his lips forming a sleepy smile as he leaned in, settling his head closer to you, resting his cheek on your pillow instead of his own as he tried to snooze once again. You tried your best to stay still, and you managed it for a good five minutes, maybe ten, but you were wide awake now, excitement filling your body at the prospects for the day, and the sun shining in through the tinted windows was casting a hazy glow over the space you occupied, making it hard for sleep to once again claim you, and so you couldn't stop it when the fidgeting took over.

You were playing with your fingers, or smoothing your hands over the blankets, readjusting the covers and messing with the random things you could reach, before he groaned loudly, mild irritation in his tone at the sounds and motions of your twitching. His entire body raised up, flattening himself over the top of you in a starfish motion to hold you still, and the round of laughter that left you as he did was beyond your control to contain.

“Mitch!”

He hummed tiredly, letting his body slump even further against you, your breath forced from your lungs as you giggled, pushing at his shoulders and arms as you tried to roll him off of you, his chuckling joining your own as he shuffled, pinning you down as you gave in to his lazy assault.

“Get off of me! You’re crushing me!” Your words he'd no head as you laughed with him, his body moving as he freed you, rolling away from you and onto his side, before dragging a hand over his face, and propping his head up on his elbow. You matched his pose, a grin on his face as you did, and he raised his brows.

“Fine, I’m awake. It better be a fucking great day that you have planned, though!”

“It will be, it’s going to be fun, I promise.” His smile was softer now, and he reached out to brush a finger through the stray hairs that had come free from your updo to sleep in, before pulling his hand back to himself, shrugging his free shoulder.

“I know it will, this is a great trip.” You collapsed back against the pillows, feeling utterly accomplished as you heard the compliment for from his lips. “Now, I was promised a breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, searching around for a jumper to tug on over your head and your shoes, before crawling up front and finding your shoes, staring up the car as soon as he was in the passenger seat beside you. It didn’t take you long to find somewhere to grab a quick breakfast, and to find some toilets that you would be able to use to wash up and properly change in.

With a half-eaten McGriddle in hand, and two hash-browns already eaten, you were left acing one another, you sitting cross-legged in the driver’s seat as he sat twisted toward you with one leg pulled up in the passenger seat, eating happily as the sun rose across the sky in a destination of the other side, not quite yet at the middle, and leaving your plan as a blank slate ready to be built upon.

“What if we go to some of the little markets? There are loads of street stalls, we coil do that?”

He shrugged a little at your suggestion, his mind wandering for a second, and while both of you had been filled with ideas and inspiration about what you wanted to do, you hadn't yet come up with anything conclusive. “What about that art museum?”

“You want to go to an art museum?” You giggled, his face screwing up a little as he took a bit out of his food, chewing with his mouth open and speaking through his food as he wiped at the sauce on his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I’m classy enough for an art museum?” You shook your head, giggling a little at his words and fishing through the paper bag your food had been given to you in for a napkin, leaning across the centre console to wipe a blob of ketchup from his shirt.

“Probably shouldn’t go in with a stained shirt, though.” His cheeks heated up a little, and he looked down at himself, before seeming to get over it, licking at the place where another chunk of sauce was threatening to drop away, before digging back into the food. “So, markets, then the art museum, then?”

“Do you want to go out for dinner? Somewhere nice?”

“Like.. a dress up, look classy sort of place?” The hint was underlying, whether this dinner was something friendly or something more, the words unspoken in your question, but the twinkle in his eyes as he watched you told you he’d read between the lines, and he nodded slowly, his body tensing up a little as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, but he held strong. “I’d love that. I’m pretty sure I have a dress packed that could work for that.”

He let out a slow breath, finishing up his food and wiping his hands down on a napkin. “I’ll buy a shirt and tie while we’re out today.”

You grinned, finishing up the meal in your hands before cleaning up, searching around to find one of the wet wipes to get the sticky sauce from your fingers, and stretching yourself out a little. Pulling up some directions on your phone, you plugged it into the holder within your car, and one of the first songs to come up was a new addition made by Mitch, the man cheering loudly when he heard the opening notes, and you tipped your head towards him as you started the vehicle up, the tune shifting from the device speakers or h car speakers, and hi mood only brightened.

It felt like you were on holiday with an entirely new man to the one you’d started the journey with. The moody, bitter and glum attitude and persona had melted away, being replaced with who you believed to be the real Mitch Rapp, someone who was bubbly, and warm, and a total sweetheart, once you managed to break your way past the military-defence level walls he had put up to protect himself. He was someone you were so glad you’d bothered to take the time to get to know, because with every day that passed by and every slight change the two of you made towards one another, every memory created and every photo taken, it only confirmed to you that this trip was now so much better with him accompanying you than it ever would have been alone.

You spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon exploring the market places around you. Everything from the tourist traps to the genuine stalls, it was incredible. You picked up a disposable camera, swearing you’d get the photos developed when you got home, and took surprise photos of absolutely everything that you could. There were some that you were excited for, the ones taken as a selfie with the Hollywood sign in the background, and the ones of you both goofing off at the stalls. You bought funny sunglasses, yours in heart shapes with Mitch’s looking like pineapples. You had a new dress, one to wear for your dinner outing with Mitch tonight, a flowy and red floral sundress, and he had purchased a shirt he’d found while passing by the markets, one smart enough for the dinner you’d be having.

Your location was chosen when the two of you had searched for places to visit, settling on going to ‘République’ for your dinner, not wanting to miss the incredible opportunity to dine in the beautiful building, and take in the atmosphere of the transformed old church. There was no chance you could miss it, and so it had seemed like an easy choice.

You took every chance you had while you were out there, LA being one of your bigger stops, like Vegas had been, and like New York would be, your chance to live out your big city dreams before going home to where you truly belonged. You walked along Rodeo Drive, being able to clearly picture every scene within in from ‘Pretty Woman’, and much to your surprise, you found that Mitch had watched that too, his face dropping to look at the ground as he mumbled that he was actually quite a fan of rom-coms, and that his favourite was ‘Dirty Dancing’. His face had only grown redder as you cooed at him teasing him endlessly for his love of romantic comedies until the blush had traveled all the way down to his neck, before you’d finally taken pity on him, and given up on the teasing.

His arm was around your wait, holding you into his side as you walked, a thumb tucked under the edge of your shirt to rub over your skin soothingly, and you didn’t hesitate to check in with him frequently, to ensure that he was doing okay in the crowds, and wasn’t becoming overwhelmed.

When he had been a little frazzled, the two of you had opted to make your way over to the County Museum of Art, taking a quieter approach to the day, before it all became too much for him. You couldn't deny that as much as you love the hustle and bustle on the occasional trip, you couldn't do it personally, finding yourself becoming a little worn down by the constant activity, you were a born and raised countryside girl, Stan’s farm feeling more like home on any day than a studio apartment overlooking a city ever would. You were raised rolling around in dirt as you learned how to fight, and taking long hikes until your legs were numb and you could barely stand, just to see the beauty of nature, not taking ballet lessons and having private tutors and being groomed to take over a family business.

You wandered the building quietly, mumbling between yourselves as you investigated the art, and his hand had slipped down to find you own instead of being wrapped around your waist, your thumbs playing and rubbing together every so often as you walked, admiring the beauty of every piece you came across. The art museum had an entirely different vibe to the rest of the activities you’d done today, and it almost felt out of place, being a quiet place of serenity nestled in the middle of unending excitement, buzzing energy and thrill. Hollywood was the place dreams were supposed to come true, it was a live at every hour of the night and day with people waiting to break big, to achieve their hopes and dreams and to get the life they always wished for.

It was busy, and crowded, and full of life, and while you loved every bit of it, you sometimes needed a little peace and quiet. Mitch was seemingly more than happy to listen to you talk, giving a running commentary that wandered from the artwork to the other patrons looking around, everything from critiquing outfit choices to giving your opinion on the scenery and portraits you were seeing, adding his own words every so often, and humming along with you as you spoke.

He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, the progress he’d made in his own self-healing simply from taking a timeout from the chaotic and destructive life he led in the rest of his life was showing in everything he did. He was someone entirely new, like a blossoming flower, everything that was buried deep down was bursting up and erupting like a volcano, and getting to watch him finally unfurl again to soak up the sunlight in a world that had otherwise been cold and stormy for him was something that brought you great pride.

Upon finishing your journey around the art museum, and taking several photos while nobody was watching, the two of you joking around and interpreting the art as you saw fit, copying the poses modelled in some of them to take pictures that made you laugh until you were being glared at and squashed, before eventually decided you’d had your fill of pretending to be a modern and quirky artist in the making.

The walk back to the car was filled with soft joking around and teasing, changing into your new outfits ready for your dinner together, and as the sun began to lower across the other side of the middle pint, the mood between you both had managed to change as well. It was hazier, a little blurry and romantic, his hand finding yours the second you’d decided you were finished with getting ready, your hair styled up a little more than you usually did it, and some makeup adjusted on your features in what you felt was more appropriate for the evening.

He looked smarter than you’d see him, the man mostly owning slightly torn or worn clothing, rips and faded patched, distressed fabrics from hours of being tossed around in training of recruits or working in the gym, and you were absolutely certain that one of the t-shirts he’d worn had a bullet hol in the side, but had neglected to comment on it. Now, though, he was wearing the best pair of skinny jeans he had, and he’d wiped the mud and sand off of his sneakers, shining them up as best he could to match the smart, pale grey shirt on his chest, the top few buttons undone a little in the still very warm heat of the day, and he gave you a nervous smile as you did a little twirl for him, showing the outfit off proudly.

He kissed your forehead, and told you that he thought you looked lovely, before guiding you away in a small walk toward the restaurant, his arm gourd you tightly once again as you looked at the menu on your phone in advance, giving you both an idea of what you were getting into before you arrived and felt under a little pressure. He was left in charge of guiding you both along, ensuring you wouldn’t crash and bump into other people on the streets, as you read everything aloud to him, hearing him hum and mumble approvals or disapprovals over each one.

You had been seated from the moment you had arrived, your table already being prepared for you, a lit candle sitting beside a basket of bread, and Mitch had opted for the gentlemanly route, pushing your chair under the table for you. He had been twitching a little sitting with his hands out atop the surface as he looked at you, and it wasn’t until after the drinks and food had been ordered that he had the guts to actually reach out and take your hand in his, shakily weaving his fingers with your own and letting himself relax when you squeezed his hand in return.

It felt as though it should have been awkward, as though the new transition from one thing to another between you both should have something a little uncomfortable and jagged, and yet there was no silent lulls in conversation as the two of you chatted, and no anxious moments as you wondered whether or not it was going well because you could tell from the smile on his face and the warmth in your own cheeks that it was.

You shared food, and laughter, and got a little bit tipsy, the two of you stumbling a little as you made your way back to the car, more than grateful you’d pulled and set up a temporary base locations of yourselves in somewhere that had several locations with bathroom and spaces for yourself to change in, before you were still feeling a little buzzed, trying to detangle your hair and wrangle it in to some kind of functional style to work with for the night coming up.

The rest of the days light had dripped away from you both, the pastels and faded hues that made sunsets had passed while you were inside, and so you were determined to catch it tomorrow, because now you were left with pale pinks fading up into blue and black, leaving a glittering sky full of stars overhead a still busy city.

The light was already on when you made it back to the car, finding Mitch simply laying across the back, the trunk open as he let as much cool air get in to surround you both as possible, the vehicle still a little warm and stuffy as the residual heat that had built up inside during the day still lingered in the fabric of the blankets and the seats. He spotted you as soon as you had seen him, his arms held out lazily as he waited for you, remaining in that position until you had tucked away your bag, sealing up the box on the top of the car and crawling up the mattress to sit beside him.

Supporting yourself against the back of one of the chairs, you plugged in your phone, and made sure his was hooked up as well, checking the battery on the large device for the next time you’d be in a hotel to charge it, but it seemed to be doing fine, and so you were more than happy to let that concern slip away. Instead of holding his arms out any longer, the man rolled over, cushioning his cheek on one of your thighs as his arms wrapped under your legs, and he huffed out a happy sigh as his eyes drifted closed.

“Comfy?”

“Very.” He retorted, tiredness slipping into his voice a little more obviously now, the call of sleep beckoning him in, and the four less hours of slumber he’d had than you was beginning to make its presence well-known. “What we doin’ tomorrow?”

The light slur to his words made your heart swell, and you shrugged, dropping a hand down so that you could rub a hand over his back comfortingly, and he only squeezed himself tighter around you as he did, before shivering a little when a cold breeze swept through the cabin of the car, chilling you a tad as well. He released you when you shuffled, and you sealed the vehicle up tight, locking it for the night and flicking off the little but glaring light overhead, plunging you both into mild darkness, the street lights and stars never quite letting it turn to blind darkness, but it was more than enough for a yawn to tug at your own lips. When you returned, he was holding up the edge of the blanket for you, having found himself enough energy to get underneath them and get comfortable, leaving you to follow in his footsteps, your head meeting the pillow as exhaustion began to come knocking.

“Do you want to go to Venice Beach?”

You paused from the adjusting of the covers you had been doing, shock racing though you and sobering you up a little as you looked up at him, his own eyes already on you, face pure and blank of any discernible emotion, simply awaiting your response, brows a little raised to punctuate the question. “You don’t like the beach.”

“Yeah, but you do.”

He was actually offering you the chance to go to the beach; no argument, no fuss, simply the two of you going, and while you didn’t want to push him past his limits, you were hoping he would give you the chance to try and remake some of the bad memories he had, to take it and turn it to nostalgia as you taught him to once again love the things he’d grown to hate. “You’d really go to the beach for me?”

“I would definitely go to the beach with you, no complaints or anything.” You shuffled a little closer to him, and he lifted one arm up for you in offering, taking the subtle hint you had been laying down, and resting it across your body as you moved in closer to him, legs tangling together and breath washing over your face, the minty extract of his toothpaste sharp on the air, and you could feel the earth rolling off of his body and onto you. “Can we get ice cream, though? That’s my bargain.”

“We can get as much ice cream as you want.” You promised, watching as his lips flicked up at the corners when his eyes closed.

“Awesome.”

You repeated the word back to him, the silence falling between you both one again, and you had almost drifted off. You were unsure of how it happened, or when, but absolutely everything was different now, not only between you and Mitch, but in your entire life. After only a few weeks with the man, someone you thought you were going to hate, you now found that you would struggle to let go of him should he reach the end of the trip and choose to walk away, should he snap back to his locked up self when he got home, and you could only hope that wouldn't be the case.

The filter you usually possessed towards stopping your private thoughts and feelings from just drifting from your mouth when they crossed your mind was now entirely gone, and so you couldn't be helped all that responsible for the words that came next.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

He froze for a minute, the fingers that had been trailing up and down your arm in slow drawings stilled, before he was moving again, his front almost meeting your own as his forehead pressed to yours, noses bumping a little, and he sniffled lightly, the noise lost between you both as you kept your eyes closed, but found his hand under the cover. He was more than eager to lace your fingers together, breathing out a sweet sigh. “I’m really happy to be here. With you, on this trip. Thank you for letting me join you, thank you for taking the risk of agreeing to let me tag along.”

“You are so worth the risk, Mitch Rapp.”

You were grinning at the shore, facing out onto the already busily crowding beach as you waited for Mitch, who you were absolutely certain as just delaying the trip, and taking a moment to himself in preparation insisting that he could pack the beach bag for you both of you wanted to go and watch the ocean, and have a little look out across the sand to see where you wanted to take a seat.

You adjusted the top one again, feeling the slight chill from the lightweight cotton thrown over the top of your bikini, still waiting for the sun to really heat up, the cool breeze rolling in with every wave that crashed to the shore was making you sigh slightly, rolling on the balls of your feet. Glancing back over the vehicle, you pushed your sunglasses up into your hair instead of being sat on the tip of your nose, finding the man you were waiting for digging through the bag once again, and you decided to take things into your own hands.

You paced back over, standing by his side as he paused his rifling, looking up at you as you played it all off, and he turned his body towards you.

“I’m pretty sure we have everything we need.”

You hummed, before wrapping your arms around his waist, leaning into his body a little and looking up at him as he swallowed thickly, the smile on his face faltering a little. “We don’t have to go to the beach if you don’t want to. We can do anything today.”

“No, we are going to the beach.” He insisted, stepping away from the car and pulling you with him, closing the trunk after securing the bag on his shoulder. You dropped your arms from around him, pressing into his side as he tucked you under his own arm, and held you close to himself. “Did you choose where you want to sit?”

“Yes! Sort of. I have options.” He raised his brows at you, letting you guide the two of you along, your feet meeting the sand and you sunk between the grains a little bit, and you raised a hand to lace your fingers with his own from where they hung over your shoulder. “I was thinking we could sit half-way between the car and the sea, because I know you’ll want to still be able to see me if I go swimming, but then you can still see the car too. There’s no umbrellas though, the shade is all the way over there.”

You paused, glancing between both locations, and he nibbled on his lower lip for a moment, considering both options. “How about the shade, and then when you want to swim, I’ll just move further down the beach.”

He trailed after you and over towards the place you wanted to be, the two of you setting up your towels in the cooler sand, and you placed your hands on you hips, looking around in satisfaction as you took in the atmosphere You loved the beach, the sounds, the sights, the warmth, it had always been something relaxing that you’d loved, and you were so happy that you had the opportunity to try and bring some good beach-themed memories back to him.

“Take a picture with me? I want one with us under the palm trees.”

“Yeah!” You took the phone from him, holding it up over your heads to try and find some good lighting, waiting until you found a spot where the sun was just filtering to the leaves but didn't glare in either of your eyes or across the screen, and you adjusted the camera in your hands. You snapped the first one of the two of you smiling, and the second one was a little bit crazier, you were leaning up so more, pressing your face into the side of his and making both of your hair stand up, before his hand found you face, he held you cheek tightly, pressing his lips to the other, and one entire side of you face was scrunched up, the other smushed by his palm, but there was still a smile on your lips in the photo and so you couldn't help but love it.

After stripping off your shirt and your shorts, you were left in your bikini and your flip flops, rubbing suncream into your skin as grains of sand already began to stick to your skin, but you had to do it, to make sure you were well-protected and weren’t going to get burned. He was a little more hesitant, before stripping the shirt he wore over his head, rubbing in sunscreen carefully, and palming at the scar on his shoulder. You knelt down behind him, plucking the bottle from his hands and rubbing the cream slowly into his back from him, watching as he relaxed under your touch, your fingers brushing over the scar carefully, thumb pressing into it as you tried to soothe him, before hooking your chin onto his shoulder.

“Seriously, we can go if it’s too much.”

He twisted his head as far to the side as he could, shaking his head a little and reaching up to place a hand over your own. “Come sit in front of me, let me do your back for you, and then you can lean on me.” You moved in front of him, doing as told as his large hands smoothed over your skin gently, before letting you lean back into him, his arms supporting you both a your back pressed to his chest, the two of you staring out across the beach, and chatting the morning away as the temperature rose up and up.

You sunbathed, and relaxed onto the sands, and you soaked up the afternoon’s heat, before simply sitting still and shifting periodically to keep your tans even became a little too sticky and uncomfortable, the heat making you feel like you needed or be up and doing something, and so you had packed up your things and taken them back to the car, going for a walk to find some ice cream to cool down with, as you had promised him you would, and choosing to wander around for a little while.

You managed to persuade him back into a walk along the beach, even getting him as far down as the waters, edge, his face pale and eyes wide as he stared out at the sea, the waves lapping at his toes and his hand wrapped so tightly around your own that you thought he may actually break it, before he’d nodded to you, taking a step in deeper, and another, and another, until the water was reaching mid calf on both of you, and you were left walking through the gentle ripples of water, and he had eventually relaxed. Enough that you’d been able to chat, and even snap a few more pictures, walking almost two full miles, until you ran out of space, beginning to lose sight of the main beach, and turning to make your way back.

The temperature was beginning to cool down once again, and he set up the towel for you both, a few metres away from the water as you continued to splash around and paddle, poking at shells and rocks under the water with the tips of your toes, occasionally picking some up and showing them to him, before throwing them out into the ocean as far as you could get them.

You even had a little collection in your hands, ones you particularly adored, and you knelt before him when you were finished, the ends of you hair dripping wet and drips of water still running along you skin from where you’d risked walking in a little further, until the water had been lapping around your neck, your giggles visible to him you were sure, though there was no chance he’d be able to hear them. Sitting with your legs folded beneath you in the sand, you showed off each one to him, a random assortment of coloured rocks, slightly cracked shells, and brightly rolled pieces of smooth sea glass, choosing out a couple of pieces and discarding the rest onto the sand, brushing them off and putting them in you bag, before picking the grains out from under your nails.

It took you a while to wash up, your skin beginning to itch and feel dry from the salt of the sea, but you had eventually found somewhere, grabbing a spare change of clothes and scrubbing yourselves down, refreshing yourself for the evening and the night, and leaving your wet clothes out on the top of the car to dry, the metal still warm to the touch as the breeze helped to dry them leaving them where they were as you chose to take a walk along to Santa Monica Pier.

You shopped for trinkets in the ‘End of the Trail’ shop, despite the fact that you hadn’t actually been driving along Route 66, the two of you still bought plenty of little trinkets, enjoying looking round the shop and checking it all out. You also took a moment to explore the Oatman Rockshop, the 60’s theme bringing the both of you a weird kind of peace, searching through everything picking out one thing each, as well as something for your uncle, until you each held a gift bag from both shops, an the pier was beginning to close up as the hour approached eight o’clock, already. Street performers were doing their final shows, trying to make any last tips for the night, and you tried to make sure you tipped every single one that you passed, dishing out your change until you had no spare coins left to give, and moving on to grabbing some food.

With some fried food in hand, you dropped off your bags and swiped your dried clothes into the vehicle, before setting off back down onto the now cold beach. You sat down, watching the sunset and seeing the colours paint the horizon, glittering over the calm waters in a way that was so ethereal it never failed to take your breath away, something about the sun setting feeling like a reset button for you each time, something about it taking all your fears and worries away, every anxiety you had, until you were left in serene quiet, even if only for a few minutes.

You stuffed the wrapped into your bag, hauling it up your shoulder and standing once it was beginning to get dark, the sun having disappeared, dragging it’s few rays away with itself quickly, and the night was setting in. Everything around you was lit up with beautiful and twinkling lights, and you were turning back towards the car when fingers ran down the inside of you arm, making you shiver a little before you were uncurling you fingers and letting him slide his between you own, grasping onto him tightly once his hand was slotted against yours.

“Let’s just walk for a little bit.”

“What if we get cold?”

He bumped the edge of his nose against your temple with a soft laugh, before pulling you tightly into his arms, running his hands along your back. “Are you cold?” You shook your head. “Then if you do get cold, I’ll keep you warm. Just a little walk, to the sea and back. I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

You gave in, your hands bumping against your thigh occasionally as you took a longer and diagonal path towards the ocean once again, the peace he held now that the beach was empty, just the two of you in sight, having conquered his fear, and he seemed almost ecstatic to once again be at the water's edge once again. The same anxiety he’d had all through the day was melting away from him, and you pressed into his shoulder as you went, his arm looping over you to hold you close, and he brushed a kiss across your head.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’. Just being happy.” You muttered, coming to a stop when he did, and turning to look up at him, his brows furrowed as he tried to find the words, licking at his lips and huffing when he couldn’t quite seem to get it. Reaching a hand up, you squeezed at his arm, before moving over his shoulder and onto his neck, the man raising his gaze to look at you carefully, his stare so deep and intense that you felt like he was peering right into your soul. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like I don’t deserve good things. I’ve done bad things, even though I was trying to do what was right.” He stepped in a little closer, and you got the sense he wasn’t finished, that the confusing sentences were leading up to something else, your breath hitching a little when he continued on; “You’re a really good thing.”

“What are you saying, Mitch?”

“I want you but I don’t think I deserve to have you.” He mumbled, his eyes searching your own, and you sighed softly, leaning in to press your forehead against his.

“I think you deserve so much more than you have, Mitch. I think you’re a good person, and you just won’t let yourself see it.” His eyes fluttered shut, lips rolling together as he contemplated your words, before he was twisting his head, bumping his nose against your own as your lips brushed together. Letting your bag fall away to the floor so that you could loop your arms around his neck, you didn’t care about the belongings that you heard scatter into the sand, or about the dust that would get into your stuff, you only cared about the way it felt when his calloused hands smoothed over your body to sit low on your back, and the sweet taste of sugar on his breath from the fresh donuts that two of you had snacked on.

His lips brushed over yours, your tongue peeking out instinctually to wet them as you prayed your lips, the seconds gap between now and when his mouth would close over yours. A slow breath, the drag of your mouths together as they fluttered across one another, not quite a kiss yet, teasing and playful, his fingers digging into your lower back a little more as he pushed you in closer to him, until there was no more space between you, and everything was flush together, waiting for the connection of your lips.

He pressed a kiss to the edge of your mouth, a small smile taking up on your face when he did, and you held your breath in anticipation.

You jumped in pure shock and a little horror though, when you felt something brush against your ankle the rustling of the items at your feet, and Mitch spun you around protectively, both of you looking back as a seagull squawked, wrestling with one of the paper bags to get to the left over pastry inside, another descending to get at it too, and they wrestled for it. As the adrenaline slipped away, your fingers untangled from the grip you had on his shirt, and yet he kept you held justa s lose, his face flared up red in embarrassment but you couldn't hold back your laughs, burying your face into his neck as the humour of the moment took you over.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You whispered between laughs, reaching down to scare them away, before grabbing at your items as he helped, dusting them off and packing the bag, before putting it back on your shoulder.

“Fucking seagulls.”

The words only made you laugh more, but he seemed happy with your response, rolling his eyes fondly and guiding you back towards the car, but not before you were taking a fistful of his shirt again and pulling him to a stop. Leaning up, you placed a long kiss to his cheek, dragging your lips over his skin until you were almost at his mouth, before sinking back down to your heights she stared at you. “We won’t be interrupted next time, it’ll be perfect, I promise.”

He nodded, taking your hand and pulling you in close, until he could wrap an arm around your lower waist. “Wanna’ drive around LA in the dark for a bit?”

“That sounds like an amazing idea.”

It was only a short walk back to the car, shorting yourselves out comfortably and getting strapped in, playing rock-paper-scissors for who would drive, to which you lost, finding yourself behind the wheel first. Clambering into the car, you settled yourself into the seat, adjusting it from the distance that changed when Mitch drove, his longer legs forcing the seat further back, and he grabbed a jumper, settling himself into the passenger seat and turning the heat up a little.

The night lights round Los Angeles flashed by, giving you more than enough aesthetic pictures than you knew what to do with, you could plaster your walls at home with a new picture every time and probably still fill at least two rooms. You even forced him to stop at one point, and to take a picture of you sitting on the top of the car, your body a silhouette against the twinkling back drop.

Following that decision, the two of you had decided to do the drive up to San Francisco before the sun rose, the sunset inspiring you to stay up and watch a sunrise too, and so you were determined to find yourselves parked up beside the Golden Gate Bridge before the sun peaked back up over the horizon. Neither of you were all that tired, but you pumped yourselves up with coffee anyway, grabbing some sugary snacks to eat as you went along on the road, having him feed you candy and hold up chocolate bars to your face as the two of you drove along, swapping a couple of hours in.

Loud music turned up high, singing at the top of your lungs together into the cold night air with the windows rolled down, only the moons and stars as your witnesses, and the two of you couldn't have been happier. You rarely ever actually crossed another car, your headlights being the only ones to light up the roads as you went along, before finally you were crossing the signs letting you know you were now entering San Francisco, loud cheers from you both and high fives being shared.

By the time you were pulling up to the bridge, the sun rays were just beginning to creep back into the night sky, preparing to welcome in another day, a few minutes to spare as you jumped up and out of the car. You were dragging him out of his seat before he’d even properly turned off the car, having to pull you to a halt just to be able to disentangle the keys from the ignition, closing the door to keep the warmth in as the car sat nestled under some trees to keep it dark once the sun came up. Both of your hands were wrapped tightly around one of his, pulling him with you watch out tightly over the bridge, and his thumb smoothed over your skin as you waited.

“You’re practically buzzing.” He mumbled, and you shoved his arm lightly, but kept him close, tilting your face up towards him as he pressed his lips to your cheek in a sweet kiss.

“I’m excited!”

“You’re fucking adorable is what you are.” He whispered, and you turned your head towards him, rubbing the tips of your noses together, and he sighed out happily against you, letting you twist in his arms until you were facing him entirely, and you stepped in closer, pressing yourself up to him once again and letting his arms encase you, feeling him wrapped around every single part of you as you existed in this moment. “You’re going to miss it.”

Your head turned away from him, watching out as golden light began to spill across the horizon in puddles or warmth and bright joy, spilling out over the land and switching the faint darkness to pretty early morning light, your breath catching in your throat as you watched it. Large hands were soothing up and down over you back, and you tightened your own around him, pulling yourself in as close to him as you could possibly get, and feeling his heart thudding against his chest, slow and steady, yet strong as it worked, and you were sure he could feel yours too.

Resting your cheek to his shoulder, he tucked his chin atop your head, and you pressed in a little deeper, suppressing the yawn that you were wanting to release. At this moment, you knew you’d never been happier, not a care in the world as you watched the sun rise up and back into the sky once again. You were on the drip you had always dreamed of going on, and you had some company in unexpected ways, and yet you realised your heart felt full, being able to share everything with someone else, someone whom you hoped would be around with you for a long time.

“It’s so pretty.”

He didn’t give you a verbal reply, his chest rumbling with his acknowledgement though, a sound you knew to be in agreement, and you twisted your head up, pressing your lips to where you could reach, the underside of his jaw and the edge of his cheek. When the sun had finally moved up above the boundary where the sky met the land entirely, you pulled back to look at him, his arms loosening a little around you.

You shook off another yawn, keeping your lips sealed closed but not missing the chuckle he let out as he pushed some hair back and out of your face. As you watched warm honey-coloured eyes twinkle in the early morning light, you could finally read what that look in his eyes was. It was vulnerability, letting his walls down when he looked at you, when he was around you, risking letting someone else in when he was so nervous to even allow himself to grow close to someone else again.

“You’re tired. Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, okay.” You whispered, a hand finding his cheek as you watched him, before giving up on everything else within you, and pulling his face down to meet your own. His lips were soft and yet a little chapped, slightly raw from all the anxious biting he did on them but he pressed back onto you just as powerfully upon realising what was happening. A breathy noise left him, his mouth moving fluidly over your own as his hands tightening infinitely on your body, and you gasped a little into his mouth.

He dipped you back a little, leaning over you as your hands cupped his face, fingers pressing into his cheeks and jaw as you clung to him, and you pulled back for a gasping breath, before diving into his mouth once again. He was just as eager to meet you, this one no longer the needy and hurried kiss that your first had been, but a longer and more sensual kiss.

This one was teasing drags of lips and flicks of tongues that never went further, it was bumps of noses and needy whines that only made the two of you shift and pull closer, your hands in his hair, and you were smiling into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, your skin was stinging a little from rubbing against the rough stubble lining his cheeks, and your lips were swollen and raw from the kisses, but you loved every second of it as you panted for breath.

“Woah.” You grinned at his words, pecking his lips once again as he happily returned it, and he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “I forgot how exhilarating first kisses could be.”

“Nah, that’s just me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, before dipping down to steal another kiss from you. “Maybe so, but it was still a pretty epic first kiss, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” He nodded, before navigating you back to the car, helping you up and into the back. You didn’t even bother to get out of your clothes, simply kicking off your shoes and running a makeup wipe across your skin, before finally getting comfortable on the mattress and settling under the covers. He followed afterwards, his body becoming one with your own as his legs tangled with you won and your arms wrapped up together.

“I can’t believe it's only been three weeks, and you've changed my life so radically that I have no idea how to go back to who I was being before.” You looked up at him, urging him to continue on, but not without lifting a hand to settle over his chest, feeling his puff up underneath you as he pressed into your touch. “I never thought about travelling before. I had so many plans, I wanted that perfect job and big career and deluxe apartment, and when I was with Katrina, that seemed like the perfect plan. But now I know what I would have been missing out on, and while I was in pain for a long time, I kinda’ feel like this was the path I was always supposed to be on.”

“That’s so poetic.” You whispered, and he chuckled, nodding his head and simply setting into quiet beside you. Nothing else needed to be said, it wasn’t a conversation, it was simply a statement, and not one that needed anything else to be returned, he just wanted it to be put out there, for you to hear it and to know.

With fingers on your chin, he pulled your lips up to his, something along the lines of contentment sounding in the back of his throat, before he was pulling back. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You grinned, rolling him over a little and hitching one leg up and around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he crooked his arm, running his fingers through your hair gently, the other hand closing over your knee and squeezing tightly.

After your moment atop the hill overlooking the bridge, the two of you had gone on almost exactly the same as you had before, the only difference being that of the kisses he would occasionally press to your lips as a surprise. He was affectionate, and attentive, and you felt like you were gaining a little more information on the man you were with every single time you spoke.

Opening himself back up to the world somehow seems like a troubling task for him, and yet he was doing it so seamlessly that you’d think he’d never had an issue in the first place. The end of the week was spent in San Francisco, the two of you sleeping in late thanks to such a late night, and spending almost an hour deliberating over what you wanted to do. When it was settled, however, it was on spending the remainder of the day at the Golden Gate Park, a picnic in hand with bits you’d bought from a local sandwich shop and a blanket pulled out from the back of the car.

His insistence was that it would be romantic, and that after the kiss you had shared, a romantic date was in order, but it had ended up being so much more. You had started the day with trailing through Walmart, a cart in hand and a lot of unusual looks being thrown your way as the two of you constructed what was possibly the most unusual collection of belongings in the cart that existed. You had drinks for your picnic, as well as an absurd amount of dried snacks and bottled drinks, and then came the oddities.

Period pads, a starling amount of batteries, almost half of the shelf of hand sanitiser, antibacterial wipes and cotton pads, and you were certain people were beginning to wonder if you were hoarding for an apocalypse. You didn’t bother with bags, knowing it all had a storage place in the vehicle anyway, and so you opted instead to simply spend a little while unpacking it into the back, with you sitting cross-legged on the mattress, and doing the best to catch all the items that were thrown at you in high speeds. You caught at least the first ten, maybe even fifteen, before they were beginning to pile up, and you had laid back in the bedding, giggling as he continued to stack them up atop you, leaving you buried under the pile of groceries until the cart was empty, and you were left to be uncovered as he swept them aside.

Sorting them through from the box atop the car, the glove box, the back of seat pockets and all of the little storage bins you had in the back of the car, and getting yourselves set, leaving a lot of snacks and drinks for yourselves in the front seat for when you got on the road later. You had a long drive ahead of you in the night, but the sun was still shining, and so you took your sandwiches and your blanket, and headed down to your next location.

The trip through the park had begun with his hand nervously wrapped around yours, and a chance to stop for several photos along the way, before pausing at each small but beautiful attraction. You walked around the chain of lakes one time, and then looped halfway around again to find somewhere to settle down.

You laid out the blanket, pinning it down at the corners with your shoes and the basket, before you were laying out across it. His shadow fell over you, and you were left to look up at him as he sat beside you, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. He grinned, leaning down to place a nervous but endearing kiss to your lips, before sitting back up and turning towards the basket to hide the dopey grin on his face, that he wasn’t quite fast enough to cover from you.

“Food now, or sunbathing first?”

“Food. Gimme’ my sandwich.” You made grabby hands, and he linked one of his with your own, lifting you up to sit beside him. Your sandwich was passed to you, your shoulder’s bumping as you did, and the two of you stared out across the lake, watching as ducks swam and wandered around the outside, throwing in bits of grapes and seeds for them whenever they swam close. You had some more of the snacks from the car to fill you up, this being what would turn out to be the only meal the two of you had today, and so you are more than eager to fill up on it.

There was a tray of cupcakes to follow, four different flavours, two each, ones that you’d picked out from the glass casing of pretty swirls of icing and toppings of glitter in the baked good section while your sandwiches were being prepared. There was a mixture of dark chocolate and coffee overwhelming your taste buds right now, a simple vanilla icing to tone it back down, and it was like heaven in a cake wrapper, your eyes drifting closed for a second.

“I want to move here, so I can eat this exact type of cupcake for the rest of myself.”

“That good, huh?” Mitch glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a glint crossing his features, and he took a sip of his drink, brows raised in questioning, and you took another large bite.

“Wan’ try some?” You tried not to let crumbs fall from your mouth as you spoke through the bite, swallowing your mouthful as you held it up to him, and he nodded his head.

“Would love to.” He leaned down, and you held it up to his face, but he bypassed the sweet treat entirely. His tongue trailed along the bottom of your lip, swiping up icing that had gotten smeared there, before his lips were encasing yours, and you squeaked at the feeling.

This kiss was different, all your others had been shy and nervous, and yet he seemed more confident this time around. His mouth teased over yours as his hand came up, holding your jaw firmly, and you trembled a little under his hold as his tongue dipped out to trace the seam of your lips, tempting you to pry them open for him, and you couldn't resist. There was still a caramel taste lingering in his mouth from the salted caramel and fudge flavoured treat that he’d been enjoying himself, and you felt your entire body sag underneath him at the slow drag of your tongues together.

He grinned, not missing the whine you let out, his lips twisting up a little from where they were pressed to yours, and he put a little more effort into the kiss. The glide of tongues and lips, the way he seemed to suck the air out of your lungs, pulling back for only a second to catch his breath before diving back into you, and the subtle grazes of teeth over soft flesh, you felt like your heart was about to burst right out of you chest as your mind spun. He finally pulled back, nibbling a little on your lower lip and leaving you breathless as he settled back into his own place. “You’re right, that is good.”

“That was so smooth.”

Your words came out like a whisper on a hoarse through, and he snickered to himself at the mess you’d become, before he was offering you a sip of your drink and a lazy wink to go with it, flustered heat flashing up across your face.

You got a few more kisses throughout your picnic, and several more as you went back to the car, but once the heat began to fade, and the eight-hour drive to Portland was hanging over your head, you were soon to get on the road and towards the highway. You were only one day into whatever it was that you were becoming with Mitch, but it was already making you feel like this trip was going to become a whole new set of memories than what you’d thought it would be.

On your third hour of driving, swapping over to place you in the driver’s seat, Mitch had reached a hand out, cautious at first, as to where the limits lay and what he was allowed to do, brushing the back of his knuckles along your thighs while you were talking. He continued to place patterns into your skin, your lips forming something between a smile and smirk as you watched him but didn’t say anything, letting him take his time.

He finally worked his nerve up, settling his hand flat over your skin, and squeezing gently, pausing in what he was saying to look at you and make sure it was okay, and you took a hand from the wheel, placing it over his and holding him there, letting him know that it was okay. He was reserved and shy, and while everything on the outside of him exuded collected and confidence, a stone wall with no cracks, inside he was simply full of brightness and warmth, soft and unsure and just trying to work out exactly who he was once again, now that his world had flipped him upside down and left him with no other choices.

He was set on a certain path, and it was a job that brought him satisfaction, to protect and defend and to save lives, and while it was hard on him - both physically and mentally - it also brought with it a kind of gratitude that he had for himself, an appreciation that he’d picked up on his life and moved on, despite what had happened, and you could certainly respect that. Around the sixth hour, you swapped back over, a final few hours drive as you crawled into the passenger seat, googling places that the two of you would be able to stop at, and his hand found your thigh once again.

There was a truck stop that left you just an hour or so outside of the city, and it seemed better than nothing, having a few small diners and cafés around it that you would be able to use for breakfast in the morning, but it left you with no place to wash up. Teeth were cleaned with bottles of water on the side of the parking space and your face was scrubbed with makeup wipes, dumping all of the waste into a trashcan, and taking turners to change in the back.

The heaters left the car heated, but not warm enough for a comfortable level of sleep, having kept the A/C going too to ensure you didn’t get sleepy behind the wheel, and while you knew that the car would inevitably warm back up in a few minutes now that it was sealed up tight and secure, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to cuddle up close to the man you found yourself beginning to care deeply for.

His arms were held out wide for you, and you lifted the blankets, settling against his chest and ignoring the flicker in your chest when his arms sealed you up tightly, one hand weaving into your hair and stroking over his softly, his lips brushing your forehead, and the other drawing unintelligible patterns over the shirt on your back.

The next three days seemed to fly past you in some kind of a blur, everything up to Seattle just tickling on by like a flash, a dream that you wake up from a little too early leaving you wondering what happened before you raised you’ve overslept, and have to rush away from it all.

In Portland, the two of you took time out from your busy tour to go and see the Lan Su Chinese Botanical Garden. It was full of beautiful culture and tranquillity, soft music and the sounds of the little waterfalls and fountains, the smells of all the different flowers in the air being like that of a floral burst, and you felt as though stepping through that gates had taken you to a whole new place. It was incredible, and soothing, and you felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders simply by being there. You didn’t let go of Mitch’s hand once, letting him guide you through as you inspected every piece of architecture and decoration as you went, stopping to take photos with everything that you could.

There was a cosy little spot that you discovered not too far from it for your lunch too, the day flying you by before you’d even realised it, the afternoon already having been rolling around, and so your sightseeing around the large city had come next. You held onto Mitch the entire time, sensing when he was becoming overwhelmed by the crowds and loud noise, despite the fact that he refused to voice it, and you hadn't missed the way that the posters for the exhibit of an old war submarine had caught his eye.

You went, and you looked around and learned, and he seemed to be truly in his element then, soaking up every single piece of information he could, poking at things as you went around and telling you excitedly about all the different things. You couldn't care less about submarines, but with the way his face lit up and the passion in his voice as he explained all the indifferent workings and machines or you, it would be hard for anyone not to give him their full attention, your cheeks aching from how much you smiled while simply listening to him talk.

You had a few more things to get ready for sending home, and so you stopped off to grab shipping labels and boxes at a crafts store you had passed, the two of you making sure you’d checked off everything for Portland from your mental bucket lists. With supplies in the back and your playlist ready to go, the two of you were sitting at the front of the car, your map out as you carefully turned dots along the road into crosses with a sharpie pen, mapping out your progress so far, and trying to come up with ideas for what you wanted to do with the beginning half of your day tomorrow, before driving some of the distance up to Seattle.

You had settled on the dam, knowing that you had some of the drive to do anyway, and so you could travel towards it and your next destination once you were on the road. That night was spent boxing up your trinkets and labelling them, getting distracted each time you felt his eyes lingering on you for too long, or each time he looked so incredible while doing the simplest of tasks, like writing an address on a parcel, and it often ended with delicate kisses being shared that took you away from the task at hand. You eventually finished your work, and went to bed, with stinging lips and wide smiles.

Your first job on your second day had been to deliver the mail, stopping by in the post office at a machine that printed pictures from your phone into postcards, and you selected a couple of the pictures from your camera roll, before settling on one of the one’s you’d taken at the beach in California, pushing a note into the machine and printing it off, scribbling a quick note onto the paper, before taking that away to be delivered too. It didn’t take long to reach the Bonneville Dam, and you could hear the roaring floods of water as soon as you stepped out of the car.

It was misty in the air, leaving your clothes and skin slightly damp, from the water that had been thrown up, and the two of you had tried to make wishes on the water. You didn’t want to throw in coins, and so instead you each found twigs that had fallen to the ground from the trees lining the fences, chucking them in and mentally projecting your desires, watching as they disappeared into the water and were carried away quickly by the rapidly moving flow. You could walk along the full length, from the higher grounds with calmer moving waters, to places lower down where the water was crashing and creating noise, spraying up in your faces if you got too close, and you were sure you were going to have to change clothes once you got back to the car, just to be comfortable for the trip you had ahead.

Once you were finished looking out over the water itself and wandering up and down, you had moved onto the ‘fish hatchery’ next door, the serene ambience inside making you relax once again. Ponds and little waterfalls field with pretty fishes of all different colours, ranging from trout, to salmon, to sturgeon.

It felt like the fish section of the pet store, quieter than all other areas, lit up with bubbling tans and decorations, as well as lights that complemented the shine on each fish, the silent swish of them within their waters, and it was like a kind of therapy, numbing you both into nothing but harmony.

There were several footpaths that you could take, a bag of fish food in your hand that was to share between you both, handfuls of the pellets and flakes being sprinkled into the water, watching as they came up to the surface to nibble on their meal, and you repeated the process at every tank you passed by, until the bag was empty, and you were certain you had seen every single one.

You had reached Seattle by the late evening, grabbing a drive-thru dinner once again, this time from In-N-Out, sitting on the hood of the car, the recently turned off engine under the metal keeping you both warm, and you’d already changed into your pyjamas. You had found somewhere to actually be able to shower, taking a long steam under the hot water, scrubbing yourself down from head to toe until you felt fresh again, and it left you able to sit up atop the car with your burger and fries, feeling refreshed as you looked toward your next day.

The secret TV nerd buried deep within him had suggested the two of you checked out the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ filming locations, before revealing that he loved medical dramas even more than romantic comedies, and had pretty much seen everything that had come out before a couple of years ago, and you promised to catch up with him on everything he’s missed since joining the Orion team as soon as you got home. That particular suggestion had earned you some kisses, the taste of ketchup on his mouth and the slight sting of salt on his lips, but you revelled in it nonetheless, leaning into it and kissing him back just as firmly.

When you had imagined how your adventure would go, it never included sitting on the hood of your car and staring out at neon diner signs with greasy takeout food and sweet kisses, but you wouldn't change it for the world, every part of it only seeming to for perfectly into the memories you would never forget. The night had ended with a walk around the edge of the woods surrounding the driver’s spot that you’d pulled up to, staring up at the moon and stars until the cold had become too much, and you’d crashed in a heap of blankets and woven limbs.

The next day you did exactly as he had suggested, and the morning had consisted of taking a while to even find some of the filming locations. You drove around, and stopped for gas, getting out to take a quick look around the front of the hospital, which had deteriorated into a discussion that lasted for over an hour as you sat outside of the building with hot drinks in hand and discussed your favourite episodes.

The two of you even took a little Ferryboat journey out to Lopez Island, taking pictures on the water and doing a little shopping around there. You bought souvenirs and keychains, and grabbed some snacks to take back with you, before the light was beginning to fade, and you still had the drive to do to the base of the trails on Washington State Mountain.

That is exactly what led you to where you were now, sitting in the car and preparing yourself for bed, both of you searching through the box above the car to find your best clothes for a hike on Mount Rainier, and setting them out ready for yourselves. You also pre-packed your backpack with all the foods you would be eating for your lunch, as well as any necessities you may need for the trip, leaving in on the front sea with your best walking shoes, and waiting for Mitch to finish up as you played with the blankets.

He was ready not long after you, locking up the car, and flopping his body down, held by your side and half on top of you, muffling your complaints and giggles about being crushed with some simple goodnight kisses, mumbling the words into your mouth, before flicking off the flights filling the cabin around you both.

“Mitch! Will you hurry up!”

He scoffed, flipping you off absent-mindedly before going back to tying up his boots, tucking the edge of his jeans down into them and you groaned loudly as he moved to retie the other shoe, and you were certain that at this point he was doing it just to tease you. You tore your gaze away from the beautiful forestry before yourself, and turned back to take quick steps towards the car.

“You are taking, like, two hundred years to tie yo-” Digits sealed on the sides of your jaw, a thumb and forefinger holding tightly, and pulling your mouth down to meet his, a quick and simple kiss pressed to your lips, but it was enough to have you feeling a little shocked, words dying in your mouth as his lips worked with your own slowly, and left you pouting when he pulled away.

“Patience is a virtue.”

His words were whispered against your lips, and you grinned, bumping the tip of your nose with his, before pressing another quick to peck to his mouth, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat at the affection. “Not one that I possess when it comes to hiking.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing a seven-mile hike?” He raised his brows, standing up in front of the car and pulling out the backpack that had your lunch and drinks in it, swinging it up onto his body and locking the car.

“Mountain goats.”

“Right, that’s it.” He huffed, struggling to tuck the keys into one of the pockets as his arms twisted behind him, but he seemed to manage it, sealing the keys in the bag too and rolling his neck from side to side. “And what if we walk seven whole miles, and the mountain goats don’t feel like frolicking in sight today?”

“Then you get the absolute luxury of four hours of time with me.”

He grinned, and you held your hand out to him, his fingers linking through your own as the two of you set off along the well-marked trail, and when you turned to him, he was smirking down at you, running a hand through slightly too long hair, pushing it back and out of his face. “Wouldn’t I get that anyway? We are on a road trip, I’ve had a whole month of uninterrupted, quality, bonding time with you.”

“Stop being such a sourpuss, Rapp. Hiking is fun, and you’re going to love it.”

“That sounds like a threat.” He snickered, your elbow digging into his side as you laughed in reply. “Was that a suggestion or a command?”

“A command, you’re legally obligated to enjoy your time with me, if you want me to cuddle with you at night.” His face flushed with a little heat, cheeks going slightly pink, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he tried to hold in his smile, and you liked the more playful side of Mitch that had been revealing itself to you over these last few days. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“You’re cute anyway. It’s also cute that you think you’d be able to stay away from me all night, I know you love it when I do that thing on your scalp.” Your eyes fluttered shut, a happy sigh leaving you at the memories of his fingers digging gently into your skin and soothing through your hair at night as the two of you slept. “How about we call it a truce, and you let me have half of your red-velvet cupcake when we get to the halfway point?”

“Deal.” You grinned, and he dipped down, sealing the promise with a short kiss, and the trail picked up a little more as the trees overhead finally met the path, the sun being clouded out just a little as the concrete fell away to mud and twig underfoot, marked out for your pathway.

It was beautiful, the woods fading away into beautiful fields, flowers filling the grass in all kinds of colours, a rainbow of pretty petals and the perfect scene for a photo shoot, the two of you alternating between snaps and selfies, until you were certain you had taken one from every possible angle, and couldn’t need anymore. You stayed on the pathways to protect the protected plants, the nature being guarded carefully to keep it as serene and beautiful, and you would have hated to mess any of it up. One the other slopes began to come into view, clearly, you were - in fact - able to spot mountain goats, watching them graze slowly along the ridges, and tapping at Mitch’s arm, letting him roll his eyes fondly as he looked to the animals, but his eyes were fixed on them until they were no longer in view as you continued to walk.

It was like a break from reality, snapping out of it long enough for Mitch to convince himself that this was the kind of exercise he liked to partake in, that blisters were on his feet from hiking boots and the sting in his throat was from panting hot air, instead of calloused and cut up hands from boxing bags and sparring, and ripped raw throats from accidentally inhaling smoke from fires and the gunpowder essence in the air after firing out his shots.

You were able to convince yourself that this was a life you led regularly, getting the chance to go out simply be a part of nature, that the nature you weren’t exposed to the most was the woods around your uncle’s home as you patched him or other recruits up from serious injuries, and that when you pulled on a pair of boots, it wasn’t for the purpose of running and hiding from someone who had a grudge to hold against your family.

It was peaceful, your hand never leaving his, warm palms growing slightly sweaty as the exertion only grew, but you stayed attached, chatting about things that had no meaning at all and seemed to flitter away into irrelevance as the topics changed continuously. When the call for food and a break became overwhelming, you came to a halt, finding a nice patch of grass to sit under, tree canopies overhead and leaving a cool shade to shelter you from the warm midday heat that had taken over.

You ate, and laughed, and shared food out between you both, laying down in the grass and simply watching the clouds move past in the sky. Your head was cushioned on his arm, the rest of it bent at the elbow to sit over your shoulder, fingers linked with your own. His lips had pressed to your forehead, and you had twisted, kissing along the stubble lining his jaw until you reached his lips, the minutes turning into almost an hour as the two of you took that break in your hike, sweet kisses becoming something more heated.

Like a Shakespeare play, the hazy summer atmosphere seemed like a novel-worthy layout. Butterflies fluttering through the sky and flowers dancing in the breeze, birds chirping overhead, and nothing or nobody to bother the two of you. Your mouth had met his first, a surprised but content noise-making itself known in the back of his throat, before he’d been more than eager to return it, his lips moulding with your own in a series of soft and caring affections.

He had rolled towards you a little, his body shadowing over your own and blocking the sun out from your eyes, and your other hand slipped up to tangle into his hair as you found yourself laying back down against the cushioning of his arm. His other hand was holding your face, fingers smoothing your hair out of the way so that he could hold onto your cheek. Your head met the bare strands of grass when he’d shifted a little more, his body covering your own entirely as he under that hand to support himself, the one from your cheek moving from your body a little to find your hip as his tongue met your own.

Teasing at your lips and tracing your mouth, it was slow and passionate, learning one another in a more intimate way, taking the time out and just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the feel of sturdy grass pressing into your skin as your mouths worked together. Gasps for breath and clumsy bumps of noses and foreheads as you worked on a rhythm that would work for you both, until his hand was trembling from holding him up, and your lips were stinging from the overactivity, your sensitive skin scratched up along your face, and his own wet lips made a lazy grin.

A thumb had run over your lips, clearing the shining spit away from them, and placing a final peck there, before he was groaning out in relief at taking the weight from his arm, flopping back down into the grass beside you and slinging a hand over his face to block out the sun rays shining down.

“Fuck, I missed that.”

“What exactly was that for?” your voice was raspy, and you popped your elbow up, head resting on your hand and one hand coming to rest to his chest, his hand closing over yours as you drew patterns into his shirt.

“Y’ looked cute. I like kissing.” He licked at his lips, dragging his teeth over swollen red flesh, but your gaze seemed to unlock something more in him, because the happy sigh he let out shrugging his shoulders a little and pulling you closer to him to press your cheek to his shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck. “Y’know, a month ago I felt empty. Hollow, like nothing mattered. Hopeless.”

“Mitch..”

“No, no. That’s not how I feel now.” He offered you a sweet smile when you leaned up to look down at him, and a hand found your neck, sitting delicately on the side and thumb smoothing along your jaw sweetly. “Things are coming back up to the surface that I didn’t know were buried, things I thought I’d lost and would never get back, and yet you came in and brush the dust off of everything, like going into the attic in your childhood home and seeing all your long-forgotten memories, and things that made you smile.”

“Like what?”

He gave you a small smile, his eyes leaving your own to go up to the sky, and he let out a long breath. “Lots of things. I always wanted to see Italy, and the first time I went, it was to kill people. I didn’t get to do anything I wanted to do, so I think that might go pretty high up on the bucket list.”

“I always wanted to go to France.” You replied, and he nodded his head, sighs seeming to glaze over as he thought about it all, and he squeezed you in his arms, before sitting up and shaking his head clear of grass strands and stray dirt.

“Maybe our next road trip can be around Europe.”

“Our next one?” He nodded his head, standing up and brushing himself down before holding his hands out to you. Pulling you up to your feet, his eyes seemed to all but sparkle with mischief and cheek, and you freed up one hand from his to brush through his hair, watching as he picked grass and flowers from your own strands, before you were rolling up onto the tips of your toes to kiss his nose. It was adorable that he blushed when you did, and that his eyes fluttered his lips parting to let out a relieved breath and getting back as much affection in return to what he liked to dish out, but it was even more adorable that he was even thinking about another road trip.

You swiped up the bag when he let you go, packing up all of your rubbish and clearing it away and zipping it up, lifting it onto your back as your arms were pushed through the sleeves. “You want me to carry the bag?”

“Nope, I want you to carry me.” Your hands found his shoulders, propelling yourself up onto his back and your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs were around his waist. He let out a sudden laugh, bouncing you up a little further as large hands gripped at your thighs, before pulling you up a little more on his back. Your chin rested on his shoulder, letting him carry you as you began to navigate the rest of the trek.

The arrows guided you along, a fun and light mood hanging over you both as you went along, letting him bounce you and jostle you until you clung to him for dear life. He carried you for longer than you expected him to, before eventually letting you down when you insisted that if he didn’t he would hurt himself. You had flowers tucked into your hair and his picking them up and putting them back every time he shook them out with a scowl, before he’d resigned to letting you do so, only getting rid of them when the trees cleared and the campsite you had parked up at came back into place once again.

The walk back had been more than incredible, just as fantastic as the first half had been, and you made sure to get plenty of photos as you went. Pink was lining his skin now, over the tips of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, a little dryness coming along your own skin from where neither of you had remembered to apply sunscreen before setting off, but it was all worth it, the slightly sun-kissed patches would only serves as a reminder for the day you’d had.

The car was a welcome relief when you finally found it, though, because what had been a four-hour hike when you’d looked it up had been over six between the two of you, taking your time and watching as the sun had risen overhead and dipped back down on the other side. Your feet were aching and your toes felt pinched from the boots, and the second you had the door open and you were able to hop up into the passenger seat, you were kicking them off with a grunt.

They were dropped unceremoniously in the footwell with the bag, your body curling into the warm fabric of the passenger seat as it called out to you, a yawn making its presence known as it ripped free, undeterred when you covered it with your hand, the sun having left the car perfectly warm for you.

“The drive to Idaho is long, y’know. We have to go right around the mountains.”

You simply nodded, before reaching out to him, pulling him in closer with a fistful of his jumper, until he was bracing his hand on the top of the car and chuckling at your whines as you attempted to pull him even closer. “Take a nap with me first.”

“In the passenger seat?”

“Yeah. ‘S warm.” You rubbed at the spot, and he considered it for a second, before letting out a huff. It was awkward to navigate, his hands scooping up under you and moving you across to the driver’s seat from a second, before he was settling into the seat himself, and closing the door. Locking it up behind himself, you watched as the chair was tipped back until it was laying as far as it could with the other seats flattened behind it, and he situated himself comfortably.

Patting at his parted thighs, his eyes had closed, head tipped back comfortably, and you crawled across into his lap. Your back was to the door, leaning against it, and legs stretched across him to the seat you had just abandoned, calves pressing to the centre console. It was slightly uncomfortable, but all of it went out of the window when his arms closed around you, one hand tucking under the edge of your shirt to sit on your bare skin, as the other wrapped around you and held you in close to his body.

“Drive in a few hours?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” His voice was laced with sleep now, and it was lulling you into your own rest, unconsciousness beginning to take over, and you happily let it, Idaho calling out to you both after you’d taken a well-deserved nap together.

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