#so he scoffs!! loudly!! hoping daniel would back off but

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 12: Heaven in Hiding

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, stressed Stella, threatening a police officer(eh? I think? Technically lmao), I think this chapter is pretty tame?

* Word count: 4,711ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! This one is a longer one too, so thank you for sticking around. I think this is one of my favorite chapters so far.

Rip opened the door for Stella to the foreman’s lodge and quietly told her to make herself at home. She plopped her sleeping bag on the couch that was inside the door. She wasn’t particularly thrilled with having to sleep on it, but it was better than the floor again. Placing her backpack on the table next to the couch, she took off her coat and hung it by the door. Stella could feel Rip’s eyes on her. He must have been trying to figure out if she was going to have a breakdown.

She didn’t bother to stop what she was doing to look at him before she spoke. Opening the scrunch bag her sleeping bag was in, she said tiredly, “I’m fine, Rip.” With a bit of struggle, she wrestled the sleeping bag out. When he didn’t say anything in reply, she broke her focus to find him leaning against the kitchen counter. His arms crossed and his face stoic. Even with the stoicism she could tell he didn’t believe her. “What?” She asked, walking around the back of the couch and mirroring his posture.

He almost broke and let a smirk escape at her crossed arms and the cute little scrunch that had taken over her full round cheeks. Lloyd’s words of them being similar came back to him. He had to think about how he should approach this because he didn’t want her to get angry with him again and hightail it.

“How are you okay with this?”

“I mean, is it tragic? Absolutely.” Stella leaned her hands against the back of the couch. “But one thing y’all have taught me is don’t get stuck in the what ifs. So I’m trying not to. I’m just focusing on what we’re gonna do tomorrow with the sheriff.”

Rip removed his hat and set it down gently on the counter. When he turned back to Stella his eyebrows were raised. “We?”

Stella frowned quizzically at him. “Uh, yeah? We were both involved.”

He shook his head. “No, I don't think we’re gonna mention you.”

“But we can’t just throw you under the bus by yourself! They’re gonna see two sets of footprints, two sets of hoof prints. It was my rope that was used, and I don’t have any sort of alibi, not to mention my finger prints are on your rifle,” she counted all the reasons on her fingers. “How could we keep my involvement a secret? Especially when the feds are probably getting brought in? Killing that bear was a federal offense. Self defense or not.”

He breathed out loudly, almost like a scoff. “You’re overthinking it. You’re brother and Colby, hell any of the wranglers would lie for you in a heartbeat. Hell, we could even get Kayce to say something. I’ll go up the mountain with John early before the sheriff gets here. We’ll take care of second tracks.”

“Someone has to think about it, Rip! You’re acting like we didn’t just witness people die and then kill a federally protected species! And I will not have someone else put their ass on the line for me for nothing.”

“Well we all would. And that’s because we didn’t do anything. It was all me.”

“You realize I’m not going to let you take the fall alone, right?”

“I’ll hide the horses.”

“You think that’ll stop me? We have four wheelers.” She straightened herself but kept her arms crossed. “Hell, I’ll sneak out early and walk up there before y’all even open your eyes.”

Rip bit his tongue. He knew he was walking in thin ice. “Alright, how about this?” He stepped closer to her. He figured he would take both of their opinions out of the equation. Stella looked at the floor, expecting to be scolded like a child. “We’ll let John decide in the morning and whatever he says, goes.”

She snapped her head up at him, taken aback that he was being patient with her. The way things had been between them the past few days had been rough. She automatically expected the worst. She uncrossed her arms and stood up straight and pushed her lenses back up her nose. “Does this mean we’re good now? You’ve got whatever gross out about me being friends with Kayce?”

It was a loaded question, but Rip understood why she asked. Whatever qualms he had with Kayce didn’t have anything to do with her. He knew she was smart enough to deal with whatever Kayce brought her way.

Stella continued with a smile gracing her lips. “Because you remember saying something about getting me into all kinds of shit or whatever?”

Rip had a feeling he knew where this was going, but nodded anyhow.

“Well who’s done it now?” She locked innocent but mischievous eyes with him.

He smacked his lips at her and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. Stella giggled and stepped backward. “Alright Stella-belle. Go on and get to bed. We’ve got an early morning. I’m takin’ the couch and your sleeping bag as a blanket.”

She made a noise, about to complain, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to fuck the good vibe that was between them again. “Yessir,” she gave him a mock salute and strolled to the bedroom of the lodge.

Once in there she took a moment to herself. The last time she had been in here, she had been waking Lee up because he uncharacteristically overslept. That made the room heavy. It was almost like Lee was here. She wasn’t exactly sure where she stood on the whole ghost thing, but she wouldn’t mind if he did visit her.

Stella went to the lamp that was beside the bed and turned it on to brighten the room. The bun that sat atop her head started to hurt. Her glasses came off, she laid them down on the small bedside table, and unwrapped the scrunchie letting her hair fall around her shoulders. She swiped her hair to the left and realized she wanted out of the jeans she was in. She poked her head out of the bedroom door to see Rip sitting on the couch in quiet contemplation. Leaning on the door jamb she cleared her throat.

Rip’s head swiveled in her direction. He swallowed, not used to seeing her with her hair down or without her glasses. She looked soft and feminine to him, not the scrappy spitfire he was used to seeing. “Yeah?”

“Do you have sweatpants or something I could borrow? I’m tired of these jeans.”

He jumped up off the couch. “Oh yeah, let me get them for you.”

She laughed. “I can get them, Wheelie. Just tell me where they are.”

He stopped short. It had been a long time since she had called him that. He grinned affectionately at her. “Top left drawer of the short dresser.”

A small smile adorned her cheeks. “Thank you,” she mumbled quietly and turned around to go find the offered pants. She found the drawer and pulled the first pair of pants out, quickly slipping out of the offensive jeans and into the much comfier pajama pants.

She walked back to the door and watched Rip get the couch ready to lay down on. He unzipped her sleeping bag and flopped it out to use as a blanket. A soft smile came across her face and leaned her head against the doorway. Even though she wanted to strangle him for the last few days, she really was grateful for his existence in her life. One thing she knew she could always count on was the feeling of safety in his presence. She was so stuck in her own head, she hadn’t noticed him looking at her when he was finished.

His voice came through, sounding like it was in a tunnel as it brought her back to the present. “Stella? Is everything okay?” He took in her comfy appearance and noticed she had chosen his favorite pair of sleep pants.

“Uh, yeah. Everything is okay. I just wanted to say I found the pants and make sure you didn’t need anything else before I laid down.”

“I’m alright Stella-belle. You sleep good, alright?”

Stella smiled and turned around to head to the bed.

The alarm Stella had set for 4:00 am went off quietly under her head in the pillow. She wasn’t going to let Rip get to John first and convince him that she shouldn’t be involved. So she was going to get there first. As quiet as she could in this creaky bedroom, she got up, grabbed her glasses, and creeped out to the door to devise a plan to get to her back pack. It was, unfortunately, still on the table right by a slumbering Rip’s head. Standing at the door she watched him carefully to make sure he was still sleeping. It wasn’t often that she had seen him peaceful. She decided it was a good look for him. There was a slim to none chance of making it happen while he was awake. Unless he was with Beth.

She tiptoed from the bedroom door and around the back of the couch. Halfway around the couch Rip groaned and changed position. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes closed, shoulders tensed, and jaw clenched. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. A sigh escaped his lips as he got comfortable and fell back into his snoozing. Stella let out a slow breath that she had been holding. She continued around the side of the couch, and reached out to grab her back pack.

With a quick and quiet snatch, she padded her way back to the bedroom. “All this for the pair of clean underwear in this bag,” she muttered, annoyed at herself. She opened the bag and dug around to find the emergency pair she always carried. Finding it, she gave a quiet ha and changed back into her jeans from the day before. She thanked the gods above that her boots were in here, but had second thoughts of putting them on until she got out outside.

She looked at her bag and decided it would be safe here until they were done later. Picking up her boots, she inched her way out into the living room again. She stopped briefly when she noticed Rip was in a different position. Her eyes squinted in suspicion, worried that he might be waking up. This was about the usual time he started his day.

Carefully, she snuck back around the couch and grabbed her jacket. A swift movement brought the jacket over her shoulders and she slipped her arms through. She put her hand on the door knob and turned it, but it rattled louder than any alarm. The sound was way louder than she intended. A grimace took over and she looked one more time over her shoulder at the sleeping foreman. “Sleep tight,” she murmured.

Hurriedly she closed the door behind her as softly as possible and made her way to the end of the front walkway. Throwing on her boots, she sped off to her car. There was a back road that led up the mountain near that cliff. She would beat them all to the punch.

When she was almost to the barn where she had parked, she slowed her gait to a walk to catch her breath. She loved sneaking but also hated the adrenaline rush that came with it.

Stella made it to her car with a smug smile on her face. She reached out for the door handle. She pulled it rapidly but footsteps rushed up on her from behind. The door snapped closed out of her hand. She gasped and spun on her heel to confront the offender. Her face was in the person’s chest. Leaning back against her car she looked up. It was Rip and he was way too close to her.

“What’re ya doin’, Stella?” He looked down the bridge of his nose at her. The deadpan look on his face and the fact that she’d been caught red handed trying to escape had her mouth hanging open. The two of them huffed lightly in each other’s faces.

“Uh,” Stella struggled to find words, “um.” She swallowed thickly. “I was just coming out to,” her sentence cut short as Rip leaned closer and trapped her against her car with his arms on either side of her. She couldn’t breathe.

He smirked. Amused that he was able to catch her off guard and used it to his advantage. “To what?”

Stella remained speechless. She didn’t have any excuse to give to him.

He called her out, maintaining direct eye contact. “You thought you were gonna be slick and head up the mountain before everyone else so you wouldn’t be told no, huh? What happened to letting Mr. Dutton decide?”

Stella made a groan of complaint relaxing back against her car. She angled her face up at him trying to adjust for the annoyingly close proximity. “I just don’t see how we can logically lie me outta this, Rip.” She admitted in a soft voice. Her hand wound its way up to push her hair out of her face. Her mouth felt dry at being trapped. “Can you back up? I’m not gonna run.” He slowly dropped back a few inches just in case she decided to dart away. It was far enough back that she didn’t feel trapped anymore. “Thank you.” The words were soft when they came out.

“Miss Stella-belle. Always trying to do the right thing.” He chuckled. He grabbed her in a quick hug. “How’d we get so lucky to have heaven in hiding with us?”

Her eyebrows crinkled as Rip pulled away. She tilted her head to the left. “Rip, are you drunk?” She had only ever heard him talk about Beth like that. “I think you need to go back to bed.”

“No, I’m not drunk. Just seeing things in a different light.”

“Okay there, enlightened one.” She patted his chest, trying to get him to back up a few more inches. “Listen, you caught me okay? I’ll wait until he gets here.”

Rip breathed out and backed up. “Alright, I’m trusting you. I’m gonna go get my hat.” He took a few steps backwards and pointed to her, still keeping eye contact. “Don’t make me regret it.”

When he turned around, Stella sagged back in her car again. She was overwhelmed at all the emotions that swirled in her head about the whole situation. “Hellfire.” She breathed out.

Around her the sounds of the ranch coming to life for the day took over the silence. Off to her right she watched as Lloyd, her brother, and the rest of the wranglers filed out of the bunkhouse and toward the barn. None of them, except Lloyd, looked like they were awake yet. She smiled at the sleepy stumble they made.

From behind her car, she heard gravel crunch underneath tires. It caught her attention and she turned to look. John pulled up in his truck. He lumbered out of the tall vehicle. Making his way to Stella he took in the small smile that hung around her mouth. He was glad she was content here, but if they couldn’t convince the sheriff and fish and game what happened was the truth… things wouldn’t be so lovely in a few days.

“Stella, you’re to stay here.” John instructed, interrupting her moment of peace.

Her mouth dropped open with a scoff. “Excuse me?”

Rip added as he stepped up behind them, “she’s bound and determined to be involved.”

“Damn it, that’s because I was involved!” Stella turned and gave John a pleading look.

“I told her she’s overthinking it, sir.” Rip said.

Stella snorted. “Yeah and clearly someone has to because it appears no one has thought that far ahead. Except maybe Jamie if he’s aware of the problem.” She breathed out harshly, collecting herself before she fired off. “Sir, just listen to me for a second.” John waved her to continue.

“The feds are most certainly getting involved. If they see any kind of tampering, which they would pick up on no matter how good we did it, Rip would be tossed even further under the bus.”

She locked eyes with John. “Like I told Rip last night; they’re gonna see two sets of footprints, hoofprints, it was my rope that was used and his rope is still attached to his saddle. I don’t have an alibi and he needs someone else to back up his word about what actually happened! Not to mention my fingerprints are on his rifle and my DNA is on the rope.” John remained quiet as he waited for her to finish. “And I’ll be damned if someone takes the fall for something that I also had a part in and I have no repercussions. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

John’s hands were in his pockets and Rip placed his hands on his hips when she came to the end of her rant. Each of them for different reasons, but fair reasons nonetheless. John didn’t want her to be in this tight spot, but as he listened to her reasoning he couldn’t deny that she made a good point. Rip was flustered at Stella throwing herself on the tracks for him and everyone she cared about.

“So I say I go.” Stella looked over at the wranglers warming up the horses in the round arena, put her hands in her jacket pockets, and sniffed; the cold making her nose run. She wasn’t sure what had changed in the last few weeks, but she was starting to get tired of the back and forth and constantly having to argue with people.

John cleared his throat. If being involved in the deeper side of things on the ranch is what she wanted, that’s what he would give her. “Okay Stella, you go, but you follow my every direction. Let’s load up on the horses.”

Stella spun on her heels and went to get Abigail ready before either of the men could change their minds.

The ride up the back road started to feel like it would never end. Every step the horses took almost elongated the trail even further. Things between the three of them had been silent the entire way. She zoned out in front of her and Abigail and tried to pass the time by imagining how the meeting with the sheriff would turn out.

John cleared his throat, slowing his horse's gait. “You sure you don’t want to back out now?” He glanced at Stella, eyebrows raised in suggestion. “Because you can turn back here.”

Stella scowled at John. “Damn it, yes, I’m sure. Whatever comes, we’ll work the problem and that’s that.” She heard Rip suck his teeth at her answer. She knew he was hoping for a different reply. “Look Rip, you can be pissed all you want. All I have to say is tough shit homeboy.”

John had to turn his head to the side to avoid his smile being seen. He was glad that his daughter wasn’t the only one giving his foreman a run for his money. He made the right decision to keep her around. That made his mind up. She would come out of this just fine.

They trotted up and the sheriff and his team were already here. John turned to Stella and Rip. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t give too many details. Bare minimum unless I say otherwise.” It was mostly a warning for Stella because Rip already knew how things went.

Stella nodded with a mock salute. “Yessir.”

John was the first off of his horse. He slowly made his way over to the sheriff. Rip got down and grabbed Stella’s reins. She frowned for a second, but recovered her face to neutral when Rip held out a hand for her to use to dismount. ‘What the actual?’ Stella questioned herself. Rip shook his hand at her telling her to get a move on and take his hand. She grabbed it carefully and swung her leg over, using his hand like a springboard to catch her weight as she hopped off of Abigail. There was a quiet breath of sound that left Rip’s mouth as he supported her jump.

Her feet hit the ground with a solid thud. “You know I could’ve gotten down just fine right?” She looked up at Rip underneath the brim of his hat, since they were still hidden by the large mare. Instead of dignifying her objection with a verbal response he clucked at her and wound his arm around her placing his hand in the small of her back, effectively turning her toward the problem at hand. He led her up to stand next to their boss who was at that cursed tree next to the cliff.

When the duo got closer to the cliff, Rip could feel Stella tense through his hand still on her lower back. Her feet stopped abruptly, not wanting to go any further. He rubbed his hand against her shoulders to reassure her that she was safe. Stella breathed out willing her feet to quit sticking to the ground.

John looked over the edge at the people bringing up the tourists. Rip placed Stella in between himself and the tree behind John. He wanted to hide her from the view of the police. He didn’t want her to be here at all if he was fully transparent with himself.

Stella wasn’t exactly thrilled at being that close to the edge. She’d almost fallen to the same fate of the tourists if it wouldn’t have been for Rip gripping her up. She was fine standing back in the shadows for the time being though. She couldn’t believe she had actually convinced John that she should be involved. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what steps to take next. She didn’t think she would have gotten this far.

“What a fuckin' mess, John.” Sheriff Donnie Haskell announced looking disappointed.

“You'd think these tourists would learn the wilderness isn't a theme park.” John said as he paced over to Donnie. Stella followed Rip’s lead and hung back by the tree.

“That's not what I'm talking about.” He motioned to the bear. “I'm talking about that.” Stella grimaced at the memory. Brown bears and grizzly bears were her favorite animals besides horses. It hurt that Rip had to do what he did, but they would be human pâté if he hadn’t.

Donnie continued. “Now I gotta get an agent up here from Fish and Wildlife. That's a federal offense. What's the ETA on Wildlife?” Stella had to hide the smirk that wanted to appear at having someone else tell John and Rip the same thing she did.

“Said a few hours.” One of the other officers answered from a few feet away.

John went in on the defense quickly. “It was self-defense, Donnie. Let's not overreact here.”

“They’re out here looking for a bear you told them to hunt.” Donnie fired back.

Rip leaned back against the tree and looked at the ground. Stella was feeling like they were in the principal’s office. She made sure the second part of the tree trunk was behind her and rested back on it and angled her body toward Rip. She couldn’t help herself and leaned against his shoulder for some safety. He put his arm around her shoulders and he gave them a squeeze. He knew she was out of her element, but he wanted her to know neither John nor himself would steer her wrong here.

“I told them to haze it out of here before it killed my cattle.”

“Here's the picture Fish and Wildlife are gonna paint. They are up here hunting illegally, kill an endangered species.”

Rip turned and let Stella go as he blew out a breath. He was getting angry at what the sheriff had to say. Stella tried to quietly keep him from exploding.

“Witnessed by two tourists that they then throw off the fucking cliff. Then he gives me some bullshit story about throwing them a rope… And both of them, John, both of them slip.”

Stella’s blood pumped through her ears like a drum beat. “It was actually me who threw them the rope. It’s missing from my saddle. You can check. And everything we’ve told you is true.”

“We’ll see about that, Stella.” Donnie’s voice foreboding.

“I'm calling Jamie.” John determined.

“You're gonna need him.”

John pulled out his phone “Jamie. I got a real problem, and you're not here to fix it. Call me back.”

“Look at me Rip.” He leaned to face her fully. “Everything is fine. We’re gonna be okay.”

“It doesn’t help that Haskell is being a prick about it.”

“I get it, I do. But the problem is, this is a huge fuck up. On our part, on his part, and he’s probably pissed he’s gotta fill out a bunch of paperwork.”

He gazed down at her speechless at her ability to stay lighthearted when the situation was far from it. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. Placing a solid kiss on the top of her head to let her know the message was received. He let her go just as quickly as he had grabbed her. Stella didn’t even have time to open her eyes before he backed up a few inches.

John marched over to the pair. “They're gonna make a real stink out of this.”

“That's what I get for trying to do the right thing. I should've just buried them all.” Rip sounded defeated. Like he had already accepted the fate of going down for this.

“Hey knock it off. What’s done is done and you were trying to do it right.” Stella nudged his arm.

John stepped away to the space in between her and Rip. “Where were you standing, Rip?”

“Both of us were right here. Stella scooted back a bit when the bear charged, but we were both right here.” He pointed to the animal. “I mean, if that ain't self-defense, I don't know what is.”

“If that's where you were really standing.”

At the same time Stella and Rip went in on the sheriff.

“Hey, Donnie!” Rip started.

Stella shouted. “Oh come off it!”

Rip stalked over to Donnie. “There's powder burns on his fucking nose, man. Why don't you do your job?”

Stella placed herself in between the sheriff and Rip. “After the tourists fell, the bear came up over the hill. It gave a warning stomp once, then charged. It gave no time for adjustment. At all. You’d be an idiot to not know that was self defense!” Stella put herself in Donnie’s face.

Donnie looked down at Stella unthreatened. “John, you better calm your attack dog and attack dog in training down here, or we're gonna have this conversation in town.”

Rip witnessed Stella’s fist ball up and knew she was about to crank that Soulja Boy back to let a solid punch fly. She stepped backward to brace herself to throw the punch. Rip grabbed her hand and forced her fingers to interlock with his. They didn’t need her catching a charge for assaulting a police officer.

“Rip, Stella. Go to the house and wait for Fish and Wildlife.” John called them off.

Rip pulled Stella away from Donnie with their still interlocked hands. He pushed her in front of him and forced her away from the problem and to her horse. Rip sniffed indignantly at Donnie and trailed after Stella. They briskly walked past John, to which the foreman and ranch owner shared a look.

John came up to the sheriff. “I got enough problems without you inventing more for me.”

Sheriff Donnie scoffed. “Look, John, somebody kills a bear, and ten thousand vegans send letters to their Congressman. They won't send one goddamn letter for those tourists.” He raised his voice when John walked away. “Now you should have buried that thing in a hole before I got here, 'cause I ain't the problem, the Feds are.”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic #rip wheeler #john dutton

[firstgreen]

#post-'84 all valley daniel and johnny who aren't really rivals but acquaintances who steal glances in the hallways at most #who one day just out of bad luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time #get into detention with a bunch of other classmates for *their* prank gone wrong #johnny who for weeks after the tournament has been minding his own business #suddenly having a whole daniel larusso out of nowhere squeezing between him and the wall #wiping the paint in a circular motion and what? is this? #because this doesnt make any sense cause they're Not friends and it's weird and they're supposed to stay away from each other but #daniel's chuckling softly too and looks back at him with a small smile and johnny's supposed to be annoyed #so he scoffs!! loudly!! hoping daniel would back off but #well #he just ends up hovering over him before daniel pokes at him: #'you gonna help me or what?' #and johnny's SO annoyed because who does that like whooo does this #he's gonna leave bcause this is stupid he doesn't deserve this detention in the first place anyway #but its weird everything is so WEIRD because instead of leaving he just...cleans..with daniel...... #sorry for this ANEEWAYS 80s lawrusso you will always be famous #william zabka #ralph macchio #cobra kai #the karate kid #lawrusso #* #stuff

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark drabbles

[twomoonstwosuns]

surprise.

pairing: pedro pascal x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, nothing explicit

word count: 2.4k

a/n: a little belated, but very obviously inspired by pedro’s birthday last week. i really hope i did this right, this is my first time posting anything i’ve written on tumblr. i really really hope you enjoy it but if you don’t please don’t be harsh. if anyone has advice or knowledge for posting on tumblr they’d like to share that would be really amazing :)

i hope everyone is staying healthy and safe and keeping their mental health in check. we’re all in this together and we’ll come out strong on the other side. my inbox is always open if anyone needs to talk :)

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“Baby, the dishes can wait ‘til the morning.”

You were at a crossroad: do the dishes now and not have to worry about anything except a lazy morning with your boyfriend, or do them in the morning and see what kind of nighttime activities you and your boyfriend could get into.

After a busy day, Pedro was all yours again.

The morning of his birthday started with making him breakfast in bed, a task you had gotten distracted from when Pedro walked into the kitchen in nothing but his briefs and pressed salacious kisses to your neck while his hands made their way underneath your pajamas. Eventually you made it back to bed with breakfast, but the sweet taste of berries as you traded kisses soon ended up with you in his lap and empty breakfast dishes falling to the floor as the bed moved.

You sent him out in the afternoon with Oscar and his wife Elvira, claiming you couldn’t join them for a late lunch because you had to do a couple of things for work. Instead you went and picked up everything you had stashed at a friend’s house for the surprise party you were throwing for Pedro; food and drinks and decorations. You had set up trays of food and non-alcoholic beverages on tables and set up two makeshift bars in your living room – one with beer and hard liquor and the other a Jack Daniels whiskey bar. You knew Pedro would get a kick out of that.

The surprise went off without a hitch. Oscar and Elvira had brought Pedro back to the apartment right on time and the look on his face at the sight of thirty of his closest friends and family showed he was completely oblivious to your plan. He found you immediately, pressing a kiss to your lips and wrapping an arm around your waist as he made his way into the apartment. He greeted everyone, thanked him or her for coming and asking how they’d been doing. And then the party really got started.

Conversation flowed, food was eaten, and a lot of alcohol was consumed. Someone had tried to get people dancing, but everyone was too caught up to care. The air was cool, as it typically was in April in New York, but that didn’t stop people from going out to the balcony to enjoy the view of the skyline on the river. You, ever the host, made your way around the party, seeing if anyone needed anything and stopping to catch up with people you hadn’t seen in awhile and people you’d seen just a few days ago.

Wherever you went, you found yourself occasionally glancing around at your boyfriend. Whether you wanted to know what he was up to or just wanted to admire him from afar, your heart swelled whenever you saw Pedro laugh. You felt his eyes on you several times throughout the evening as well, and you shot him a flirty smile whenever you caught him.

His eyes would even be on you as you stood next to him, chatting away with his friends. He would glance down at you as you stood by his side and listened intently at a story you had heard a thousand times before. He stared at you with a soft and loving smile as you and your guests sang ‘happy birthday’ to him. You smile widely in return, mouthing ‘I love you’ as he blew out his candles with a subtle wink.

He adored you. You adored him. And after having to share him for the evening with his family and friends, you were happy to finally have him all to yourself.And showing him for the third time that day just how much you adored him sounded much more appealing than cleaning.

The dishes could wait until the morning.

Pedro gently pulled your hand, bringing you forward as he walked backwards towards your bedroom. You swung the door shut behind you and were immediately pulled into Pedro’s arms. He drew you into a deep kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured as he pulled away, his lips hovering over yours close enough where you could feel the words he was saying. “Every part of it was perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You said, pulling back slightly to cup his face in your hands and looking into the sparkling brown eyes on the other side of his clear-rimmed glasses. “You deserve it.”

Pedro smiled and placed his forehead against yours for a few seconds before letting you go to get ready for bed. You both moved seamlessly around each other as you readied for bed – one brushed their teeth while the other undressed and then you switched. Domesticity was a good look for your relationship.

“You were surprised, right?” You asked, walking up to the bed. “Or did you totally know? Because you looked surprised but you’re also an actor.”

Pedro shook his head as he climbed into your shared bed, but the humorous look he gave you made you think otherwise.

“What’s that look f—did Oscar tell you?” You crossed your arms over your chest with a half smile and a scoff. “He did, didn’t he? I bet El $20 that he’d blab—“

Pedro’s laugh interrupted you.

“No, I was surprised. How did you keep it a secret?”

You shrugged with a smirk on your face.

“Very careful planning and timing. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

Pedro extended his arm, an open invitation for you to join him. After turning off the light you did just that, settling in next to him against the headboard, your entire right side pressed against his left, one of your bare legs draped over his clothed one, and his arm around your shoulder, neither of you quite ready to sleep.

“Do you remember when we met?” Pedro asked seemingly out of nowhere, his fingers now combing through your hair. “When you stole my coffee?”

You scoffed, but still had a smile on your face.

“You stole my coffee too,” you said, poking him in the stomach.

“But you grabbed my cup first.”

“They don’t write anything on the cups to differentiate them, how was I supposed to know it was yours until I opened it to put sugar in?” You argued playfully, lacing your fingers with his. This conversation, no matter if you were dishing it out yourselves or trying to tell people the story of how you met, always ended up with playful banter. “Also, I’m pretty sure we both grabbed the cups at the same time.”

“I still think you did it on purpose.”

“Uh huh, and why would I have done that? You know I don’t mess around when it comes to my morning coffee.”

“I don’t know but it got you to talk to me, didn’t it?”

“You flirted with me first, though.”

“That is a fact.” Pedro said, kissing the top of your head. “I’m glad you thought that was flirting.”

“I thought you were so charming. That’s why you walked out of that coffee shop with my phone number. Whatever you thought it was clearly worked because you’ve got me.”

Pedro sighed contently and you knew there was more on his mind by the way he inhaled, paused and opened his mouth, like he had something more to say. But he said nothing.

“What’s up?” You asked, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

Pedro pressed a kiss to your temple and leaned his head against yours, taking a deep breath.

“My stolen coffee.” You laughed loudly and you felt Pedro move with laughter beneath you. You had seriously considered calling the coffee shop to thank them for not writing your name on the coffee cup. “And also you.”

You cuddled into his side, but a quick squeeze of your shoulder and him pulling away made you turn to look at him with a furrowed brow. You were confused; everything was lighthearted and affectionate up until now. The look on his face was almost serious, but he still looked at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. Which is why you still had a little bit of a smile across your face.  

“You ok?”

Pedro ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just the way you liked it.

“I wanted to have this big speech prepared when I did this,” Pedro said, grabbing your hand, squeezing it and caressing his thumb across the back of it. “But I realized tonight, with everything you did to make my birthday special that I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest when you realized what was happening. Pedro reached behind him into the bedside drawer and pulled out a box. He held it in the palm of his hand and you stared at it as tears gathered in your eyes.

“I love you. So much. All of my best memories from this past year have been with you and I want a million more. You put up with my weirdness, my goofy faces, my questionable fashion choices, and my awesome dances moves—“

You let out a watery laugh and nodded in agreement. All those things were true, and you loved every single one of them. And Pedro smiled with you because he knew.

“And most of all you know all of my quirks, my habits, and my insecurities…and you still love me.” Pedro’s tone turned serious and you saw his eyes get a little glossy. You knew he struggled with insecurities like everyone else, but being an actor put people’s opinions of him in the public eye and it wasn’t always easy to avoid the comments they made. He had opened up to you about them, and you told him you loved every part of him, more for you to love for yourself.

“You’re the one I want to spend all of my birthdays with.”

Pedro opened the box and you gaped at the ring inside, a tear sliding down your cheek. A single round diamond sat centered on a thin silver band. It was simple and classic. It was you.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you said without pause like it was obvious, and it was. You looked from the ring to Pedro’s face. “A million times yes.”

A wide smile spread across his face; the one that made his eyes light up and crinkle at the edges. The smile you fell head over heels in love with. You smiled back, a happy laugh escaping your lips. Pedro wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that made you feel butterflies in your stomach and left your eyes closed for a couple of seconds after he pulled away. When your eyes finally opened again, you saw Pedro looking at you with all the love and adoration in the world. You’d seen that look from him multiple times when you were together and it melted your heart every time.

He pulled you into him, halfway into his lap, a tangle of limbs where no one could tell who was who. Pedro slid the ring on your finger. A perfect fit. He kept your hand grasped in his, the both of you staring at your ring as if it weren’t real.

“I don’t—“ you murmured, shaking your head and looking up from your hand to Pedro’s eyes. Your fiancé’s eyes. You gently pushed his messy hair back from his face. “I don’t know what to say that can express how happy you make me. I love you. With all my heart. God, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. It sounds cheesy and cliché, I know, but it’s true.”

Pedro wiped the remnants of your happy tears away before pushing your own hair back behind your ear.

“But you know all the surprises were supposed to be for you today, right?”

Pedro gave you a look as he wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you suddenly onto your back, smiling at your laughter as he hovered over you, the ring box bouncing off of the bed.

“That may be, but having you as my wife and my partner and my best friend for the rest of my life is the best birthday present I could ever have. So if I needed to surprise you to do that, then so be it.”

You brought your head up to kiss Pedro, your tongue slipping into his mouth as your hands moving down his waist to bring his shirt up. He tossed it aside and brought his lips down to your stomach, placing soft kisses up to your chest as he moved your shirt up with it.

You may not have had the words to describe how happy and excited you were to be Pedro’s for the rest of your lives, but you knew exactly how you could show him. And as you removed each other’s clothes, Pedro stopping only to place a kiss on your ring finger, the band cool against his lips, you allowed one fleeting thought to pass through your mind:

You were glad you decided to ignore the dishes. 

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fluff #surprise oneshot #pedro pascal fic #fanfiction

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Four

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, heartbreak, angst, a little bit of infidelity (it doesn’t get that far but if this triggering to you, kindly don’t read.) A little bit of Jealousy. 

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only.

Word Count: 2,552 words

Read Chapter Three here!!

A/n: Sry for the delay, guys!! There are some things going on in my school that I’ll post about later. Happy reading : )

***

(Gif isn’t mine!! I don’t even- how can one human being be so fucking beautiful? I’m-)

The car ride to the mall was rigid. 

You spent it looking out the window, earbuds secured on, music loud. You started fiddling with your fingers and trying your damn hardest to block out Cassidy leaning over every two seconds to kiss Chris. 

It was Cassidy’s car and the smell of perfume was almost overwhelming. She was obnoxiously neat, not a single crumb in between the cushions of her leather seats. 

Sighing, you turn the volume up. I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys thrums strongly in your ears and you try to let Alex Turner’s voice distract you from the secret smiles Chris and Cassidy share every five seconds. 

You press your forehead against the cold car window, lips pursing. 

You didn’t think this would be so hard to bear through. You knew you weren’t entirely over him, but you hadn’t expected it to hurt this much to see him with another woman. 

Such bullshit. 

You just wish you could-

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

You've abruptly tugged away from your thoughts as your phone rings loudly from your short pocket.

Quickly glancing up, you notice Cassidy is looking at you and Chris’ eyes peer at you from the rearview mirror.  

“Sorry.” You look away, tugging your phone out, unplugging your earbuds, and answering without looking at who was calling you.

“Hello?”

“Babe?” 

You freeze, biting your lips hard. “Daniel?” 

You practically feel when Chris’ gaze snaps towards you and you only bite your lip harder. 

“Babe!” You hold back the urge to cringe at how loud he is. 

“Hey baby,” you mumble back softly, happy to hear his voice despite everything. 

 “How are you? How’s dad? How’s everything?” His questions bombard you, one after the other.

You can’t help but snort. “Dad?”

“Yeah...I can call him that right?” You can almost see him shrugging shyly in that Daniel manner. 

You ponder on it for a while, accidentally catching Chris’ eye. You don’t know why, but you hold his gaze as you answer your boyfriend. 

“Yeah sure. He’ll be your dad too, soon enough.” 

Oh, God. As soon as you say it, you regret it. Chris clenches his jaw and looks away instantly. You keep looking at him though, trying to decipher what that meant. 

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” He replies cheekily. 

You laugh, jesting back. “I don’t know. Am I?” 

“God, I hope you are,” he breathes. 

You can’t help it when you blush. “Really?”

He sighs. “Hey I know we’ve had our rough patches, but I love you Y/n. So much.”

You know he’s referring to your fight and because you just know him so well you also know that this is his way of apologizing to you. 

You smile softly. “And I love you.”

He laughs lightly, relieved. “Good.”

“Also, everything’s fine. I’m actually headed to buy a dress for the wedding right now.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I wish I could be there to see you.”

You smirk to yourself. “Do you, now?”

You don’t notice when you near the mall, too lost in your conversation with Daniel and how utterly satisfying Chris’ squirming was. 

“Yes I do,” his voice turns sultry. “Red looks so fucking good on you.” 

You giggle at his throaty groan. “Red it is then.”

He groans harder. “Jesus, Y/n.” 

You laugh even more. “Don’t worry babe I’ll send you pic-”

“We’re here.” Chris’ voice roughly cuts through your phonecall. You look up at him. 

He looks utterly irritated as he taps his foot impatiently, jaw ticking as his eyes sear through you. 

“Cassidy’s already inside,” he mumbles roughly, clearly holding back the urge to growl.

“Hey baby,” you talk into the phone, never breaking eye contact with Chris. “I’ve gotta go. Call you tonight.”

He exhales sharply. “Send me pictures.”

You know Chris heard when his jaw clenches impossibly more and his nostrils flare. Another surge of satisfaction rushes through you and you bite your lip- like you can’t help but do so. 

“I’ll facetime you while I’m in bed. Love you.”

And then you crawl out of the car, brushing past a very annoyed Chris. 

Oh. This was gonna be fun. 

*

“Holy crap, this is so gorgeous, right babe?!” Cassidy holds up a long green dress for him to see. It was strapless and backless with intricate sequin work in the front. 

A bit too much for you, but probably gorgeous on Cassidy who you were sure could pull a sack of potatoes off.

He hums distractedly from behind you. “Mhm, it’s nice.”

You’d decided to go into town to the only mall for hours and Cassidy had suggested you go into a cute little boutique that dealt mostly with party dresses.

You flick through the dresses, not seeing anything eye-catching whatsoever. There were some red dresses but they were either too big or too simple. 

“I’m gonna go try it on,” she squeals, seemingly unaware of her boyfriend’s disinterest in her dress as she heads into a dressing room in the far end of the boutique. 

You move on down, brow furrowed as you look deeper into the racks.

Almost twenty minutes pass and you still haven’t found anything. You’re about to throw the towel when-

“Try this one,” his voice is deep as he holds a blood-red dress in front of you. What the hell?

You peer up at him, shocked. “Where’d you find it?”

“Just try it on,” he murmurs, firmly pushing it into your arms. You blink at him once before nodding slowly, making your way to the dressing room nearest to you. 

Reluctantly, you peel your clothes off and tug on the red dress. Resolving not to think about what any of that meant, you pull the zipper up as far as you can. 

“Shit,” you curse loudly, bending your elbow further. 

“What happened?” he calls from outside the dressing room. 

You frown. “I can’t zip up the dress. Could you maybe get an employee to- what the shit?” you screech as he suddenly pulls the door open and steps into the tiny dressing room with you, closing it behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hiss lowly, your heart already starting to race. 

He sighs, gaze meeting yours in the mirror. A tingle travels through your spine and you swallow thickly. 

“I’m zipping your dress, sweetheart,” he replies as if it’s obvious, hands already reaching out for you. 

“What? No!” You shriek incredulously, spinning around and backing away from his touch. 

He purses his lips, his demeanor all too calm. “It’s not a big deal. Really.” 

You scoff, face growing red with vexation. “Your girlfriend is only a few feet away. You can’t just come in here after we almost-”

“After we almost what?” He cuts you off briskly, stepping closer in the already-cramped dressing room. He tilts his head to the side- mocking you in a cynical way, you think. 

Your breath immediately hitches at his sudden shift in demeanor and you bite your lip lightly, watching him cautiously.

He continues, pretty blue eyes suddenly ablaze. “After we almost kissed yesterday? Is that it?”

Your face grows impossibly warmer and you don’t know if you’re pissed or embarrassed or both because he knew exactly what you meant and because the memory of that moment was almost too much to bear.

“Don’t. Don’t go there, Chris,” you warn almost too quietly to be anything other than a breathless beseech. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, and you honestly can tell if you hate or love it as he steps even closer to you, crowding you against the mirror. His gaze flickers to your lips and you can feel your stomach clench in sinful anticipation. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re powerless to him and he knows it, dammit. 

You look at him with desperation and he hopes he knows it’s the kind of desperation which is begging him not to do something both of you would lament later on. Something you’d feel guilty for but absolutely wouldn’t refuse because even as you beg him with your eyes not to kiss you, you ache for nothing more than to feel the warmth of his soft mouth on yours and the inquisitive yet desperate touch of his hands on your skin once again. 

 You need to stop this. Right now. Even if you don’t want to. Even if you can’t--you’ll have to be able to because neither of your partners deserved this. 

You’re stronger than this, Y/n, you think, readying a million things to say to him right now in your mind. 

A firm ‘stop’ or even ‘leave right now’ would be enough. A fire builds deep in your belly as you open your mouth to stop his arrogant ass right this instant. But a split-second before you’re about to speak, you make the grave mistake of looking into his eyes...and your resolve immediately dissolves. 

He looks so lost. So confused and vulnerable and conflicted. Like he doesn’t know what to do with all these emotions and your heart clenches in that way that you hated because you knew what it meant. It meant that your brain was losing all rationale and becoming a jumbled mess and you wouldn’t be in control anymore.

Your mouth snaps shut as he speaks, voice quiet. “I would’ve kissed you.”

At his shocking confession, you swallow audibly, your stupid pathetic foolish heart fluttering. 

“I would’ve kissed you”. So simple yet so effective in making you a puddle of emotions and conflict.

“I would’ve kissed you too,” you mutter to your insides, not having the courage to utter it out loud.

You shake your head, knowing you’re about to lie but needing to put some space between you and this situation. It was too much. “But I wouldn’t have kissed you back.”

A flicker of hurt flashes on his face before he instantly smirks, all traces of emotional vulnerability masterfully masked with sarcastic arrogance.  

He looks you directly in the eyes, face tilting just the tiniest bit so that it looked like he was gonna kiss you.  

Your heart immediately speeds up and your hands get sweaty as you tried not to think about how fucking addictive his kisses were and how much you missed them.

He peers up at you through his eyelashes with the damn sexiest look anyone’s ever given you and you swear to God if you don’t get him out right now you would give in and fuck him right here right now. 

“Really Y/n? Because I think,” as he continues speaking, his hand casually rises, the pads of his fingers barely brushing over your cheekbone as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You try to fight it off, you really do, but despite your every mental command, you instinctively tremble and lean into his hand, lips parting the slightest bit as your heart clenches with the sweetest pain. 

You wanted more of him. God, it hurt just how much you wanted all of him all the fucking time.

His dumb, arrogant smirk widens instantly with satisfaction and you grow angry. More with yourself than with him, truthfully. “...that if I hadn’t stopped, you  would’ve given yourself to me right there on that kitchen counter, sweeheart.” 

You freeze at his words, your distress very quickly morphing into anger. As your entire body flushed with humiliation, you fisted your hands, clenching them so hard your nails bit into the skin of your palms. 

Just who the hell did he think he was, saying shit like that? 

You cared not for the sharp fleeting pain as you glared up at him. “Shut up.”

“No,” he instantly responds, face suddenly turning serious. “I won’t shut up. You felt it too, you can’t deny it. What we’ve always felt-- it came back but stronger this time, right?” He looks into your eyes for confirmation even though you both knew that he didn’t need it.

You grow more and more anxious as he speaks because the accuracy is scary and because you hate yourself for it being that way.

“I felt nothing.” You look away, shrugging him off. 

He clenches his jaw. “So what? You’re just going to ignore this?”

You huff, looking up at him again. “There is nothing to ignore.”

He laughs out a scoff. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

You force your face to harden, stone-cold even though you felt like dying on the inside. “Let me make this very clear so that there are no future mishaps; there is nothing here, Chris.” You step up to him, pressing yourself to him challengingly. “And there never will be, so just stop and go back to your girlfriend.”

He doesn’t even flinch and his eyes make you feel so infuriatingly naked. He smiles dryly. 

“See, the thing is, the more you say that the less I believe you.”

Yeah, and the more he talks the more you feel like slapping him. And even as you refrain from doing so, the want to inflict pain on him grows and grows.

You wanted him to hurt. You wanted him to be in so much pain you-

You smile with sickly sweetness, tilting your head sideways. “See, the thing is, that I don’t really give a shit.” You need to put space between you desperately, so you step back a bit pressing against the cool mirror again.

“Leave, Chris. We’re not doing this,” you grit out through clenched teeth, barely restraining yourself from slapping him silly.

His jaw muscles tense and tick as you stare eachother down for a few more seconds, neither willing to back down. 

He finally yields, stiff expression melting into a nonchalant grin as he takes a few steps back. 

“You can lie to everyone else and yourself all you want miss Y/l/n, but at the end of the day, we both know we’re an inevitable disaster. We always have been and we always will be.”

He pauses just before leaving, glancing at you over his shoulder. “And uh- by the way, that dress? It’s the one.”

And then he walks out, leaving you a breathless, emotionally conflicted mess. 

*

You insist on walking home after the dresses are paid for. Cassidy ends up going for a different dress which looks, of course, frustratingly beautiful on her. 

“Are you sure?” she mumbles, gripping Chris’ hand. You avoid each other's gazes as much as possible.

You smile a bit sadly. “Pretty sure, but thanks for today.”

Not waiting for a response, you walk away.

*

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him, you chanted over and over again in your head. I hate him so fucking much.

You throw your bags onto the bed, unable to hold back a frustrated scream from escaping you. 

Thank god no one is home because if they heard the commotion in your room, they’d be asking too many questions.

How dare he? How dare he go into that dressing room and say stuff like that? That you were inevitable? That there was nothing either of you could do to stop this from happening? With exactly what right did he go in there and make you feel so fucking powerless?  

You know what? Fuck him. Fuck him and Cassidy and their pathetic little relationship. 

You weren’t that dumb, weak, pathetic little girl you used to be and he had no control over you. 

For some reason, you think saying it to yourself will somehow make it true. 

Feeling yourself flush with determination, you change into more comfortable clothes-- Daniel’s the 1975 t-shirt which fit you a bit tighter than Mr. Evans’ but was still a little too big on you and a pair of fuzzy socks. You pull your hair into a messy bun, uncaring of anything but this insatiable want to let off some steam steadily building inside you. 

You head downstairs and turn on the radio, grabbing a bottle of liquor from your father’s cabinet. 

You smirk to yourself as you open the bottle and take a swig. 

Just like good ol’ times.

Read Chapter Five Here!!

***

OOOH you already know what’s coming up, guys!!   Who’s ready for the most angsty fluffy read of their lives?

A Special Thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve​

@tomoyaevaans

@pepsicolailovedogs

@whereeverythingisbetter​

@fallenoutofrose​

@plutonium-m​​

@beepbeepromanoff​

@faithmichaluk​

@sincerelytlh​

@tomshelbystits​ 

@kind-sober-fullydressed​

@liatnisim

@sashimi-cat​

@zofty15​

@gemgemswift​

@fafulous​

@chljmntgy​

And My forevers!

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@lilypalmer1987​

@sammykb1994​

@tomshelbystits​ 

#Chris Evans #chris evans au #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #teacher x student #teacher!chris evans x student!reader #teacher au

[klaussicarus]

Day Eleven: Doctor

Hearing knocking at his door, Vlad felt a bit irritated, as he had just finished mixing cake batter and was about to pour it into the cake molds. Sighing he shifts back into human form and cracks his back, irritated that he had to use it, what with the incessant joint pain and slight aches everywhere. Anyways there was a guest at his door and it would be terrible if he were to take too long. He sets down his baking pans and shuffles off to the front door. Honestly he should get one of those mechanical gates that screened people before getting in. Peeking into the door's peephole he sighs and yanks it open, hoping that his guest would see how unwelcome he was and just leave. Unfortunately it never is that way.

"Daniel Fenton. Why are you here." No hellos, no pleasantries, Daniel was 23 now and besides the almost bi-yearly check up he deemed upon the aging halfa to make sure he was behaving, he never came by simply by the fact that neither particularly cared for each other anymore. Vlad had long since stopped with any nefarious planning, not after an incident in which Skulker had accidentally ripped off his leg and left him hobbling around unable to do daily tasks over 8 years ago and Danny had bigger problems to deal with. Vlad had an prosthetic now, but never really cared enough to get back into the thick of it, even with Daniel consistently gone into the ghost zone to help the residents reestablish a new form of government.

He's interrupted from his musings when Daniel clears his throat loudly, a look of nervousness hidden under a fake veneer of disinterest. "Ah, well, you remember my plans for NASA, correct?" His knee shifts from side to side. "Well it seems I need your help to pull a few strings." Daniel glances back at Vlad, his eyes's doing the nasty little thing where they flickered red and green very quickly, near impossible for a mere human to detect but an eyestrain and headache for anything else.

"Stop the firework show, Daniel. I'll see what I can do, but of course I'll get repayment in one way or another, just as everytime we make a deal." Danny scoffs and rolls his eyes, muttering little things to himself.

"Yes, and we will swear on our cores when we get to it too, because I will be entrusting you with several things during this visit." Vlad's eyebrow lifts up. 'Alright, well that seems interesting.' Letting Danny into his home he walks back to the kitchen so he could finish his cake. Danny knows better to touch anything and just leans against a cupboard well out of the way and starts his request.

"I ask for a forgery of anything that I'll need as a US citizen. Birth Certificates, Visa's, Medical records, everything. I don't need anything changed, so not really forgeries, I just need to have official papers." Vlad looks up in surprise,

"What?"

"Yeah, Mom and Dad dont have anything for me." He sighs in frustration, anger seeping into his sharp glare. "Apparently when I was a week old, Mom had accidentally thrown my birth certificate away, and they never went to get copies or clear up what happened. Instead they made the necessary vaccines at home to give me, and let me go hog wild. I don't exist in the eyes of the state apparently, and apparently my family have always been friends with the principals, so I've never been enrolled in any school technically." Frowning as he set the last pan into his oven's racks, he looks over at Danny. His face seems to be quietly seething.

"That seem's overly suspicious, what would your parents gain from hiding your official papers from you, it's not like-" He sucks in his breath as his brain clicks in the last puzzle piece. "Oh, Mother of Crocker Industries, they didn't! They wouldn't!" Danny unslouches in surprise. "They wouldn't what?" But Vlad couldn't hear him, only throwing any and all dates that he could together. Light citrus swirled through the air as one of the cakes baked faster than the others, to close to the inside wall.

"The reunion for my graduating class wasn't the first time I've seen your parents after my college and hospital days. In fact," he treaded lightly with his words, carefully watching Danny's face for reaction, "around 24 years ago, your Mother and Jack had broken up for a couple months before getting back together." Danny catches on and had a shocked and disgusted face, his eyes wildly changing colors.

"During this time, your mother had seeked me out in an attempt to reconnect. I had, reciprocated, before our fling ended just as quickly as it started." He shuffled his prosthetic back and forth, light clicking coming from the innermost mechanics. Something was probably falling apart in there.

"Months later your parents had seemed to have had finally gotten the boy they had wanted."

Danny looked up his eyes burning a red, begging for a fight, before a new low yellow took its place. Horrified he looked into Vlads face. Vlad didnt like the intensity in which he was staring at him so he shifted to the side, fingers tapping a rhythm onto the marble topped counter. After what felt like hours Daniel finally pulls back, the yellow tinting stronger than before. "You didn't know! They never told you!" His laugh was a barking hyena like laugh. "Oh my god, all of your ribbing for me to accept you as a father was almost a self fulfilled prophesy! Both my parents knew but never told me! Or one half of them anyways!" The smell of caramel wafted through the kitchen, slowly gaining a more and more burnt scent as the two ignored it. Danny slumped to the floor. His eyes reverting back to usual.

Dully he turned to Vlad, "Well might as well bring up that I wanted a health checkup once and for all anyways, might as well get a DNA swab at the same time." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "You might want to check on your Betty Crocker Fire Starter, before they actually gain some flames. I'll grab a spare med kit and grab some supplies from the hospital nearby, see you in a few, Doc." He phrases out of the house quickly. Flickers of yellow gold shining in his eyes again.

How would this effect his relationship with Vlad? Should he tell his Mom and not-Dad that him and Vlad found out? Did having Vlad's already halfa genes stop him from actually dying that day? What else had they kept secret? And how would he know what the proper etiquette for finding out that your retired ex-archnemisis was actually your Dad when you were in your early twenties?

#danny phantom #Dannymay2020 #dannymay #danny fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #fanart #creative writing

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - VI

A/N Welcome to Ypres and the battlefields of St Julien, ladies and gents

T/W Mentions of death, violence, and war related trauma 

“All aboard, ladies.” Jack shouted through the cigarette balancing between his lips, glancing at Daniel and Zach over the top of his glasses and offered them a wink as he leaned out of the driver’s side door of the military truck.

“Oh look, Avery can put himself to use finally.” Daniel jabbed, making Zach laugh loudly as they climbed into the back of the truck with all their equipment. The situated themselves near the front so they could talk with Jack through the open space between the cabin and the bed of the covered truck as he drove.

“You are temping me to drive the truck off the road, Private Seavey.” Jack tisked.

“You will do no such thing.” Lieutenant Marais said sternly as he climbed into the seat beside Jack, slamming the door behind him.

“Bloody hell. That’s just swell. A nanny.” Jack grumbled, flicking his cigarette out of the window.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything reckless.” Lieutenant Marais explained slowly, “Like drive the truck off the road.”

“I was joking.” Jack scoffed.

“Christ, Lance Corporal Avery, you treat me like I’m here to arrest you. Relax, boy.”

More men piled into the truck, Sergeant Besson finding a spot up at the front with Zach and Daniel and he offered them a wide smile as he got himself settled. With the Lieutenant sitting with them, the usually talkative group stayed silent as they waited for the go-ahead to head for Ypres, Daniel worked on another letter for Elizabeth and one for his mother on his lap while Zach discreetly read over his shoulder. Corbyn kicked the boy’s shin, making Zach yelp and glare at him as he sat back to give Daniel privacy to write.

The General walked up beside the truck, patting his hand against the hood, “We are all ready to depart, Lance Corporal. Follow the officer’s truck south-east to the city. Straight along this road.”

“Yessir.” Jack nodded once.

The General walked quickly to the truck at the front of the lineup and climbed in. Jack turned the key to start the engine and they were off. Daniel looked down the middle of their group to get a last look at the camp they were leaving, seeing it drastically emptier than before. He wondered why the General ordered them to leave it near empty.

“Lieutenant Marais, may I ask a question, sir?” Daniel spoke cautiously before he could think, leaning forward a little to the front of the truck, the bumpy dirt road making sitting still difficult.

“What is it?” the officer said without looking at him.

“Is Lieutenant Colonel Seavey travelling with us to Ypres?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel nodded once, sitting back in his seat with a sigh.

“He’s your brother, am I correct?”

“Yessir.” Daniel replied.

“He’s a good man.” Lieutenant Marais spoke, his eyes focussed ahead at the dirt road. “A very good leader.”

Daniel simply nodded, even if who he was speaking with couldn’t see him. Zach held out his open tin of cigarettes to his obviously anxious friend and Daniel sighed and took one out, taking the offered lighter from Corbyn and lit up.

“Can I offer you a smoke, Lieutenant?” Corbyn asked.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” he smiled at him, a smile that was much warmer than the men expected after only seeing his serious scowl for weeks. He took the smoke from Corbyn who helped him light it before falling back into his own seat.

“Cheers, men.” Zach raised his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. Daniel copied, letting his head rest back against the side of the canvas wall, blowing out a soft cloud of smoke, watching it twirl to the roof. Zach was pressed up close to him, their shoulders bumping together in the crowded truck as it made its way over the dirt road. Daniel stared out the front window, watching the near barren fields sprawl for miles in front of them, the sky a light grey with speckles of blue managing to poke through. It was a cool spring day, the sky managing to hold back the rain the best it could. Daniel coughed over his next haphazard drag from the cigarette between his fingers, breaking him from his blank thoughts, and he held it out to Zach with an unpleased grimace.

“You are not honestly passing that back to me.” Zach gaped at him.

“I don’t want it.” Daniel shrugged.

“Pass it here, Private.” Jack held out his hand behind him and Daniel set it between his fingers carefully as Jack focussed on driving. “Not letting a good ration go to waste again.”

Corbyn laughed lightly from his spot across from Daniel through his own cigarette balanced between his lips as he cleaned his unloaded rifle across his lap. His blonde hair was falling over his eyes and he tossed it back out of his face with a sigh, sliding the cloth into his pocket and clicked the rifle back into place.

“Do you have to do that right now?” Zach frowned.

“What’s the matter? Afraid I might shoot you?” Corbyn scoffed, tucking the gun in the corner next to him.

“Possibly.” Zach shrugged.

“I trust Sergeant Besson with a rifle more than I trust myself with one.” Lieutenant Marais spoke up.

“That can’t be true.” Zach tisked.

“On the contrary. Besson’s the best shot we’ve got.”

“You flatter me, Jo.” Corbyn chuckled. “Although Seavey here seems to put even myself to shame.”

“Is that so?” Lieutenant Marais turned around to eye Daniel.

“N-No.” Daniel rushed. “I don’t think-”

“First shot in battle and was a direct hit.” Corbyn smirked at Daniel, despite the boy’s embarrassment to have all the attention on him.

“I would like to see that sometime.” the Lieutenant said. “Maybe a higher rank will be in your near future.”

“Oh Christ.” Jack grumbled.

“What is the issue now, boy?” Lieutenant Marais turned to the driver.

“Nothing, Lieutenant.” Jack sighed, stamping out the cigarette on the dash of the truck before tossing it out the window.

“If you keep talking back like you are, you won’t be going home to your daughter any time soon.” Corbyn mumbled.

“There are no mentions in dispatches anyway.” Jack shrugged through a scoff.

“If all goes well at the Ypres front there might be. Home before Christmas sound nice, gentlemen?” Lieutenant Marais smiled back to his men.

The truck erupted in loud and excited chatter.

“I could go for some of my mother’s cooking right about now.” Zach groaned, leaning his head back with his eyes closed in thought.

“My fiancé has written me and said that I shall expect to be eating like the King when I get home.” Corbyn added. “These cans of soggy meat can only satisfy so much.”

“We are eating no better than my one year old here.” Jack chuckled.

“At least she gets the touch of a woman with dinner.” Someone in the back called out, making the men laugh.

“Ay, watch your mouth.” Jack snapped over his shoulder. The men only laughed louder.

 ~~

The rain had started by the time they reached the city of Ypres, coming down in heavy sheets that made it hard to see through the dark surroundings. The trucks carrying the entire 2nd Division pulled up next to the church in an even row, the soldiers jumping out and rushing into the dry space of the chapel to make it out of the rain before they got completely soaked through. It was only a quick stop in the city center to gather a few extra supplies and have a quick meal in the safety of the British controlled city. After a lukewarm meal of stew served in their metal mess tins and water refilled into their canteens, the men lined up for restocking.

The sound of the heavy rain pounded down on the tall ceiling of the church, sounding like the low drawn of marching troops, hitting the stained-glass windows hard enough to nearly break them. Evening had barely passed but it was already almost pitch-black outside, the lanterns in the nave of the church struggling to keep sufficient light for the soldiers.

“It’s looking bad out there.” Daniel mumbled, shoving a handful of bullets into the pouch on his belt. He thanked the man who passed him a new rifle cleaner from the other side of the table, tucking it into his belt.

“If it doesn’t let up soon, we’ll be sleeping in that.” Zach grumbled, sliding his freshly sharpened bayonet back into its sling.

“If these front lines see more action there must be proper sleeping accommodations in the dug outs, you reckon?”  Daniel asked, passing Zach a fresh first aid kit and took one for himself.

“Bloody hope so.” Zach scoffed, as he slid the kit into his bag and buckled it back up.

“Herron! Seavey! Over here!” Jack called, waving them over to the door again. They rushed over to him.

“Lieutenant Marais wants us to head to the trenches as soon as possible. Are you two ready?” Corbyn cut in, walking up to them as well.

“Yessir.” Daniel and Zach nodded together, adjusting the now heavy bags hanging off their cross-body belts and filling their uniform pockets.

“Good. The nurses need their space to set up the hospital in here. It’s only a quick drive to the front lines. Let’s go.” Corbyn held open the door into the intense rain and they all ran for cover in the truck.

Sure enough, it was only a ten-minute drive to the front lines, the truck parking a few yards off to avoid the Germans hearing their approach, making the men walk the rest of the way in the rain. The mud along the dirt road coated their boots thickly, splashing rainwater up their trousers and soaked their jackets as they covered themselves the best they could on their march. The rain only weighed them down more, sending shivers down their tired bodies as they walked on.

The trenches they approached were no where near what they were where they came from. They were barely two metres deep, pools of water covering the ground instead of the protective wooden boards, and looked like they were about to completely collapse.

“Bleeding Christ.” Zach gaped, his eyes wide as he and Daniel kept walking after their division into the trenches.

If Daniel thought the last trenches were poor living conditions, he was definitely shocked into silence by the Ypres Salient. The men they passed as they walked through the pathways looked like they had seen the gates of hell, sunken faces and dark eyes, coated in mud like it was a second uniform. They didn’t make any move to take shelter from the rain, letting the weather wash the dirt from their skin and unexplainable memories from their minds.

A few bodies were laid along the side of the trenches, staring blankly into the new arrivals as they walked past. A shiver tore down Daniel’s arms and he forced his eyes forward to avoid putting a face to the stench of rotting corpses. Not far farther down the line, their section was gestured into one of the dugouts to tuck in for the night.

The shelter from the rain was nice but that was about it as the dugout was barely a meter in depth in the wall of the trench, fit for one or two men to curl up in a sitting position with their feet still sticking out into the elements. Zach and Daniel huddled together in one space, struggling to safely rest their rifles and equipment to the side in the process. 

Daniel drifted in and out of sleep most of that night, the sound of the rain and Zach’s snores keeping him awake, the sixteen-year-old curled up next to him with his head on his shoulder. He could only pray the war would be over soon.

#ww1 #historical fiction #wdw #why dont we #ww1!wdw #ww1 novel #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #corbyn besson #zach herron #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we fanfic #wdw fanfic #limelight #daniel seavey imagines #jack avery imagines #corbyn besson imagines #jonah marais imagines #zach herron imagines #writing #✉

[tracybirds]

My contribution for Gordon’s FAB Five Feb!!! And happy birthday Gordon, all in one!! Hope everyone has a lovely day!!!

Prompts by @gumnut-logic - I picked “How did you do that?”

More from FAB Five Feb: [Alan] | [Virgil 1] | [Virgil 2] | [John] | [Scott] | [Jeff] 

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

She was beautiful. None of the boys could resist casting an appreciative eye over her when they drove by. The sighing and the drooling and the late night conversations dissecting her every movement lasted for well over a month before one of them finally brought her home.

Jeff had put restrictions on his sons immediately, knowing they all would love nothing more than to drive into the sunset with his new baby.

“Never thought Old Daniels would give her up in his lifetime,” said Virgil in dismay.

“If I had known Dad would buy her, I’d have pooled my savings with you earlier, Virg,” said Scott gloomily.

“I know,” moaned Virgil. “She’s so close and we can’t even touch her.”

“Dad sure is a cruel bastard. Such a fine piece of engineering shouldn’t be left in a garage while he jets off to the other side of the world and buries himself in work,” complained Scott. “She was made to be experienced.”

“I wonder how fast she goes,” said Gordon, staring longingly at the glimpse of red paint he could see in the garage window.

“Top speed of 267 mph, accelerates to sixty in 1.7 seconds.” Virgil rattled off the specs, not bothering to hide the envy in his voice. “What I wouldn’t give to run her around the speedway.”

“You and me both,” sighed Scott. He stretched as he stood from his place on the sofa. “Well, we’ve got to head off.”

“Where are you going?” asked Gordon immediately.

“None of your business, squid,” said Virgil, ruffling his hair.

“Can’t I come?” he asked in dismay. “I don’t want to stay with John.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to stay with you,” muttered John, looking annoyed. “Take him away.”

Scott and Virgil looked at each other and laughed.

“Not a chance,” said Scott grinning. “Have fun.”

“Stay safe,” added Virgil.

“Bye,” said the two younger brothers in unison.

Gordon kicked at the sofa irritably. With Alan and Kayo out with Grandma Tracy and their Dad buried in work, it was shaping up to be a pretty average day.

“You know what we could do,” said John slowly.

“I’m not watching that stupid documentary with you.”

“As if I’d waste it on you,” scoffed John. “No, I was thinking I bet I could hack into the garage security.”

Gordon sat up straight.

“You could?” he asked, his eyes shining. “Johnny, yes, I want to see her for myself.”

“I can,” said John. He smirked a little as his hands flew across the holoscreen projected in front of him. “And I just did.”

Gordon bounded from the room and John followed after him.

“I didn’t think you even cared John,” said Gordon, bouncing on his toes as he waited for John to disable the palm reader and authorise keypad only access.

“Have you seen her?” demanded John. “She’s thirty years old and her computer is still a work of art. They don’t make cars like this anymore, even her language is going extinct.”

“Yeah,” breathed Gordon reverently. “Yeah, she’s beautiful.”

The door swung open and they held their breath as they walked inside.

The sun reflected off gleaming red paint, the chrome details shining in the early afternoon light.

Gordon reached out then pulled his hand back, afraid to leave a mark on the polished surface.

“Want to get in?” said John with a grin.

Gordon nodded with wide eyes and John plucked the keys from the nail they hung from.

They slid onto the cool leather seats and looked across each other as the action sent a little thrill through them both.

“This is nice,” said John grinning.

“Scott and Virgil haven’t even gotten this close,” replied Gordon, pulling the seat forward so he could reach the pedals. “They’re gonna die when they hear about this.”

John tossed him the keys. “Get her started, I want to get a look at this programming.”

Gordon revelled in the smooth purr she made as he turned the keys, the low hum sinking into his bones. Beside him, John’s eyes were shining as he examined her insides, numbers and code spilling out of her engine’s computer and into his heart and soul.

“What I wouldn’t give to see her in action for real,” he sighed.

“Let’s take her out,” said Gordon, already imagining the wind in his hair and the sun streaming on his face as he drove. The spike of adrenaline was real and his breath caught as he looked imploringly at John.

“Oh,” said John, equally breathless. “Oh hell yes, let’s do it. Dad’s so wrapped up in work, he’ll never know.”

“Time to find out how soundproof that study really is,” joked Gordon.

With one swipe of his hand, light spilled across the garage as the door lifted up and showcased their path ahead.

Gordon revved the engine with a wicked grin, fingers twitching on the steering wheel.

Gear in place, he pressed down on the accelerator. Hard.

An indescribable whoop left Gordon’s lips as they surged forward. Virgil hadn’t been pulling his numbers from nowhere, she was sleek, she was beautiful, she was fast.

Red paint blazed in the sun.

Smooth transmission bringing the car to life under Gordon’s reverent hand.

Backs pressed into new leather, blurred scenery flashed by and John cried out involuntarily with a bright look in his eye as they whipped around a sudden corner.

Canyon walls rose steadily at their sides, their shadows menacing as Gordon guided them through. They tried to intimidate, tried to slow the exhilaration, but both boys knew something their environment didn’t.

She was dangerous too.

She zipped through the track they’d cut out of the rocks years ago as rich boys with nowhere to play with their toys. Gordon and John knew it well, had shown off here before. The experience had never been quite like this.

“Turn earlier,” shouted John over the wind, as they approached the corner that brought them back to their home.

“I know,” yelled back Gordon. “Not my first rodeo!”

Tyres screeched, dust and stones flew up, brakes screamed in protest as Gordon swung them into the bend.

Too much, too fast and friction wasn’t enough to hold her course. Both boys could feel her slipping outwards, trying to compensate for the acceleration they were putting her through.

They yelled as one as Gordon jerked at the wheel, pulling her into a tight, uncontrolled spin, not yet daring to slam on the brakes.

Rocks and blue sky tumbled through their vision as they spun, their intervals increasing as the car spun and coasted to a stop a mere four hundred metres from their home.

They sat still, stunned by the sudden halt in motion. John looked over and caught Gordon’s eye, both of them frozen yet vibrating with elated energy. Gordon’s hair was standing on end, the carefully ruffled hairstyle now looking like a hurricane had torn through it.

They laughed together, slightly hysterical and breathless as the adrenaline crashed its way out of their systems.

“Boys,” came Jeff’s voice crackling through the comm. “My office. Now.”

“Oh shit,” whispered John as the blood drained from his face. “Oh hell, we’re dead.”

Gordon shoved at John’s shoulder. “Perk up space boy, let me do the talking.”

He strutted from the car, his air of easy confidence parting the dust that was still settling around them. John scrambled after him, nearly tripping in his effort to catch up to Gordon.

Jeff was waiting with folded arms and a scowl that could strip paint.

Gordon jumped in before he could say a word.

“Dad, have you taken her around the track yet? She handles like a dream.”

Jeff’s lips twitched, torn between wanting to compare notes with his sons and needing to scold them for their recklessness. John was the weak link in this particular coupling and he focused his piercing gaze on the taller boy who was already fidgeting with discomfort.

“John, I’m disappointed in you.”

“Yes, sir,” mumbled John.

“I expect you to set a good example for your brother, not encourage his hare-brained schemes.”

He was giving his son an out, a way to blame it all on Gordon. John didn’t take it, choosing to say nothing instead.

He turned to Gordon.

“Gordon.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What possessed you to break into the garage and steal my car?”

“Well you know, she’s a beaut, Dad,” said Gordon blithely. “John bet me I couldn’t beat Scott’s record around the track and well, you know how it is.”

“Sir, I di…” John began quickly, but trailed off as he spotted Gordon glaring at him over their Dad’s shoulder, giving him a clear message to back him up or else. He tried to mimic Gordon’s relaxed pose and took a deep breath. “I didn’t think he’d get past 150,” he said with a slight scoff. “I mean up until now he’s never really gotten to take anything on a real workout, not like you did with me.”

Gordon pulled a face at him and quickly grinned as Jeff looked back at him.

“Is this true Gordon?” he asked. “She got past 150 on the track?”

“Yup, absolutely,” said Gordon, still smiling brightly. “John clocked her at 189 for a bit there, didn’t you Johnny?”

He nudged his brother, who was still looking a little like he might throw up.

“Like he said, sir.”

Jeff shook his head. “You should have talked to me first,” he said severely. “And John, you know better than to tease your brother.”

“Yes sir,” they both mumbled, having the good sense to look ashamed.

“I suppose I can’t blame you though,” he said with a slight smile of his own. “I definitely should have taken you out earlier Gordon. And you got those competitive Tracy genes from me after all.”

Gordon laughed loudly. “You know it Dad. We promise we’ll ask permission first next time.”

“And don’t you forget it, or you’ll find forgiveness harder to come by in the future,” Jeff warned. He waved his hand dismissively at the pair. “Go on then, go boast to your older brothers about your adventure.”

They walked out of the office hardly daring to believe their good luck, lest a lightning bolt strike them down for their arrogance.

The door closed and John turned to Gordon, an incredulous look on his face.

“How did you do that?” he whispered, awe shining in his eyes.

Gordon shrugged. “Dad’s just worried. You gotta help him realise there was never any danger in the first place, that’s all.”

“We could have been killed.”

Gordon patted his shoulder. “That’s the trick Johnny boy, Dad doesn’t have to know that. Besides, he’s got to admire the guts that took us. Fortune favours the bold and all.”

He winked and walked off, whistling as John stared after him gobsmacked.

#gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #sometimes i fic #did i do this primarily so that i too could drool over engines #yes i did #i know nothing about cars except that they are pretty and i love to drive too fast #fabfivefeb

[bubblyani]

Envy makes Two

(Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A Lucifer Morningstar Fic

Author’s Note: Very excited to share this story with all of you. Enjoyed expanding on this idea. My heart says this needs another part, hope you all agree. Enjoy!

The LAPD, a place where the occupants never rested, and on a constant pursuit for answers to serve justice. So when the elevator doors opened with a ding, you made sure your entrance was worth making. Your skirt swished from side to side to rhythm as you strutted in with confidence and with much purpose among the hubbub and officers of the law.

“Ma’am, can I help you with something?”

You halted the moment a smartly dressed policewoman addressed you. Turning around, you smiled as you stood beside an empty desk.

“Yes, I’m looking for Detective Decker”

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

“Are you sure she can help?”

Detective Chloe Decker may trust the skills of her partner Lucifer Morningstar, but this time she needed more convincing, especially when it involved getting one of his friends to help on a case.

“Oh come now Detective, stop with this uncertainty…” Lucifer said, watching her study some photographs in the Forensics Lab, “I’m sure she can provide us with much required information-Ah! Speak of the me…Y/N!”

Beaming, you felt your heart light up the moment he called out your name. Lucifer walked towards you with open arms, swooping in with a tight embrace, which made you giggle. “Darling, thank you so much for coming in during your busy schedule”. 


“Oh no…Of course hun” you said, “Besides, I was on my way to a lunch meeting anyways so, all good” you responded, placing your hand on his clothed bicep. Coming to realization, Lucifer put his hands together.

“Introductions of course…how rude of me. Y/N Y/L/N meet my partner Detective Chloe Decker, LAPD”

Decker was in full surprise when you extended your hand with great enthusiasm. “Oh my goodness, finally in the flesh. It’s so great to meet you , I’ve heard …so many things about you” you said excitedly. Her surprise allowed her to smile as her blue eyes shone bright.

“Oh all good I hope” she said. “Yes” you did not hesitate to respond in an instant. You could not get over how amazing Chloe appeared to be. The bravery she displayed in all stories you’ve heard from your dear friend, was quite evident by the mere looks of her. And her beauty certainly did not fail to make an appearance.

“So how did you both know each other?” Decker asked “Oh you know…the usual” You replied so casually, “I walked into LUX one day with a bleeding forehead looking for ice…” “And we’ve been friends ever since…” Lucifer finished, watching Chloe’s surprised expression with amusement. “You know, I gotta be honest…” she said, leaning in, inviting your attention “I never thought someone like you would actually be his…friend ” her voice softening by the end.

“Oh…” Your eyes widened with realization, “Oh hoho…” breaking into laughter, you continued “I’m not that kind of friend. I mean…clearly you remember when all those women came by the precinct that one time. And I clearly remember not being there hehe. And… keep in mind that those women were actually hot… I am nowhere near them” you guffawed with sincerity.

Chloe opened her mouth. “Oh I beg to differ darling…” Until Lucifer interrupted from afar, wearing a cheeky grin. Recovering from your laughter, you motioned towards him, “Meh…there he goes, being all charitable” you teased, inciting a grin out of the detective. You really hoped you made a good impression on her. You wanted to. After all, she was Lucifer’s coworker.

“So…” you said, rubbing your hands together, “What can I help you guys with?”

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

“So basically, the last person in her call history was Chef Gomez?” “…before she died, yes”

You inhaled deeply, trying hard to take in the information with concentration. Decker continued, “Is there anything you know about Gomez that might help?”

“Hmm… Let’s see…” you said, eyebrows furrowed with as you searched through all the files in your laptop, anything about Pablo Gomez that might provide a clue.

“Ma’am, would you like some coffee?”

Tilting up, you found yourself locking eyes with a pair of green ones. They seemingly belonged to an officer. He was handsome, in a conventional sense. And he stood smiling holding a cup of coffee towards you.

“Oh…sure. Thanks” you said, accepting the beverage. With a nod, he left.

Clicking his tongue, you heard Lucifer scoff, “I would’ve gotten you coffee if you wanted, you know…” he snapped in hushed tone. You turned your head to him.

“Actually I didn’t want any…” you responded innocently, confused to his sudden mood change. Shrugging ones shoulders, you resumed your search. A minute later, you sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry you guys…” you began, “I just…I can’t find anything…” you scowled, “Based on all my records and reviews and background checks, there’s nothing special that you guys won’t have”

Nodding, Decker and Lucifer stepped out of the room. Folding your laptop, you knew they were looking for other options. You sighed again, for you felt useless. Especially being Lucifer’s friend, you just wanted to help out more. You did not want his suggestion to be a lost cause.

“Coffee’s not sitting right with you today huh?”

Breaking into a fake chuckle, you stood straight  the moment you realized the ‘coffee cop’ showed up in front of you again. “I’m not in the coffee mood I guess…” you said, trying to avoid conversation “but thanks anyway” yet not forgetting your politeness. “Well, you’re very welcome” he said, extending his hand “Frank Reed” “Y/N Y/L/N…nice to meet you, Officer” You both shook hands. He chuckled, “Please, call me Frank”. This time it was you who chuckled, “Oh no…this is your workplace so I really shouldn’t” “Well aren’t you by the book?” He said amusingly, “Just my type…” “Ah…” You paused, aware of the situation at play, “Haha…I wouldn’t call myself that exactly…” pressing your lips, you tried to smile but failed. You weren’t so convinced. “So anyways…uh…” Reed began, “I was wondering-”

“Y/N!”

Startled yet relieved, you looked over to find Lucifer briskly walking over to you. “Yeah?” You asked with enthusiasm. “What are you still doing here?” He asked with all seriousness, “Don’t you have the lunch meeting?” “Shit!” You cried out, “Yeah…I almost forgot” smacking yourself in the head, “ Oh thanks so much…” quickly grabbing your handbag, you patted him on the chest before you excused yourself from the room, dashing off in a hurry. Stepping out of the room, Lucifer watched you with a chuckle. “Was that your friend?” A soft groan left Lucifer’s lips, when Officer Reed brought forth the question, joining him. 
“Who? Oh you mean Ms. Y/L/N?” Lucifer asked, “Yes she is…quite a close one too” he added with pride. “Lucky…” Reed muttered, making the devil roll his eyes, “ Hey…is she single-” “Oh! Sorry… I think I’m getting an urgent call…” quickly placing the phone in his ear, Lucifer continued, “Hello? Ah yes…”

Occupied in full pretense, Lucifer moved away whilst stealthily watching Officer Reed staring at you disappearing into the elevator doors. As he put his phone down, Lucifer didn’t know why a random police officer such as Reed would suddenly be the center of his attention. And why his fist clenched tightly by the mere thought of him.

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

Your foot kept tapping away with nervousness as you stood in the elevator. Putting your phone back in your bag, you exhaled loudly.

“Come on…come on!” You whispered. The moment the doors opened,  you celebrated under your breath while running in.

Only to be stopped by a man.

“Whoa ma’am, you need to slow down” the calming voice of Detective Daniel Espinoza caught your attention.

“Lucifer…Decker…” you panted, “Where are they? I’ve been calling them  so many times but I can’t get through…” you said with concern. 

“They’re out on the case…” he said, “Ma’am you really need to calm down” You sighed, aware of the hurried state you were in, “I’m sorry…I’ll just wait for them”. Sitting in front of Decker’s desk with your legs crossed, you wished time would go by fast. You didn’t expect to be back at the precinct the following day but here you were. Staring at Decker’s name plate, your mind began to wander. Were they in trouble? Even if they were, they’d be alright, you were sure. Being a cop, Decker probably knew what she was doing. Letting out a huge sigh, you realized how much you admired Chloe. But the more you admired her, the higher the probability of Lucifer feeling the same. Suddenly, the thought of it made you feel sour. Why would it? You wondered. Why were you feeling this way?

“Y/N?”

A woman’s voice called out. You looked ahead. She was young, hispanic, wearing a ponytail.
“Yes that’s me” you replied, waking up from your train of thoughts. Suddenly, you saw a smile form on her face, “Hey! I’m Ella…Ella Lopez”.

Your jaw dropped.

“The Ella? The forensics Ella?” Your tone quickly changed into excitement as you stood up in a flash, “Oh my god…I’m just so happy to meet you. I heard about you guys all the time from Lucifer”

“Wow…” she said, genuinely surprised, “ that’s so great he talks about us…Awww…Lucifer’s the best”

“I couldn’t agree more” you said. Silently agreeing to all that Lucifer had said, you also realized Ella’s bubbly nature was simply infectious, and you were a witness. 
“So listen…I’m heading over to the forensics room, you can join me if you want…”

“Yeah sure…” you agree instantly, more than happy to join her on the walk over, “You know…I know it’s not my place but…do you ever consider working in there with some music on?” “No… way!…” Ella exclaimed, suddenly stopping on her tracks, “I totally do that”. Eyes widened with excitement, you gasped.

“Really?”

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

“You seem a bit tense…” Decker remarked, her eyebrows raised, “…you okay?”

That was all that she could ask from Lucifer when he kept looking at his phone. “Well if you must know…I’m not” he snapped back through gritted teeth, stepping out of the elevator. They were unexpectedly welcomed by Dan.

“Hey…Lucifer-” “Oh…Spill it Douche!” “Y/N…” Dan stressed, “…your friend? she’s here” “Oh…” caught by surprise, Lucifer said, “..really?” His expression grew brighter, “ Well…thank you Dan…” he said as he walked on ahead. Shaking his head, Dan shot Decker a look, “What’s with him today?”
“I…really don’t know”

Walking swiftly, Lucifer followed the sound of music, which led him to the forensics room. Little did he know You and Ella had begun your bonding ritual by passionately singing along to “Bust a Move”. All the while Ella worked and you watched, bobbing your head up and down.

Relief washed over Morningstar as he found you safe and sound.

“Ahem!”

Stopping yourselves from more embarrassment, the both of you turned as Decker cleared her throat.

“Oh my goodness..where were you guys?” You walked over to them, with your hands on your chest, “I was trying to call but no answer-”

“Sorry darling, but we actually paid a visit to one of Chef Gomez’s friends.  Turns out the gentleman was more into stabbing than talking…”

Covering your mouth, you gasped, “No…Lucifer! Are you okay?”

“No…Nothing to worry about…” he replied, “ the Detective managed to save the day just in time”. Sighing, you folded your arms “You weren’t kidding about the dangers of this job huh?” “I assure you, I’m alright…” Lucifer said, his palm resting on your shoulder, “…now toss those concerns away and give me a smile, you should know, it lights up the room” Scoffing, you couldn’t help but smile in response. Decker stepped forward.

“Y/N…do you have something for us?” “YES…before I forget” 

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

“…. It’s no surprise that man tried to stab you. Because Chef Gomez…he actually used to be in Juvie. He would never talk about it but… I clearly remember him accidentally spilling it out at a party when he was pretty…” you paused, “…high” you said, watching the look of interest arise appear in your friend’s face, “I never documented this anywhere cause I didn’t think it’d matter, but I think this could be sensitive enough for you to get him to talk…” Listening intently, Decker nodded.

“Got it…Thanks Y/N” she said, before quickly leaving the room.

“Well done, my little Trooper” Lucifer purred, pride visibly strong in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Relieved, your smile did not seem to fade, “Thanks…I was so worried I couldn’t help you before”.

“Oh nonsense…” he said, “I’m sure we’ll make great progress with this…”

Nodding, you really hoped he was right. Decker reappeared before you.

“Lucifer…a word”

“Oh…excuse me darling…” he said, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Watching him walk over to Decker, you found yourself sighing. You sighed, thinking how lucky they were to be able to work with each other, how they got to spend so much time together. How you suddenly wished you’d get the same privilege.

Wait…what? You shook your head in confusion.

“You okay ?” Ella’s worried voice filled your ears. Rubbing your temples, you chuckled. “Yeah…I’m good” you said, giving the thumbs up.

“Made new friends huh?”

Officer Reed didn’t fail to not notice your presence here, nor did it fail to surprise you “Oh…Hey” you said, giving a small wave. Ella looked over at the both of you.

“You know her, Frank?”

He grinned. 
“Was lucky enough to meet her yesterday” he said, giving you a small wink. Nodding, you politely smiled. Flattery was not something you disliked, but for some reason you weren’t exactly comfortable with his version. And it clearly made you miss flattery and compliments from one person in particular.

“Listen…I was wondering” Reed began, forcing you to fold your arms in discomfort, “…there’s this really great pizza place nearby…I’d love to take you out one day”

“Oh…” you exhaled, “really?…um…wow!” You continued monotonously.

“I mean you don’t have to say anything now but…here’s my number” he said, handing you a slip of paper, “…call me when you’re hungry” he said, with another smile.

Looking over at the crime-solving partners in discussion, you felt a slight pain in your heart. You hated feeling this way. You suddenly never felt so alone. A few seconds was enough for Lucifer to notice your gaze on him, but too late as you turned back to Reed. Accepting it, you looked into the paper with much focus for you had a hard time looking at Reed. His gaze on you was intense and full of interest, but not the kind that you preferred. You felt invaded.

“Thanks…I’ll-” “Right! Well…Excuse us!”

Suddenly appearing before you, Lucifer cried out grabbing you by the wrist. The slip of paper crumpled in your hand in response to your tense physical reaction, especially when Lucifer Morningstar literally dragged you out of the room.

“Wha? What’s going on?” You asked with confusion.

“As much as your assistance was much appreciated Ms.Y/L/N…” he began.

“Ms.Y/L/N? Since when did you use my last name?” You hissed, even more confused.

“…. Unfortunatley we must ask you to leave” he said. Your jaw dropped.

“What? Why? What the hell? Lucifer!”

You managed to catch your balance as you were released from his iron grip, ending up in the elevator. Waving with confusion, you watched Lucifer’s serious expression remain intact, then disappearing as the elevator doors closed on you. What the hell?

Turning away, Lucifer’s own eyes widened by witnessing the surprised expressions of Chloe Decker and Ella Lopez.


“What just happened?” Decker asked.

“Yeah man…” Ella added, “I was really getting along with Y/N today”

“Well…” he hesitated, “the precinct…isn’t it still the hotbed to danger?”

“Lucifer…” Ella began, “She was here for almost half an hour without you. And you weren’t complaining…” throwing her hands up in frustration, she continued , “Seriously, you’d get all tense whenever Reed would stop b-”

Pausing, a realization came over her.

“Oh…” snapping her fingers, she simply could not believe it, “…Damn!”

“What?” Lucifer asked worryingly, “What has the damned to do with this?”

“Of course! it makes perfect sense now” Decker agreed with Ella, as they both nodded together,  finally solving a different case.

“Ladies! I would very much appreciate if you both just stop talking in riddles for once!” The Civilian Consultant ironically had a hard time handling this without a dose of heavy impatience. Sighing, Ella looked at him whilst shaking her head.

“Oh Lucifer…you idiot!”

___________________________________________

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. I’m feeling Part 2 is in order...whatcha think?

Let me know if you wanna get tagged for the next part ;)

PART 2 HERE

Check out my MASTERLIST for more :)

#tom ellis #lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar fanfiction

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Colorful | Corbyn Besson

Warnings? Nah, I think the ending kinda sucks tho 

Requested? Yup! I hope you like it @abbyhauck13 :) 

Summary: (y/n) and her sister have been wanting to get meet and greet for their favorite band forever but when the time comes, their luck runs out. However everything changes the day before the concert and (y/n) meets her soulmate just before summer ends. 

Word Count: 2,294

“Did you get vip?” Your sister Ari asks you. 

“Nah I was at work and even when I tried on my break they were all gone,” You sigh and fall back onto your bed. 

Your sister lays down next to you and you felt like crying. Your favorite boy band Why Don’t We were coming to your city and you couldn’t even get meet and greet for the first time. While you would still go to the concert, you wished you could meet the five boys that brought a smile to your face no matter what. 

“Who knows, maybe we can win a contest or buy tickets off of someone.” 

And that was that for awhile. You’d see plenty of people going to their concerts and their pictures with the boys and a pang of hurt hit you. You were positive and hyped everyone up as much as possible though. 

“(y/n)!!” You hear your sister scream up the stairs. Before you can even think about responding, you hear her bounding up the steps and towards your bedroom door. 

“I met my soulmate!” She screams and your jaw drops open. 

“What!? How? When? Where?” You fire off questions as Ari sits down on your bed. 

Ever since you can remember, you and your sister loved the idea of finding your soulmate. You both dreamed of how the world would look when the gray lifted and every extraordinary color shone in your eyes. Growing up, Ari dated a bit but never found her soulmate. 

You wanted to date, but you also didn’t see any point in it. If you were to have a soulmate, someone you spent your whole life with, why endure the heartbreak? Besides, all the firsts would mean even more if you did them with the one. 

You understood where she came from though. It made you kind of nervous to dive into a brand new relationship without any warning was scary. What if you messed it all up because you didn’t have any experience? You tried not to think about it too much. 

“So I was at the library studying,” She starts and you scoff. “Okay, I was at the library to see Sam,” She admits. Sam was her boyfriend but recently she had been saying she wanted to break up with him. 

“And I was going to break up with him.” 

“You were gonna break up with him at the library?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yes move on,” She responds and you roll your eyes. 

“So, I’m at the library and Sam is there studying so I ask to talk to him. He doesn’t want to leave so I tell him that I want to break up.” 

“He didn’t take it well did he?” 

“No,” She admits and you laugh. 

“Anyway, he starts freaking out and causing a scene.” 

“Naturally,” You chime in and your sister looks like she wants to punch you. 

“And this guy steps in front of me and tells Sam to chill out. He storms off and whatever and then when the guy turns around it hits me,” She says dreamily as if she falls back into the feeling of what it was like.

You practically fall into the same feeling with the way she begins to describe it. While you wouldn’t understand what the world looks like now to her, you still dream about it constantly. Ari was beyond lucky to be able to meet her soulmate so young. 

“We’re gonna hangout again tonight,” She smiles dreamily. 

“I can’t wait to be there at your wedding you two already sound so cute.” 

She gives you a soft smile before taking your hand and squeezing it lightly. “You’ll meet him soon I know it.” 

The rest of the summer seems to fly by. Ari is preoccupied with her soulmate, getting to know him and starting their lives together. You were beyond happy for her to finally find true love but you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. 

Not only were you not able to meet your all time favorite boy band, you had nothing else to do all summer but work. It was tiring and boring but you were making bank all summer. Besides, there was always the next tour. 

Tonight you were working the closing shift. It was 6pm to 12 am and honestly your least favorite shift for work. You were alone for the last two hours and the only thing that kept you company were the creepy night shoppers and terrible 80s music. 

You tried to make the most of it tonight and bring your headphones so you at least had something different to listen to. As you’re saying your goodbyes to your coworkers, you pop a headphone in and pull up your why don’t we playlist. 

You decided to start cleaning the registers first as you wait for the occasional customer to come stop your busy work. As you clean, you find yourself bopping to your music and even singing along. Even though you were alone for the last two hours, doesn’t mean you can't have fun. 

Just as you move to your next register, you stop when one of your favorite songs to dance to, friends, comes on. You do a little happy dance before pausing and starting to do your practiced choreography. You loved learning the boys dance moves to songs so you could pop off during concerts. 

“I’ll bring a couple of things along,” You sing quietly before performing the tricky steps and landing the beat. You smile proudly at yourself since you had been practicing that move for ages and you finally perfected it.

Just as you’re about to walk away, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn quickly on your feet but end up getting tangled mid spin and before you know it you’re falling. You hear someone call out but it’s too late. 

You land squarely on the ground, sliding back about a foot before slouching back down. You sigh and before you can move, the boy is sticking his hand out to you. You take it, and he hauls you up. 

“Are you okay?” He asks and you check your hands and arms to make sure they’re okay. You pull your phone out to see it’s almost completely shattered and you sigh. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” The boy apologizes and you finally look up at him. Your jaw drops open and you try to form a response but nothing comes out. 

“You’re Jack Avery,” You state. 

“Guilty as charged,” He admits and you still can’t process it. 

“You’re Jack Avery,” You repeat. “What are you doing here? Not like Connecticut I know you’re here for the concert tomorrow but what are you doing here? This is literally the middle of nowhere and you’re here at my job and i’m embarrassing myself.” 

“It’s fine. What’s your name?” 

“(y/n),” You respond and he nods. 

“Well (y/n), anyway I can make that up to you?” He asks gesturing towards your shattered phone. 

“I can buy you a new one? Or get you limelight? Or both?” He asks unsure of what to do in this situation. 

“Both works,” You joke and he smiles. 

“Both it is.” 

The two of you talk for a bit longer, and he gives you his phone number with the promise you won’t give it to anyone else. By the time he’s finally checked out and leaving, you’re clocking out. 

“I know this is a really random question,” You start and Jack looks over at you. 

“But have you met your soulmate yet?” 

“Yeah about a year ago. Why?” 

“My sister met hers this summer and I can’t stop thinking about it,” You respond shrugging your shoulders. 

“Hey, you never know what could happen. Maybe it’s someone in the band?” 

The next day you wake up and almost forget what happened the night before. When it hits you all over again, you rush straight into your sisters room. She’s still asleep but that doesn't stop you from running over and shaking her awake. 

“Ari!!!” You scream. 

“What?” She asks annoyed. 

“Get up! We’re meeting Why Don’t We today!!” 

At those words, she bolts out of bed and lets out an excited scream. She runs over and hugs you and the two of you jump up and down in excitement. This was a dream come true for the two of you and you were still in shock of it all. 

“How did you get meet and greet?” She asks after settling down a bit. 

You explain the events of last night, and when you're done, Ari freaks out all over again. Suddenly your phone starts to ring and you head into your room with Ari hot on your trail. When you reach it, you see Jacks contact pulled up and your sister shrieks in excitement. 

“Answer it!” 

You swipe right on the call and Ari leans closer to you to hear what he’s saying. He explains when to get to the venue and where to meet him and when you hang up, Ari and you both cheer in excitement again. 

The two of you then decide to split up and start getting ready for the concert. Jack told you to be there in two hours leaving you an hour to get set. After changing and fixing your hair and makeup, you and your sister set out. 

“I can’t believe we’re meeting them! This summer is literally the best.” 

The drive is quick and you find yourself starting to freak out. Last night was a dream meeting Jack on accident. Meeting the rest of the band is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. You find parking and head inside the big casino. You head for the arena and when you get there you walk towards the security guard sitting out front. 

“Hi, uh (y/n) (y/l/n) and Arianna (y/l/n)?” The security guard gives us an uncertain look but before he can say anything, the door behind him opens. Jacks head peaks out and he smiles widely at us.

“Hey (y/n). Come on in.” The two of you slip past the security guard and start to follow Jack. As you walk, your sister hits your arm dramatically trying not to freak out too loudly.  

Jack talks as the three of you walk, explaining that limelight doesn’t start for another hour and that he wanted you to have time to hang out with the guys. He leads you towards the back of the stage and into what he told us was the dressing rooms. 

When you walk in, the boys are relaxed around the room talking. You spot all of the band members except Corbyn and when they realize Jack hasn’t come back alone, they stop talking. Jack steps forward and introduces the two of us before explaining what happened the other day. 

“So that’s why we had to make a stop at the apple store?” Daniel asks and Jack nods. 

“You didn’t have to buy me a new phone I was joking,” You chime in and Jack shrugs. 

“I felt bad and besides you shouldn’t have to deal with a shattered screen forever because of me.” 

After initial introductions, the six of us sit around and talk. Every once in awhile your mind would wander to where Corbyn was but you figured he’d be around eventually. You were still pretty starstruck anyway all things considered so you were just trying to process that this was actually happening. 

About ten minutes before limelight was supposed to begin, Corbyn finally walks into the room. He explains where he was and apologizes for not being here earlier. He heads over to Ari first and offers her a hug before turning to you. 

And it’s just like Ari explained but even better. 

Just as Corbyn turns, his eyes move slowly upwards till they’re gazing into yours. You’re thrown into a state of shock and wonder as the edges of the room slowly start to color. You look to see the walls are a startling white, the carpet black with a red stripe down the middle, and a larger array of colors shadowing across the room. 

You look down and realize your outfit displays about four or five colors that this morning you would have described as different shades of gray and black. Finally, when you look back up, Corbyn is staring at you with the softest and most loving smile you had ever seen. 

“Hey soulmate,” He greets and your smile widens. You’ve waited ages for that term to be sent in your direction. If this wasn’t happening literally right before you’re eyes you wouldn’t believe it. “You’re so colorful.” 

“Hey. You seeing what I’m seeing?”  

“Just that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with the most gorgeous girl ever? Totally,” You laugh at his cheesiness but you never felt happier than in this moment. You were damn lucky Corbyn has always been your lane ever since the band started. 

“Good because I don’t think you’ll ever get rid of me.” 

“Wait I was right?” Jack asks upon realizing what was happening between you and Corbyn. “Yo I’m a psychic.” 

The rest of the boys laugh at this and you’re still figuring out how you had the worst and best luck of all time. You couldn’t believe that the universe had decided today wasn’t gonna go in your favor until the very last second. It was truly crazy. 

“If Jack’s a psychic we’re all in trouble,” Jonah jokes and you burst out laughing. 

“I don't know man. This is damn good for me,” Corbyn adds before looking over at you and smiling. 

“Same here,” You respond. 

#corbyn besson #jack avery #daniel seavey #jonah marais #zach herron #corbyn besson imagine #jack avery imagine #daniel seavey imagine #jonah marais imagine #zach herron imagine #imagine #why don't we #wdw #wdw imagine #why don't we imagine #bravebesson

[eefiplier]

89: “Can you just be serious for like one second?” Or 97: “So you’re giving me the silent treatment now?”

97: “So you’re giving me the silent treatment now?”

thanks love, i changed the sentence just a tiny bit, hope that’s not a problem and you enjoy it x

To be fair, there are a lot of things Max hates about himself. It might not be obvious for the general public as much as it is obvious for him, and it might not look as bad from the outside as it actually is. The worst thing is, he doesn’t know what to do with himself most of the time when the hatred starts to eat him from the inside. His first and foremost reaction is always to bite back, to fight back, to hurt his offender back. But what do you do if you’re the offender?

He could spend a whole evening writing down all the things he hates about himself. He’s ignorant, he’s arrogant and he barely cares about the others. Those are the good things, right? He was brought up to think those were his main assets. Nobody told him he’ll fall in love one day though. Nobody told him he’s not going to be the most important person in his life for ever. Nobody taught him how to love without tearing both himself and his beloved ones to shreds with his tantrums.

And surely nobody told him he’d fall in love with his greatest rival one day.

He’s hot-tempered. When he’s upset, he’s fuming. He doesn��t even realise what he’s doing until it’s too late. And when it’s done and it’s too late, he hates himself more than ever.

Max barely knocks on the door, swallowing thickly the anxiety that got stuck in his throat. He’s nauseous, it’s nothing new. He’s shaking, it’s nothing new. He’s terrified and doesn’t understand what in the world he’s going to say right now that would make up for what he’s done. Nothing new.

The door opens after a good few moments, when Max was starting to become overwhelmed by the looming silence. Daniel is looking him in the eye, unreadable expression on his face, his curls a black mess of a crown on his head. Max bites at his cheek and looks down, fingers fumbling at the pockets of his jeans. He can’t even imagine what would make it any better. He’s blank and there’s nothing except for abyss in his exhausted mind and his hollow chest.

“Come in,” Daniel simply says, beckoning with his hand, and Max takes a few tentative steps into the light apartment. It smells of mint. This is Daniel’s scent, mint and expensive perfume. He screws his eyes, trying to bring at least some order into the maelstrom that is his head.

“Tea?” Dan proceeds into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy and echoing from the walls of Max’ skull.

“No, thank you,” he finally says and it’s a pathetic mumble, not his usual self. God, stop being like this, Max. You’re so pathetic.

He shakes his head, looking at Daniel’s broad back whilst the Aussie is making himself a cup of coffee.

“So,” Daniel trails off loudly, “go on. You came here to talk, I reckon.”

Max lowers himself on the table, rasping the wooden surface with his fingernails. Breathe.

“I wanted to apologize,” he speaks up after a moment of silence. Daniel doesn’t turn around and doesn’t seem to even hear him, but Max goes on anyway, this time in even more feeble voice than before, “I’m sorry for… what I’ve said. I didn’t mean it.”

Daniel scoffs and it rips at Max’ heart, blue eyes shooting down to the floor to find some focus there. He hears footsteps, sees Daniel coming closer to him and placing a cup on the table before halting right in front of his boyfriend.

“Look at me,” Daniel asks softly, brushing his fingers on Max’ jawline to tilt his head up slightly. He stares into his eyes for ages, deep frown occuring on his sun-kissed face, wrinkles digging into it, and just when Max starts to panic about what the fuck is going on, he speaks up again, whispering pensively, “what the fuck is going on with you?”

Max shrugs and looks at the wall behind Daniel’s back. Funny, he never knew Dan had pictures framed on the walls of his apartment.

“I’m sorry… “ Max breathes out. “I… don’t know why I did it.”

“You hurt me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” blue eyes glued to the brown ones again, seeking for reassurance, for support, for forgiveness. For love.

“I know,” Dan says and there’s so much in his gaze, understanding mixed with profound confusion, hurt and tenderness, hazel dots around the black pupils. “But I think we both can safely say this cannot continue like this. Something’s off, Max. We have to fix it before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late. Clearly, there’s some flaw in his code. Something went wrong a lot time ago and now it’s hidden so deep inside of him, digging at his flesh and bones and heart and he doesn’t know what is this parasite and how does he get rid of it and if it’s even possible. If that’s not just about him being an asshole in the end.

“What do you think?” Daniel asks softly, tilting his head to catch Max’ eyes again. “Or are you giving me the silent treatment now?”

“I don’t know,” Max shrugs feebly. “I really don’t know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Daniel lets out a deep sigh and pulls him closer, placing a palm on his head, pressing Max’ head to his chest and putting his chin on top of it, arms wrapped around him as Max clenches Daniel’s hoodie in his fingers and gives in, allowing the tears that’s been gathering in his eyes for the whole day to finally, blissfully fall down.

#my fics #maxiel #dudes being gays

[gyllen-haall]

Mcdanno fic!teaser

Danny rubbed his face and grace lost it, steve sighed loudly.

"You know what dad?! You're so unsupportive that I don't even know who you are anymore! You're pathetic! You fail all the time and expect me to conform to standards you don't even hold yourself too! You used to say that you understood but you were a straight A student dad. Want to know why?! Because you stuck your head in books so much so that you couldn't help yourself in the real world dad! You're freaking useless!"

He looks right into his daughter's eyes, he takes his shirt off, and shows her an appropriate piece of his left hip. She sees all the scars covering his body, they covered his shoulders like freckles should have, the bigger scars are on the sides of his torso and the biggest ones were on his hips.

Danny was smiling bitterly, the cold look in his eyes intensifying. It was giving steve chills and the look wasn't even directed at him. But he could see grace visibly flinch, this was the consequence of starting something she couldn't finish.

"You're right Grace, absolutely right. Maybe if I had been a better son I could have protected my mother from my Step father. She did her best to protect me, but she wasn't always home because she was either drinking away her problems or working to support us."

She covered her mouth and tears started filling her eyes. Steve could see the shame building inside her, but he didn't know what to do himself either.

"Maybe, if I had been better, I wouldn't have been verbally and physically abused by my stepfather who was an alcoholic and drug addict after he lost most of his family in a car crash."

Steve and danny have been married for 3 years but this was the first time he actually found out about danny's true past. All he knew was that danny had gone through depression in his teen years and cut, which was turning out to be a lie. But what he knew to be true was that danny's real dad died when he was 7. He hasn't heard anything about a stepfather, or anything danny went through because of that man.

Danny's eyes break there cold glare and Steve can see them getting glassy. Before he can do anything, grace calls out to him but danny is already dressed again and out the door.

"Pops, I messed up, really bad."

She started crying, steve was irritated with her, but she was his daughter too. He walked over to her and brought her into his arms, rubbing her back.

"I know kid what you did was mean, and he doesn't deserve it. But you should apologize, first thing grace. You'll feel better knowing that your father isn't still upset with you."

Nodding, she let him go, and they both went outside. Steve could see the car tracks and it looked like danny went the opposite way than he usually does when he's upset. So that means that he's not going to his usual spot, which means danny could be fucking anywhere.

He rubbed his face in worry and grace looked like she was going to start crying again.

"He'll be okay grace, I promise. He knows what he's doing."

Steve knew that saying it in a firm tone would keep graces hopes up, but she's known him long enough that it's just a ploy. Nodding she walks back inside and hutches up in a ball on the couch.

McGarrett sighs and goes to the kitchen to grab his phone. He dials chin, and he picks up on the first ring.

"You're still at base right?"

The taller man can hear chin rustling papers and sighing.

"Yeah man, filing paperwork sucks bruh."

"Sorry man, but I need you to track Danny's GPS for me."

Chin obviously pauses, and then he hears him getting up and walk into the briefing room. He hears typing and then waits a little bit before chin speaks again.

"What happened?"

Steve looks back at grace in the other room who's still carrying the look of shame.

"Grace and danny got in a fight, she said something really out of line, and then he just left. He usually goes to this one spot when he's upset, but he went the opposite direction, so he probably didn't go to Diamond whatever."

The worry and stress in steve's voice was pretty obvious, so chin didn't question a thing and sent the coordinates to his phone and ended the call with a 'good luck bruh.'

When steve pulls up to the secluded cliff edge, he frowns. Danny's sitting on the edge with a 6 pack of beer next to him. He's got one bottle in his hand that looks half full.

He's only seen danny cry twice, and once was only in pictures when grace was born. The second time being when his brother died, and this is the first time steve actually watches him sob. Steve gets out of the car and closes the door quietly.

Danny probably already knows he's there because he sighs and downs the rest of his beer completely. The shorter man waves steve away while trying to wipe his tears away with his other hand.

"Steve just give me like 8 more beers and I'll be fine."

Sighing Steve walks over and sits next to him, hugging him tightly to his side.

"No, you won't Daniel, and that's okay."

"Steven…."

The taller man can hear the crack in danny's voice, new tears threatening to fall.

"It's okay to hurt over something, it's okay you cry Danno. That doesn't make you any less human than the rest of us."

Steve holds him tighter and danny scoffs.

"Hypocrite."

Danny says half heartedly, trying to lighten up the mood.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

At first danny shook his head, than he met steve's eyes, and he knew he shouldn't have kept this from him. He takes a deep breath and lets steve pull him up from the ground.

#mcdanno #steve mcgarrett #danny danno williams

[hulaherron]

Hard (J.A.)

Based off “Hard” by Why Don’t We

Words: 2400

---

“Happy birthday, Jack!” You exclaimed loudly as you ran towards your best friend, a large smile gleaming on his face. You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Jack laughed, twirling you around gently before releasing you. “So, how does it feel to be 19?”

“About as exciting as being 18,” he replied, earning a playful eye roll and a slap on the shoulder from you. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s feeling pretty good.” You smiled at the cute boy before glancing around the room. Jack watched you carefully, a slight frown replacing his smile. He watched as you lit up, your boyfriend and his fellow bandmate, Jonah, entering in the room. You were quick to flee Jack’s side, prancing gleefully to Jonah. You pressed a big kiss to his cheek, earning a smile from Jonah and a forehead kiss in return. Jack turned around, his stomach twisting at your happiness. He wandered over to join Corbyn, Daniel, and Zach, who were immersed in an argument about video games.

“Tilted Towers!” Zach fought, earning scoffs from both Corbyn and Daniel. “C’mon guys, that’s the best landing zone, no doubt. Jack?” The younger boy turned to him with pleading eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Jack murmured, his eyes trained on you still. He had hoped that your eyes would find him across the party, but they were still glued to Jonah adoringly. Your smile was big and bright, causing dimples to form. Corbyn snapped in front of Jack’s face, causing him to flinch. “Wait, what?” Zach rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Tilted Towers. Fortnite?” He reminded impatiently. Jack snorted, shaking his head in disagreement. “Okay, so you’re all wrong. I’m sure Jonah and Y/N will agree with me.”

“Y/N hates Fortnite,” Jack inserted quickly, his cheeks heating up immediately. “At least that’s what she told me. I think. I don’t know.” Daniel smirked knowingly, patting Jack on the shoulder sympathetically. Jack sighed, running his fingers through his floppy curls. Corbyn and Zach continued to bicker as they headed towards Jonah, leaving Daniel to console Jack.

“Dude, she’s with Jonah,” he said quietly. “He’s one of your best friends, and so is she. They both deserve to be happy, don’t they?”

“She would be happier with me,” Jack grumbled in reply, tugging on the edges of his shirt. “And he can go fu-”

“Yo, Jack! Happy birthday, man!” Jonah shouted as he approached, you trailing behind happily. Jack quickly straightened up, plastering a fake smile on his face as Jonah pulled him into a bro hug. You grinned at the sight of your two favorite boys, then went to greet Daniel. “Who do you have beef with? You sounded pretty mad.” Jack waved it off, shrugging.

“Just some guy at the store today. It’s really no biggie, I don’t know why I was complaining,” he lied. Jonah smiled easily, downing his entire cup of beer. You returned to his side, wiggling under his arm and wrapping your tiny arms around his waist. Jonah patted your back comfortingly, then practically pulled you off.

“I’m gonna get another drink and talk to Tatum,” he told you, nudging his head in the direction of the pretty girl near the drinks table. You nodded with a relaxed smile.

“Cool, I’m gonna hang with the boys,” you replied before turned towards Jack. He forced a thin, closed smile at you, fidgeting with his hands. The tension in the air was thick and awkward, causing you to shift uncomfortably as well. Zach must of sensed the strangeness between you two and walked over, giving you a big, cuddly hug. You laughed, easing up quickly. Zach smirked and winked at Jack, causing the older boy to flip off his bandmate. Zach laughed, pulling away and draping and arm over your shoulder comfortably.

“What’s up, Y/N? How’re you doing?” He asked with a smile. You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Could be better, could be worse,” you mused. Zach felt much different than Jonah, your boyfriend being significantly taller. “How are you, Herron? Any pretty girls after you?”

“Only you, sweetheart,” he flirted with a wink and a cheesy smile, causing you to laugh loudly. Jack rolled his eyes at your playful interaction, wishing that he hadn’t made things so uncomfortable earlier. “So, how’s the happy couple doing?” Your smile faltered, Jack noticing instantly.

“Oh, we’re good, were good.” Your eyes wandered towards Jonah and Tatum sadly. The two were flirting it up, Jonah throwing back drink after drink, Tatum gladly handing him more. You had never seen him smile so wide and laugh so much. “I’m good.” Zach coughed awkwardly, rubbing your back softly. Your eyes returned to Jack, smiling reassuringly. “So, Avery. You’re 19 now and still horribly single. Do you plan to do something about that or should I?” Jack shrugged, sipping his drink to avoid answering immediately.

“I have a girl in mind,” he replied simply, causing you to burst into excitement for your best friend. You immediately began to pester him to drop a name, but he zipped his lips and refused to answer. Jonah returned shortly, his breath smelling horribly of alcohol. He grabbed your arm and pulled you away quickly without so much as a goodbye to his friends.

---

Shortly after the party drew to a close, Jack was laying on the couch, his stomach twisting and turning uncomfortably. The only thing he saw was your face; your beautiful eyes, your gleaming smile, your adorable nose. The other boys were talking mindlessly while cleaning up, allowing the birthday boy to relax. All of a sudden, there was frantic banging on the front door. Jack shot up, turning towards the door. Daniel, who was the closest, hurried over to open it. You flew in, tears rushing down your face and streaking your makeup. Daniel and Zach immediately began to question you, Corbyn going to embrace you, but you ran straight to Jack. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, making you cry even harder. The three boys watched silently, glancing each other nervously.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” He whispered quickly. You couldn’t answer, you could only cry harder. “Y/N, please tell me. Is it Jonah?” You nodded, shaking in his arms. “What did he do? You can tell me.”

“N-N-Not h-h-h-h-ere,” you sniffled, the words barely audible. Jack gently picked you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist and your arms curling around his neck. He carried you upstairs to his room, setting you down gently on his messy, unmade bed. He laid down next to you, pulling your head into his chest. “T-Tatum! She, she’s a-at our house. Wi-with him.” He sighed, kissing the top of your head gently.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “It’s okay. You’re happy, right? Both of you, you're happy?”

“I love him!” You wailed, bawling even harder. Jack stiffened, pulling his arms away from you. You sat up, a betrayed look on your face. Your tears slowly stopped as you stared at him. “Jack?” Your voice was raspy and dry, pulling at his heartstrings even more.

“Daniel will help you. He’s better at this than me,” he murmured, standing up and walking out. You watched your best friend sadly disappear down the stairs, causing more tears to roll down your eyes and your heart to break even further. Daniel took his place shortly, allowing you to lean into his chest. He began to coach you on relationship advice, but all you could think about was your curly haired best friend.

You ended up staying the night, claiming Jack’s room as yours. Your makeup stained his pillows and his sheets smelled of your favorite lotion. He resided on the floor of Zach’s room, tossing and turning all night at the thought of you crying. Morning came slowly for him, but quickly for you.

Jack had woken at the crack of dawn, beginning to make breakfast for everyone. He was horrible at cooking, but it was all he could think of doing to keep his mind off the absolutely gorgeous girl sleeping in his bed.  He made piles of burnt pancakes, rubbery scrambled eggs, nearly raw bacon, and watery coffee.  By the time he had finished, the smoke detector had went off twice and Daniel had come in to check on him five times and just decided on staying to make sure Jack didn’t burn everything to the ground.

“Good morning guys,” you proclaimed as you walked into the kitchen, your nose scrunching at the odd smell. Zach held up a forkful of egg , motioning towards the stressed out Jack staring into his coffee mug. “Jacky boy, you made breakfast? Ooh, and my favorite breakfast.” You grabbed a plate and began loading up, barely noticing the tension in the room. You sat down next to Jack, him quickly standing up and walking to the sink. Daniel slowly followed, Zach leaving as well. Corbyn was still sitting across from you, slowly picking at his food.

“Corbyn, do they hate me?” You asked him quietly. Corbyn shook his head.

“No, no, of course not. Of course not,” he answered quickly. “It’ just, just -- actually, it’s nothing. I’m gonna go, I’m hanging out with Christina today. Do you want to come?” You smiled sadly, pushing your plate away from you.

“Go have fun and be with your girlfriend. I’ll probably just head home.” Corbyn nodded, standing up and walking out, leaving you alone. It was silent in the house for a few minutes, then you heard muffled arguing. You awkwardly stood up, feeling as if you shouldn’t stay any longer. You threw out your uneaten food, emptied your coffee mug, and began to pull on your shoes. Jack shuffled in quietly, catching your attention.

“I’ll be your friend,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “No matter what happens. I’ll always be your friend. Till the end, I promise.” You smiled gratefully, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

“Thank you.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m gonna go talk to him, I’ll call you later.  I love you.” He smiled sadly, his heart cracking at those eight letters.

“I love you too.”

---

Your sad presence was around the house much more often after that night, always showing up with tears in your eyes and a sad memory of Jonah and Tatum. And Jack was always there for you, whispering comforting words to you and letting you sleep in his bed. It became such a regular thing, Jack even cleared a drawer for your things and had given you five of his t-shirts for your nightly stays. Zach’s floor was littered with blankets and Jack’s cooking skills were greatly improving. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his promise to you, slowly growing away from you in hopes to keep his heart from breaking even more.  

Of course, you had noticed and, frankly, it hurt more than Jonah’s distance.  Jack had been your support system for so many years, ever since you met him at 14. He had seen you through too many heartbreaks, and always promised that he would be your friend until the end. However,  his words seemed to lose meaning the more he said them. Every time you tried to catch his attention, he seemed to ignore you and brush you off. The longer you stayed around the house, the less he seemed to be around. Finally, you managed to catch him at the end of the night.

“Jack, hey!” You called out, walking up the driveway. Jack turned around his shoulders dropping. He spun his keys around his finger, waiting for you to meet him on the porch. Rather than tears flowing from your eyes, he was met with your precious smile. “Can we talk for a bit? In private?”

“Yeah, I just want to go to the bathroom first. Is that okay?” He replied, unlocking the front door. You nodded, following him in. “Great. I’ll meet you on the back porch in just a minute.” You two split, Jack heading upstairs and you heading outside. You took a seat on the bench swing, kicking off your sandals. You took in the fresh air, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the wooden bench. The cool breeze brushed over your bare arms and legs, making you shiver slightly. The door creaked open and you opened your eyes.Jack handed you one of his sweatshirts, taking a seat next to you. You smiled gratefully and pulled it on, embracing the scent of him.

“How’d you know?” You asked jokingly, leaning into his side. Normally, he’d pull you closer, wrapping his arms around you, but today he just sat stiffly. “Jack, what’s wrong? You’re acting so weird lately, and you’re actively avoiding me.”

“No I’m not,” he lied, but you saw right through him. You sat up straight, glaring at him. “Fine, what am I supposed to do, Y/N? Jonah breaks you, and I put you back together. It’s tiring! I can’t be just your friend anymore!” Your jaw dropped at his sudden burst of honesty.

“I’m sorry that my boyfriend is an asshole, Jack! I can’t exactly help it! But you can’t be my friend because, oh, that’s so hard!” You shouted back. Jack scoffed, standing up.

“Of course you can help it! You tried to block him, tried to ignore him. But you can’t! You’re constantly running back to him!” He screamed, “you physically can’t live without him!” Your face dropped, your heart shattering once more. But this was much worse than anything that Jonah could have done.  Tears began flowing down your face, hot on your skin. The wind had picked up, blowing your hair back.

“I love you Jack!” Jack’s face fell as you cried out his name. His name, not Jonah’s, not anyone else’s. His. He quickly recomposed his cold face.

“Then be with me. Choose me over him, over Jonah,” he said quietly. You froze, completely stunned by his words. “Y/N. Pick me.” He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in and-

“I pick you, Jack.”

And there were fireworks as he pressed his lips to yours.

#why dont we #zach herron #jack avery #jonah marais #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #imagine #fanfiction #8 letters #hard #why don’t we imagines #wdw band #wdw boys #wdw imagine #shook #this is adorable #too freaking cute #fluff

[artificialqueens]

mental (adoreney) (1/2) - DanFin

A/N: This oneshot was a bit old and laying to waste away in my drafts. I finally rewrote it today. The day I wrote the rough draft, I was venting. Now I’m fine. :) Part 2 will be out soon! Enjoy!

“If you’re a boy, you can go get your backpack.”

All of the boys in the classroom run to their locker. A year ago, I would have joined them just to make it easier on everyone. I didn’t want to get yelled at, either. Now, I refuse to get up because I know I’m not a boy or a girl; I’m nonbinary. I’m no longer afraid to admit that.

“Danny, get up, you’re a boy,” Mrs. Rust says. She looks confused. Is she confused by my decision?

“No I’m not,” I reply. Doesn’t she understand that I’m an enby?

Mrs. Rust shakes her head, “Yes, you are. Go with the other boys.”

I shake my head at her, signaling that I will not get up. I am sick of being misgendered. I’m the only one that can stop it.

Mrs. Rust puts her hands on her hips and glares down at me. I know she’s pissed off at me. “Danny-”

“I’m not,” I interrupt her. “I’m not a boy.” I glance around and see that most of the class is staring. The few that aren’t are whispering to each other.

“Your birth certificate says you are a male. So, that means you are,” Mrs. Rust says. She hasn’t seen my actual birth certificate. She’s only seen the class roster on the computer. That means she’s only seen the thing on my student ID that says: “Gender: M.”

I try to mimic Mrs. Rust’s icy glare. I resist crossing my arms; the last thing I need to do is display aggressive body language. “Birth certificates cab become outdated.” I state confidently. I have no reason to be insecure about that statement. I don’t weigh less than ten pounds anymore.

Mrs. Rust sighs loudly. “Daniel Noriega, you are a boy and you can’t change that! You’re too young to be thinking about this anyways. Do not make me send you to the office,” she explains. She crosses her arms and keeps her gaze on me. I look back at her.

I bite back an aggravated sigh; I know that would get me in even more trouble. She’s not a psychologist or a biology teacher; what does she know? I want to tell her this, but I can’t. I should just give in. I wouldn’t be in a lot of trouble. The worst they could do to me right now is call my mom.

I should give in, even if it shows weakness. No, I should stand up for myself. I could help another teen that feels the same. But I wouldn’t be in trouble if I gave in. God knows I don’t need to be written up for fighting with an ignorant teacher… Again…

I stand in front of Mrs. Rust and think for a few moments. I think about the pros and cons of each of my options. One keeps me out if trouble, one can help inspire another teen. One helps me, one harms me and helps another…

That’s it, I’m giving in.

“Yes ma'am,” I reply weakly. I look at the ground. I have a feeling I made a bad decision, but I can beat myself up about it later.

“Now, get up and go to your locker,” Mrs. Rust says firmly. I know she’s smiling proudly. She always does when she wins an argument.

I quickly get up from my seat. I ignore the stares and walk out to my locker. I did not want this today nor did I need it. I’ve gone though enough already.

“So you’re finally out here,” someone beside me says. Their voice is deep and masculine. “It’s about time. You are a boy, ‘ya know.” I finally recognize the voice; it’s Kyle.

“My organs don’t define my gender,” I repeat firmly without looking away from my locker. Making eye contact can encourage conversation; I’m trying my best to discourage it.

“Um, what about down there?” Kyle says. I notice him motion towards my crotch. My cheeks and the back of my neck heat up. I bite my lip. What a pervert.

“That’s none of your business,” I reply in a low voice. “I’m not attracted to you at all. Plus, gender is more mental, not physical.” Or maybe it’s not real? I don’t know, I’m still confused about that.

Kyle scoffs and scoots away from me. “That’s- You’re disgusting.”

I feel every bit of confidence I had wash away. I feel the overwhelming burning of tears in my eyes. My mind goes blank; I can’t think of a snappy comeback. I exhale slowly and quickly put my locker combination in. Kyle must feel proud since he made me speechless.

Once I get my backpack, I slam my locker shut. I walk past Kyle and towards Mrs. Rust’s classroom as quickly as I can.

When I get back to Mrs. Rust’s classroom, I go to my seat and sit down. I look down and let my hair hide my face. I don’t know if it’s obvious that I have tears in my eyes. If it is, I don’t anyone to see me. I don’t think they’d understand.

I have to be positive. It is almost time to go home. That means I’ll be able to talk to my mom. She’s one of the only two people that I trust. She’s very open-minded and accepting. She doesn’t care about who I love - as long as they’re between the ages fourteen and sixteen - or if I’m a boy or girl or neither. She loves me for me.

The other person is my long-distance, Australian boyfriend, Shane. He’s two years older than me. He was the first person I told about my feelings. He was one-hundred percent okay with it since he is genderfluid - which is a nonbinary gender. - He helped assure me that I wasn’t confused or wrong. He helped me through a lot of self-hate. Hopefully I will be able to talk to him later today.

-

“How was school?” Mom asks as soon as I close the front door. I set my backpack down next to the door. Do I really want to tell her about it?

I shrug and look away from her. “I don’t know, to be honest. I was told I’m disgusting,” I reply nervously. I have no idea how she’ll react. She’s pretty protective of me and my siblings.

When I finally look at Mom, I notice a frown on her face. She hates it when I get bullied. Please don’t lecture me. You know I am not that good at standing up for myself.

”Why did someone call you disgusting?” she asks. I walk over to the couch and sit down beside her. I stare at the ground at first 

I look up at her before speaking. “Because I refused to get up with the boys. I don’t feel like a boy or a girl, Mom. I feel… genderless. It’s called nonbinary. A lot of other people feel that way,” I explain. Hopefully she won’t see it as a trend or attention-seeking.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “Maybe you’re just confused right now because of puberty?”

“Mom!” I say in a loud, whiny voice. How could she doubt me? Why would she think I’m confused? “I’m not confused! I’m old enough to know what I am. I knew I was gay when I was twelve and in sixth grade. How come you think I’m too young to know my gender identity when I’m fourteen and in eighth grade?” That should make her think.

“Because… Danny, I… I just don’t understand this. It worries me sometimes. I don’t want you to be bullied,” Mom explains. “It’s just an instinct. I don’t mean to seem like a narrow-minded person. I’ve just never been through this. I never questioned my gender identity or sexuality.”

That makes sense. If someone hasn’t been through something, it’s obvious that they wouldn’t know how to react.

“Oh, okay… Only Kyle and my music teacher bother me about it, if that makes you feel better. Everyone else just goes along with it or are too scared to say anything.”

“Okay,” Mom replies, “That’s a relief.”

“May I go to my room?” I ask and Mom nods. I get up from the couch and walk down the hallways towards my room.

Once I enter my room, I go to a desk that is pushed up against the wall. I got it soon after I got a laptop for Christmas. I see that Buffy has claimed it as her bed. She’s laying on top of my laptop. That is about to change.

“Okay, off you go,” I tell her. I try to shove her off. - I know if I try to pick her up, she’ll dig her nails into my laptop. - She looks at me, hisses, and swats at my hand with her paw.

“Why do you have to be so rude?!” I ask her. She narrows her eyes at me in reply. She then stands up and jumps off of the table. I watch her walk away. I pull the chair out and sit down at the desk.

I open my laptop and press the button to turn it on. I then click on the MySpaceIM icon. I embedded it on my desktop so I wouldn’t have to look it up every time I want to get on it. I wait for the program to load. I really hope Shane is awake. He lives all the way in Sydney, Australia. There’s a large time difference in between Azusa and Sydney.

dannynoriega: Hello… You awake?

shanejenek: Yeah, it’s 10 am in Sydney. I’m at school. What’s up?

dannynoriega: oh, I had a bad day and I really needed someone to talk to.

shanejenek: What happened?!

dannynoriega: I was called disgusting by Kyle because I told him that gender was mental and not physical. He’s messed up.

shanejenek: Sounds like it. I wish I could come to Azusa and hug you and tell you everything will be okay :c. I also wish you could come live with me. My friends are accepting.

dannynoriega: The friends I have are but it’s not enough sometimes. They don’t always stand up for me. Sometimes I want someone to relate to…

shanejenek: I’ll always be here for you to talk to. Even at 2 AM. That’s what boyfriends are for!

I smile and giggle at his comment. Comments like that get to me sometimes; especially if they’re from someone I love a lot. I love Shane unconditionally.

dannynoriega: Yeah I know and I’m glad you are. But remember that I can’t always have my laptop. That means I can’t always text you.

shanejenek: Well, one day, we’ll be together in real life. Things will get better. Believe me!

dannynoriega: I will. I’ll let you go. You don’t need to get in trouble at school.

shanejenek: I personally don’t care if I get in trouble but okay. I love you <3

dannynoriega: I love you, too <3

shanejenek: <3

I wait a little while before clicking the ‘x’ in the top right corner. I then shut my laptop down. I hope what Shane said was true; I hope we do get to see each other in real life one day.

#danfin #tw transphobic language #tw transphobia #tw bullying #adore delano #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction #submission #adorney #m/m au #high school au

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Classified: Part 5

Luke is still adjusting to life in the BAU when a familiar face from the past joins the team as their Communications Liaison. Last time he saw her they were in the Iraqi desert on a highly confidential mission. Some ghosts are meant to stay buried…

Masterlist (x)

So, this is a bit of change of pace for Classified. A very fluffy chapter with lots of Luke action (feat. Roxy). I hope you like it! We’ll get back to the angst in Part 6…

It was a beautiful day in the Virginian woods as you traipsed through the towering trees. The bright beams of sunlight filtered through the leaves, warming your skin as it illuminated the stunning scenery. All you could hear was the sound of the leaves crunching beneath your feet and the calming chirping of the birds as you allowed the tranquillity to wash over you.

Suddenly, a loud bark interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. You laughed softly as Roxy came speeding through the forest, wagging her tail excitedly as she chased a group of birds through the trees.

“I told you that she’s crazy.” Luke called out, chuckling warmly as he came to stand by your side.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the former ranger, giving him a gentle nudge in the hip as you gestured for the two of you to continue walking through the woods. It had been Luke’s idea, to spend your day off together with Roxy.

At first, you had been hesitant to accept his invitation – concerned that the more time you spent together the more likely you were to slip up in front of your teammates. However, you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn down his offer – the promise of being reunited with his sweet pet was just too tempting.

A small part of you also felt determined to prove to Luke that following the bombing you were fine. You could tell he still blamed himself for how the case in Seattle turned out. It was silly because there was nothing more he could have done to avoid the explosion and your resulting injury. But, due to his time in the military, it still felt inherently wrong to have a teammate hurt whilst he was meant to have their back.

So, you had reasoned that if you could show him that you felt both physically and emotionally recovered, it might help him forgive himself and ease him of his irrational guilt.

At least that was your official justification for spending the day with him. The fact that he managed to make you smile brighter and laugh louder than anyone else ever had was something you would keep to yourself.

“I’m so glad they let you keep her.” You told him sincerely, smiling softly as Roxy sniffed curiously at a nearby tree. You had witnessed first-hand how important the loveable dog had been to Luke and the regiment in Iraq, to be able to see her back home safe and sound felt like a privilege.

Luke smiled softly, the tenderness in his expression almost taking you by surprise as his eyes met yours in an intense gaze. “I wouldn’t be here without her.” He replied quietly, glancing down as Roxy curled herself around his legs. “After Iraq, I needed someone to live for.”  

The openness in which he talked about his pain made you falter slightly. It had been something you had always regretted, pretending to move on from Iraq and being unable to contact those who had stood by you through it all. Remaining in touch with Luke had never been an option given the secrecy of your mission, but you felt terrible knowing that he had been left by himself to recover from the horrors of war.

Apparently, he seemed to sense your sorrow – glancing up sympathetically as he shook his head.

“It’s not your fault.” He insisted firmly. “It’s just the way things were.”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips nervously as you dared to meet his curious gaze. “Do you ever-” Your words were stolen as you throat constricted painfully.

Even after all this time it felt too difficult to speak about the darkest moments of your life. The ones that continued to haunt you even now.

A gentle hand rested on your arm as Luke took a step closer to you. “I do.”

His words were simple, but the understanding and compassion they contained filled you with a comforting warmth.

You cleared your throat, attempting to compose yourself. “So, is your dad still cheering on the lame Yankies?”

Luke chuckled loudly, shaking his head at your choice of conversation topic. Family had always been a great source of amusement for you both.

“Don’t you miss your family?”

Luke’s probing question was met with a playful scoff as you turned to face him. There were many things you yearned for in the Iraqi desert and you would be lying to claim that you didn’t miss your home comforts. However, being able to escape the constant berating of your parents was something you eagerly welcomed.

You loved them both dearly, but it was refreshing not to have to justify your life choices on an almost daily basis.

You shrugged your shoulders, flashing Luke a playful grin. “At least I don’t have my mom nagging at me out here.”

It was true. Although she was deeply proud of your service, your mother was rather exasperated that you were more interested in chasing criminal and terrorists than building a personal life for yourself.

Luke chuckled softly, knowing full-well what a good-intentioned, overbearing mother could be like. He had already divulged some rather entertaining stories about his own family to you.

“Do you miss anything yet?” He asked, his brown eyes filled with curiosity. You hadn’t given much away, even to him. So, he was rather intrigued to find out more about your life. No one had really expected you to adjust so well to life in Iraq, yet here you were seemingly undeterred and as determined as ever.

“I miss having a proper shower.” You told him jokingly, scowling at the thought of the dusty tent that was intended to be a bathroom. They called them a ‘wet hooch’ and you would be delighted if you never had to suffer another one in your life ever again. “And I’ve seen enough sand for a lifetime.”

Luke burst out laughing at your expense, leaning forward to brush some of the offending dust from your sleeve.

You tried ignore the excited fluttering in your heart that his touch inspired. But, there was something special about Luke Alvez.

Laughter echoed around the trees as you and Luke continued to share entertaining stories about your families. The mention of his mother still berating him for his lack of a love life was particularly amusing as you pictured her fussing over an unimpressed Luke.

You had never met either of his parents, but it was obvious that they meant a lot to him. After all, his father was the reason why he had joined the army in the first place. You had no doubt that Luke had made his family very proud…even if his mom still wanted him to settle down with someone other than Roxy.

The topic soon turned to him joining the FBI, with Luke mentioning that it had been your advice that had planted the idea in his head. Supported by his father and your previous words of encouragement, he had decided to give it a go. He had always known that he needed a career that allowed him to continue with adrenaline-fuelled exploits. The quiet life had never been for him.

You were rather flattered that you had inspired him to join the bureau. Never had you imagined that your presence in Iraq would have any influence on his future, yet here you both were as BAU agents.

“Talking of which, how’s Phil?” You asked curiously. The two men had always seemed so close that it was rather strange that Luke hadn’t mentioned how his friend was doing. You were fairly certain that they had followed each other into the FBI following Iraq.

The sight of Luke’s clenched jaw made you instantly regret your question. It was rare to see him look so tense.

“He’s not well.” Luke responded quietly, gritting his teeth as if it pained him greatly to even utter the words. “Daniel Cullen got hold of him during an undercover mission and…” He trailed off, his fists clenching as he thought about the fate his friend had suffered. “He’s paralysed.”

You stood silently as you watched Luke struggle with the distressing memories, the pain in his eyes rendering you momentarily speechless. Your chest felt heavy as you came to terms with the news. Phil wasn’t doing well at all.  

It seemed horrifically cruel that someone as strong as Phil had survived a hellhole like Iraq, only to have his life ruined by a ruthless serial killer back at home.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, gently lacing your fingers through Luke’s in a show of support. It felt as if all your pretence faded away as you squeezed his hand comfortingly, the desire to help him through the pain too much for you to turn away from. “He’s a good person.”

Luke nodded slightly, his breathing slowing as he allowed himself to relax under your touch. The kind gesture had taken him by surprise as you had never dared to be this affectionate with him in the past. But, feeling your fingers lightly caressing his hand sent an excited flutter through his stomach.

Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment as you then decided to pull away.

It was hard to read what was on your mind as he glanced at your conflicted expression. Instead of attempting to deduce your behaviour, Luke thankfully settled on changing the topic of conversation.

“So, you went back to the FBI after?” He asked you, genuine curiosity in his voice as he thought about the question he had been wanting to ask ever since you had first joined the team. “Counterterrorism?”

You nodded quickly, it had been a decision you didn’t even have to make. The FBI had always been your home and if your time in Iraq had taught you anything, it was that you still wanted to make a difference in the world.

“I guess I just couldn’t give it up.” You replied softly, bending down to scratch Roxy fondly behind her ears. It was a welcome distraction from the intensity of Luke’s gaze as the adorable dog licked your hand affectionately in appreciation. “I mean I don’t think I’ve ever been able to let go of things when I set my mind to them.”

“Why did you become a liaison?” Luke asked quietly. It had been the thing playing on his mind for months. Why would a highly-respected agent from counterterrorism who had served in Iraq suddenly decided to shift careers to one based behind a desk.

“I can help others.”

“This is war.”

“And we have a duty.”

The argument was blazing as you tried to reason with the harsh commander. It wasn’t unusual for you to come into conflict with the more hard-line military personnel. You definitely didn’t want more complications to your already troubled time in Iraq, but you refused to stand by and allow them to compromise the principles you had swore to uphold.  

You understood the frustrations surrounding the camp at the moment, especially after the botched mission which cost the lives of soldiers. But, that didn’t justify neglecting your duties. It didn’t matter if a person’s relative was a confirmed terrorist or not, the treatment of families had to be one that respected their dignity and rights.

Before you had arrived, you had been under no pretences that your ‘soft’ approach would go down well with some of the military. However, it your values were something that you would never comprise on – neither would the majority of the soldiers who fought in the hope of building a better future. A snarl ripped from the commander’s throat as he tore away from you, briskly exiting the tent as he cursed under his breath about your ‘incompetence’.

A moment of silence passed before you heard the tent reopen, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as your braced yourself for another heated disputed. However, you were pleasantly surprised to be greet by a concerned Luke. His eyes shone with sympathy as he swept over your exhausted form.

Ever since he had comforting you following the botched mission, it felt as if he had been keeping an eye on you. If it had been anyone else you would have been insulted by their perceived lack of confidence in your abilities. But, you knew that Luke would never question your determination. He was simply worried about your wellbeing.

He didn’t even need to ask the question, you already knew what he was going to say. An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as you gestured to the dusty landscape. “We have to give these people hope that things can be better.” You explained, predicting that he would be wondering why his superior had stormed off in rage.

You bit your lip as you stopped yourself from asking him an inappropriate question. Yet, every day you found yourself wondering how a man such as Luke could find himself obeying the orders of someone so determinedly ignorant. Apparently, your eyes betrayed your confusion because Luke answered your unspoken question.

“I trust him to stand beside me, the same way I trust you.”

“I trust you too Luke.”

“You’ve always been like that.” Luke commented quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as you glanced up at him in confusion. It was still a mystery to him that you weren’t aware of your own kindness and bravery or how much he admired you for it.

“Like what?” You asked curiously, genuinely intrigued about the meaning behind Luke’s seemingly ambiguous words. A slight blush spread across your cheeks as Luke froze in his tracks to fix you with an admiring gaze. The intensity in the depths of his warm brown eyes caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Hopeful.”

His words caused your heart to flutter excitedly.

“I prefer to think of it as cautious optimism.” You joked quietly, attempting to distract the two of you from the growing intensity of the situation.

Luke chuckled softly, raising a hand to gently brush away the hair that fallen across your face. Everything seemed to still for a moment as your eyes locked together.

Before either of you could make a move, a loud bark and the pitter-patter of Roxy’s paws drew your attention as she raced towards the two of you. It was only then that you realised how long you had been out. The glowing sun was now setting in the sky, casting magnificent rich colours that illuminated the landscape.

The memory of the last time you had witnessed a sunset with Luke filled you with fond nostalgia…

All of the military tents, tanks, weapons and horrifically imposing compound walls couldn’t detract from the unique beauty of the desert landscape. The sky glittered with glorious beams of red, orange and yellow as the sun set behind the sandy hills.

It had become a regular occurrence for you to retreat to the outskirts of the camp to seek solitude -especially after a trying day. The sound of the approaching footsteps told you that Luke had noticed your tendency to disappear.

He didn’t say a word as he stood silently beside you, only slowly lifting his hand to trace the outline of your lips. His eyes shone with intensity as you eagerly leant into his touch.

“The heat’s got to me.” You whispered quietly, a playful smile curving onto your lips as you met his gaze. “My lips are chapped.”

Luke chuckled softly, delicately running his finger across your lips as you desperately tried to resist the urge to pull him closer. You were hidden away from prying eyes, but after everything that had happened it didn’t feel right to share this moment here.

Not now.

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#criminal minds #luke alvez #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez imagine #classified #miniseries

[harrysmyguccihoelove-blog]

Savior

Just as a warning before this imagine starts, this imagine in particular will include the topic of domestic violence so if you don’t like that, please don’t read. Other than that, enjoy my loves :)

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

I walk into Target with my head hung low and the list of items I need to pick up permanently engraved in my brain.

Beer, pickles and hot pockets.

If I forget something, get the wrong kind of something, or too little of something, I would suffer the consequences.

Consequences include, cleaning the entire house, no food or beatings.

Jason thinks of many more consequences very frequently, but those are the most used.

Jason and I used to be an extremely happy couple. That is until he started drinking heavily.

When he got wasted, he got violent. He blamed everything on me and abused me physically, verbally and mentally.

I haven’t told anyone about Jason being abusive because he threatened to kill my family if I told anyone.

So I keep my head down and do anything and everything he asks.

My thoughts were interrupted by me bumping into a hard chest.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m sorry.” I have the habit of saying sorry way more times than necessary since Jason has become abusive.

“It’s no problem love.” British accent.

I slowly look up and am shocked at what I see. 

An insanely attractive man with dimples in his cheeks, a strong jawline, luscious brown hair and amazing green eyes.

I need to walk away from him. Now. Jason will have my head if I talk to another guy.

“What’s your name love?” Love. That name sends chills down my spine.

“YN.” I say, stuttering a bit.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you.” I say, refusing to look into his eyes. I need to get away soon, get what I need and go home.

I clear my throat and start to walk away.

As I pass him, I feel a firm but gentle hand grip my wrist.

I tense at the contact and wiggle my wrist free.

“I didn’t mean to startle you darling.” It’s Harry. I turn around to face him. “I don’t want to be stepping over any boundaries or come across as rude, but are you doing alright? You look extremely pale and have a black eye.”

“Are you alright, YN?” He asks again.

I want to tell him. Jesus Christ I want to tell him so much. My skin is literally itching to tell someone.

I clamp onto my arm and dig my fingernails into my skin, to stop me from saying anything that will get my family killed.

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m a naturally pale person and I fell walking down the stairs because I’m clumsy. What right do you have, asking me if I’m alright? Get over yourself.” I scoff before walking away.

I quickly get what I need and speed home. When I walk inside our condo, Jason is sitting in front of the TV with a beer in his hand.

“What took you so long?” He asks harshly, his voice making me want to curl up into a ball and stay there forever.

“There was a long line at the register. The store was packed.” I’m starting to get good at lying to him, he’s always too drunk to notice.

“Got what I needed?” He asks, setting his empty bottle on the ground and stumbling over to me.

“Yes I did. Would you like one now?” I ask

“Yeah, but make it quick. I don’t wanna wait around to eat.” He spits before getting back into his chair.

I take a deep breath and walk off the the kitchen to prepare his food.

When it’s done, I bring it out to him. He roughly grabs it from me and takes a bite.

I hear a loud muffled groan and he spits the bite he had in his mouth back onto the plate.

“What the fuck?! Are you TRYING to kill me?!” He asks, throwing the plate down on the side table.

“N-no.”

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me up so my face is level with his. He yanks my hair once before letting go.

“Why was it so hot huh?”

“I-I don’t know. I just put it in the microwave for as long as the package said.”

“Mhm sure you did.” He says kicking the side of my leg. I yelp out and lean down to clutch my leg.

“Aw, did that hurt?” Jason says, smiling menacingly at me. “What consequence should you get this time?”

My eyes go wide.

“No Jason, please don’t, I promise I didn’t mean to. Please don’t punish me. I’ll do better next time.” I plead, hoping that he won’t punish me for once.

“You should’ve thought about that before you made my fucking food too damn hot!” He screams.

I close my eyes as he continues to yell at me, screaming all the reasons why I’m worthless and why no one would want to be around me.

His words hit me like a truck. I start sobbing loudly, covering my face with my hands.

My mind trails back to Harry that I met at Target not too long ago. I’d give anything to see him again.

He gave me a strong sense of peace. With his stunning green eyes, amazing smile and those adorable dimples.

Everything about him screams safety.

I need him to wrap his arms around me and tell me that everything’s going to be alright.

That Jason will never hurt me again.

I snap out of my trance when I feel Jason harshly slap me across the face.

“You worthless piece of shit! You can’t do anything right!”

After hitting me a few more times and more screaming he finally settles down.

“Just go clean both bathrooms and leave me alone.” He says before going back to his chair and opening another beer.

I run upstairs and quickly clean the bathrooms before going into the guest room.

Jason doesn’t let me sleep with him anymore, unless he wants sex.

I change into something more comfortable before crawling under the covers and crying myself to sleep, again.

The next day, I wake up early to make Jason breakfast before I go to work at the local hardware store.

Work is the only escape I have from Jason. I crave to go to work.

Of course, my boss Danielle forces me to take two days off each week, even though I really don’t want to do that.

But I always listen to her.

I walk into the store and Danielle immediately takes me by the arm, dragging me towards the back.

“We have a new worker today. His name is Harry. I want you to show him around and teach him a few things. Can you do that?” She asks.

Harry. Oh god. That can’t be the guy I met yesterday can it?

“Oh. I-I don’t know,”

“YN please? Both Troy and Luke called in today. Just for today, and maybe tomorrow. I’ll let you work an extra day.”

She doesn’t know why I crave working but she doesn’t question it.

“Fine I’ll do it.” I’ll take anything that can save me from Jason for an extra day.

“Thank you YN, you’re a lifesaver. Harry’s in the break room.” She says squeezing my hand before walking away.

I take slow steps to the break room. I take a deep breath before opening the door.

His back was facing me, but I immediately saw his unmistakable curly hair.

Fuck.

This can't be happening.

It’s him.

“H-Harry?” I ask, immediately getting his attention.

“YN. It’s you.” He says rushing up to me, grabbing my hands in his.

I quickly pull my hands away from his, Jason’s face flashing in my mind.

“I was hoping it would be you.” He says, smiling at me.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” I ask, walking back out into the main store.

I walked Harry all over the store, showing him where things are, where certain things go, and where the deliveries are dropped off.

After that, it was time for lunch.

“So tell me YN, do you have a boyfriend?” Harry asks and I almost choke on my sandwich.

“That’s an extremely personal question Harry.” He shrugs

“I’m just trying to get to know you better. And I’m wondering if I have any competition.” He says with a wink.

Jason would tear him apart if he had the chance. He would tear me apart if he knew I was talking to him.

“I do have a boyfriend, his name is Jason.” I say, getting quiet.

“How long have you two been together?”

“T-Three years.” I say as flashbacks of us being happy flash across my mind.

“That’s quite some time, I hope you two are happy together.”

I quickly get up and rush to the bathroom, sobbing into my hands.

I really want to tell him everything. I want to get away from Jason. As far away as I can and never see him again. But I can’t.

I successfully avoid Harry the rest of the day.

I get home from my shift around 6:30 and slowly make my way to Jason and I’s condo.

“YN?” The all too familiar voice asks, making me turn around.

“Are you following me Harry?” I ask

“What? No, I live here.” He says and I shake my head.

“Why don’t you just let it go? You’re a great guy Harry, but I’m with Jason and I love him. Just leave me alone.” I say rushing inside, leaving him speechless.

Jason gets right in my face as soon as I walk in the door.

“Who the hell was that?” He asks, his beer breath making me want to vomit.

“No one, just someone I work with.”

“Why did you ask him to leave you alone huh? You fucking him instead of me?” He asks and I shake my head.

“Answer me, whore.” He says slapping me across the face making me squeal.

“I promise you, he’s just someone I work with. Nothing else.” I manage to get out through the tears that have fallen down my cheeks.

“You’re such a bad liar.” He says hitting me again, before grabbing both of my wrists tightly in his hands.

“Please let go. Please just leave me alone.” I cry out.

After a few more hits he leaves me alone.

I trudge up to the guest bedroom and cry myself to sleep, just like I do every night.

I was restocking shelves the next day when Harry runs up to me, out breath.

“Is Jason hurting you?” He asks and I freeze. 

I finally come back to my senses and let my hands fall to my sides when I feel myself start to break.

I nod my head as I feel thick, hot tears slide down my face.

“Oh YN.” He says, bringing me into his arms, letting me sob into his t-shirt.

“How long has this been going on for love?” He asks, gently stroking my hair.

“He’s been abusing me for about two years. He said that he would kill my family if I told anyone. He’s going to kill my family Harry.” I say clutching onto him tighter.

“No YN. I won’t let that happen. At all. I’m going to protect you from him.” He says kissing my forehead, sending waves of calmness through my body.

“Let’s go and turn this bastard in.” He says taking my hand and guiding me to his car.

On our way to Jason and I’s house, Harry called 911, mostly because I don’t have the guts to do it.

“Thank you Harry. I seriously can’t put into words how thankful I am for you getting me out of this.” I tell him and he grabs my hand.

“You don’t have to thank me YN. I just don’t want you to be going through this.” He says pressing a kiss to my skin.

I hold onto his hand tightly the rest of the ride, not wanting to let go.

When we get to our condo, I see about three police officers trying to guide Jason to their car but he’s not having any of it.

I quickly get out of the car and examine what’s going on.

“You fucking whore! You’re the one who turned me in! Fuck you and your little boy toy!” Jason yells.

Harry quickly comes up behind me, whispering in my ear and trying to get me back in the car.

I felt a surge of confidence run through me.

“Fuck yeah I turned you in! You’ve made the last two years of my life a living hell, for what? So you can use me? Well lucky you Jason! I hope you rot in hell!” I yell at him.

His face turns a deep shade of red and he tries to run towards me, eventually breaking free of the officer’s hold.

Harry pulls me behind the car and steps in front of me.

A loud, sudden bang rings in my ears, making my head throb.

I look out from behind Harry to see Jason laying on the road with a bullet in his temple.

A loud sob of relief escapes my lungs, making Harry turn around and hold me tightly.

“Shh. It’s ok love. He’s gone. He won’t hurt you again. You’re safe.”

“You promise?” I choke out, only clutching him tighter.

“I promise I’ll protect you for the rest of my life with all that I have.” He says pressing a kiss to my head.

#harry styles imagine