Loved It!

Loved it!

Imagine coming back to town with a fiancé that no one really approves of- not your friends, not your ex, and sometimes even you find yourself doubting the relationship.

Prompt courtesy of Anonymous who said: Hey! May I request an Enzo St. John imagine in which the reader and Enzo broke up because the burdens that surrounded him were far too much to handle- but when she comes back to mystic falls with her rich hot shot boyfriend, Enzo isn’t happy. He manages to win her back & promises that life will be smoother for them from there on <33

Enzo X Reader

Returning to Mystic Falls is.. bittersweet.

It’s your hometown and it’s where a lot of your firsts had taken place. But life in the picturesque town was quickly soured, and you and your friends were let in on the horrible secret of monsters existing. And while some of these monsters were actually pretty decent folks, there were others who took joy in the kill.

You and the Scooby Gang, as Damon had dubbed you and your friends, quickly adapted to living life alongside supernatural beings. It was a dangerous life to lead, but you couldn’t exactly shun Bonnie for being a witch or Caroline who had been turned into a vampire against her will. You didn’t really care for Tyler, but the werewolf and you shared more than a few friends and the Salvatore brothers became people you found yourself not being able to drop completely.

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Love it!

Don’t get over me- Fred Weasley

Fred sits with his arms crossed and a fake smile on his face. Half listening to George who is rambling on and Fred feels like his head is spinning.

The memory of her looking insanely beautiful and yet nervous as she entered the common room. She was timid when she asked Fred if she looked okay. She was laughing when he twirled her around calling her a princess. She was blushing when he pressed a kiss to her cheek before sending her on her way, watching as Alicia double checked the girls hair and touched up her make up before sending her out of the room.

He watched on the map, that he’d asked Harry if he could borrow for the  very reason of torturing himself, as she left the castle grounds. Blood boiling at the thought of her date asking her out and then not picking her up.

Blood boiling at the thought of anyone but him asking her out.

He scowls as he sits in the courtyard, George had coaxed him out into the summer heat to help get his mind off his best friend he was in love with and her date with Adrian Pucey.

“Here comes trouble,” George calls with a smirk, the grin on his face falling immediately when he recognises the look on his girlfriends face. “Angie, what’s wrong?” He questions worriedly, jumping up from his seat to approach her.

“Fred you need to come now,” She instructs, George even more baffled and almost hurt that his upset looking girlfriend was seeking his brother for comfort.

“What’s the problem?” Fred questions, not really in the mood to deal with whatever’s happening, his plans to sulk all day ruined.

“It’s Y/N, she just-” Angelina is cut off as Fred leaps to his feet, George not sure if he should feel happy Angelina is okay or worried for his friend.

“Where is she?” Fred demands, feet already carrying him away from the others

“Her dorm, but she won’t-” Angelina sighs, giving up on trying to talk to Fred as he sprints away.

Having successfully knocked down a first year and been shouted at by Filch, Fred arrives at the Gryffindor girls dormitory. Stopping his sprint at the sight of Alicia, knocking on the door with worry in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Fred questions, panting slightly

“We aren’t really sure. We were in town and she ran past crying so obviously we followed but she’s locked herself in and she won’t talk to anyone,” Alicia explains as she moves away from the door to allow Fred to take her place.

“Thanks Al, I’ve got it from here,” he smiles to the girl who nods and leaves the best friends in peace. Fred knocks on the door

“Go away!” he hates that her shouted response is enough to let him know she’s still crying, he can hear the crack in her voice.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Can I come in?” he calls through the door.

“No!”

“Why? it’s only me I promise,” he sighs, she never turns him away.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she groans. His heart sinks in his chest.

“Lovie, I hate to be the bearer or bad news but I’ve seen you in some pretty low points, cleaned sick out of your hair, nursed you to health, we went camping and you didn’t sleep for 32 hours and couldn’t shower. Reckon I can see you upset, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he tries to compromise, his head leaning on the wooden door

“It’s embarrassing,” she cries out, voice cracking

“Whatever it is I will have done worse, besides, it’s just me sweetheart, I’m not gonna judge you,” he assures, not quite realising that it being him was the whole damn point, unable to say no to him she sighs and moves towards the door unlocking it.

Fred pushes the door open the second he hears the lock shift, throwing his arms around her in a tight bear hug as she sniffles into his shirt.

“What happened darling?” He cooes, moving carefully to sit on her bed and pulling her into his lap without a second thought, holding her to him as she stares at him. Her eyes look sore from crying and her nose is red, her makeup streaking and damp sticky cheeks and yet to Fred she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“He stood me up,” she admits, not bothering to try and hide what was sure to be the talk of the school no matter how embarrassing it is to admit to her crush. “He stood me up and his friends sat at a table and laughed at me,”

Fred feels his blood boil, his heart beating faster. He wants to throw her from his lap, find Adrian and pummel the guy to death and then find any friends involved and do the same to them.

Instead he forces himself to take a deep breath, pulling her back to his chest and stroking her back gently, whispering sweet nothings into her hair as another round of cries escapes her. He holds her close until she settles down in his lap.

“Hey, you listen to me sweetheart, he is so fucking stupid. You are the most beautiful girl on this entire planet and you are smart and kind and funny and if Adrian Pucey can’t see that then good riddance you didn’t give him a minute of your time. You can and will do so, so, so, much better than him and you saying yes to him is the best thing that’ll ever happen to him and I mean that,” He rambles, his eyes searching hers, trying to find any hurt in them so he can melt it away with gentle touches and loving words.

“I just feel so stupid,” she admits with a sigh as Fred adjusts his arms slightly to better hold her on his lap.

“He’s the stupid one. You, my lovely, are golden, and he’s an idiot if he doesn’t realise that,”

“I’m just never good enough,”

“Hey,” he scolds lightly “None of that,”

“I’m not though. Not enough for him, not enough for Cormac-”

“That was a blessing,” Fred smirks, laughing when she rolls her eyes

“Not enough for Leo, I mean I had a boy who is practically a saint and he cheated on me, not enough for my dad, not enough for you, not enough for Oli or Alex or Chr-” her ramble is cut off by Fred who’s heart is falling to his feet.

“Me? What do you mean me?” he asks, eyes wide. How had he ever let this girl think she wasn’t enough for him?

“I-it- I don’t know,” she sighs, he raises his eyebrows and she takes a deep breath before talking once more. “I guess, well- look don’t freak out alright? I’ve liked you since third year and I always just thought if I was more. Y'know prettier and smarter and funnier- I guess I just thought if I had been enough you’d like me back, but you don’t and that is fine. I don’t hold  it against you and it’s not your fault and I don’t want this to change anything and-” she cuts off her own ramble, her tears misting over once more at the feeling in her stomach. She was about to loose Fred. “Please say something,” She whispers.

Fred had never been someone who struggled to talk, but, in that moment he feels his entire world stop spinning, everything falling into place and his heart soaring.

“Like me?” He questions

“Yeah. It’s why I said yes to Adrian, thought maybe it would help me get over you,”

“Don’t do that,” He speaks too quickly “Don’t get over me,” he demands, she blinks a little “Get under me- wait!- I didn’t mean- well you can if you want I very much welcome that-I just- I have liked you since the day I met you on the train and I never said it cause I didn’t want to ruin us but, sweetheart, I liked you so much it might even be love and I have wanted this forever,” He rambles, his breathing becoming easier when a large smile overtakes her face.

“I could get under you,” she teases, giggling as he rolls his eyes, leaning down from her seat in his lap.

Her lips meet his and the whole world takes a moment. Nothing matters. Not that when he cups her cheeks in his hands her face is damp, not the slightly salty taste of her tears, not that Fred is still ready to go and kill Adrian, not that George and Angelina are listening in from behind the door, not that it could have all happened so long ago.

No.

All that matters is her and him. The feeling of him pulling her closer and the way her fingers tangle in her hair. The way they’re smiling into the kiss. The way everything fits perfectly. It’s her and it’s all they ever needed.

She pulls away breathless, giggling when Fred’s lips chase after her’s subconsciously, willing to be close to her again.

“It could definitely be love,” She whispers, her eyes fluttering open to see Fred beaming up at her.

“You think?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do,” she grins.

“I’m going to go and kill Adrian now,” Fred announces

“There’s plenty of time for that,” She argues, gripping herself to him tighter as he laughs at her clinging to him

“Something you’d rather be doing?” He teases

“I believe you mentioned something about being under you,” She smirks, Fred’s grin widening

“You’re right. Adrian can wait,”

**

Masterlist 

Ties That Bind 9/32

Pairing: MC!Bucky Barnes x Clint’s Twin Sister!Reader

Warning: Oh theeeeee language, sass, banter, violence, sexual puns, loss, abuse mentioned, possessive male characters, criminal activity, defiant females.

At the age of six, Bucky gave me a valentine’s day card, with a sloppy heart and BB scribbled inside.

At ten, he gave me a kiss on the cheek after wailing on Clint for pulling my hair.

At twelve, he pissed me off, staking claim on me in front of the others.

At fifteen, we had our first break up.

At eighteen, we graduated high school and got married.

At twenty one, everything changed.

Two years later, he’s dragging me home… to face the table and all I ran out on.

Tag List Is Open!!

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This was so amazing! I’m loving this!!

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part II (x reader)

Summary: Spencer and reader spend a lot of time together. And then he spends some time away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: typical CM violence, Spencer gets hurt but there’s no graphic descriptions 

Word count: 5k

a/n: This chapter is a little bit of a different style, because it had a lot of ground to cover! So we’ve got a few different vignettes of their first few months together— first dates and sleepovers and Spencer’s first long case away. I also worked some requests into this chapter.

———

Y/N stretched out across the bed, humming and burying her face into the pillow. She sighed and then drew in a deep breath. Her eyes blinked open as she recognized the new scent on her sheets— cedar and spice and a hint of floral. 

She moved her hand across the bed to find the sheets were cool, then raised her head to see the room was empty. The apartment was quiet, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee crept in through the bedroom door left slightly ajar. She ran a hand over her face and reached for her phone on the bedside table, tapped the screen to check the time and saw a missed text from Anita.

Anita: How did it go???????

Y/N: Good! We talked a lot. And he spent the night.

Anita: W H A T

Anita: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Y/N: Calm down. It was just a sleepover. Emphasis on the sleep. 

Anita: Sure it was 👀

Anita: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anita: 🍆🍑🍒💦

Y/N: I’m going to mute this thread.

Anita: You’re such a prude!!!!!!!

Anita: But also

Anita: This mf is still on THIN ICE with me

Anita: So tell him to sleep with one eye open 

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Ties That Bind 8

Pairing: MC!Bucky Barnes x Clint’s Twin Sister!Reader

Warning: Oh theeeeee language, sass, banter, violence, sexual puns, loss, abuse mentioned, possessive male characters, criminal activity, defiant females.

At the age of six, Bucky gave me a valentine’s day card, with a sloppy heart and BB scribbled inside.

At ten, he gave me a kiss on the cheek after wailing on Clint for pulling my hair.

At twelve, he pissed me off, staking claim on me in front of the others.

At fifteen, we had our first break up.

At eighteen, we graduated high school and got married.

At twenty one, everything changed.

Two years later, he’s dragging me home… to face the table and all I ran out on.

Tag List Is Open!!

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... And In Health

Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: A year after Jake has come to terms with his sickness, he might just have the opportunity to find the cure.

Notes/Warnings: note much, maybe some language? mostly just Jake being a sweety and being cute <3 This part is set about a year after the first one.

In Sickness...

When the waitress stops by your table for the fourth time, with a free pity-drink, your lip begins to wobble as she walks away. An hour ago you promised yourself you weren’t going to cry, at least not until you got home.

You’ve always been quick to emote, but even more so since your last breakup. Although you were shy and quiet, you hadn’t always lacked confidence in the romance department, but after finding your boyfriend sleeping with someone else, you hadn't realised the hit your self-esteem had taken until recently, when you’d started putting yourself out there again.

Suddenly instead of worrying about how your butt looked or what your hair was doing, you had deeper, far more troubling worries, like not ever being enough, and feeling like a constant burden.

Being stood up tonight was really, honestly, the very last thing you needed. Worse still, you knew that when you called your pickup, you were likely going to have to explain the situation, and that you weren’t looking forward to whatsoever. Which is why you’d been waiting out the time, so at least you might be able to convince Jake that your date had shown up.

You doubt he’ll believe you if you tried lying, your feelings were always much too clear on your face, you were practically an open book. Jake in particular always seemed to see right through you, like he was paying more attention to you, but you think he might just be observant of everyone. You wouldn’t allow yourself to go on thinking you were special in some way to him, even if the two of you had been slightly closer since your previous breakup.

You appreciated it, that’s as far as you would let yourself go. Jake had told you that he saw you as a friend, and even if you lacked self confidence in that friendship, you knew Jake was the sort of person who went hard for his friends.

Which was the whole reason he’d offered to pick you up tonight in the first place.

Your own car had been playing up and when you’d finally gotten it in the mechanics, they’d given you the unfortunate news that they weren’t going to have it back to you in time for your date tonight. You’d been telling Phoenix that you were going to cancel, as you didn’t feel comfortable being picked up by a date you didn’t know all that well, when Jake had chimed in that he would be your ride, if you still wanted to go. Although he still made you flustered when he fixed you with one of his looks, you really did trust Jake, and you wouldn’t have accepted if it were anyone else, because you also knew he would never have offered if he hadn’t meant it.

You have had a few regrets now, but you don’t let yourself linger on them. This whole situation was already pushing you to the edge, you know that Jake picking you up and likely being annoyed on your behalf shouldn’t count towards that… even if part of you feared he might start an ongoing joke about that time you were stood up.

You cringe when you shoot off an ‘all done’ text, and receive an ‘already??’ In reply, but you force yourself not to elaborate.

You don’t even have his car door shut before you’ve burst into tears.

“Hey, woah! What the hell happened?!” Jake’s voice is bewildered and slightly panicked, but quickly it turns hard. “Is he still in there? Wait here.”

Hurriedly you reach across to grab his shirt sleeve, one hand still rapidly trying to wipe your eyes, now filled with scratchy mascara specks.

“It’s fine, please. Just take me home?” You sniffle, trying your best to calm down and hope he looks past your sobbing and does as you ask. He doesn’t though, looking at you like you had absolutely lost your mind.

“You’re crying!” He gestures at you as if you weren’t away. You shake your head, before realising you can’t exactly deny it, and nod.

When he pulls open his door and steps out, he pulls himself from your grasp with little effort. Pathetically you let your hand drop and desperately wipe more at your eyes, trying to see where he’s going. You almost jump when your car door opens again and Jake appears, ducking down into your line of sight, his face stern, but his eyes slightly wide and very concerned. You feel bad for making him worry.

“Cricket,” Jake begins, digging into his glove box and pulling out a wad of face wipes. “I’m going to need you to explain to me why you are crying, otherwise I’m going in there.” He isn’t using his normal friendly voice, right now you’re confronted with Hangman, not Jake, and it actually comforts you a little. You knew how Hangman worked, Jake often gave you more cause for confusion.

“He didn’t come. I know I shouldn’t be so upset, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and—”

“—He didn’t come?!” He cuts you off, sounding disgusted, and when you look up at him, you see his lip curled and his face pulled into a snarl. You drop your gaze, and all of sudden his temper seems to disappear and change entirely.

“So you’re saying he’s not even in there for me to chat to?”

It makes you snort a little, and when you glance up at him, Hangman is gone and once again you’re with Jake. You watch him look away from you, over the top of his car roof, and let out a deep sigh, before he looks back at you, his expression unreadable, but soft.

“Here,” Jake takes the wad of wipes you’ve been holding on to and you’re too tired and worn out emotionally to protest when he tips your face up and begins cleaning off your ruined makeup. He goes about it a lot more diligently than you’d have expected, and about five minutes later, he grabs the fistful of now filthy, makeup covered tissues, and steps briefly away to throw them in a nearby bin.

When Jake returns, he doesn’t come to stand at your side again, instead he closes it and returns to the driver's seat.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, like the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. You shake your head, and rest it against the window as he lets out a breath, and begins to pull out. The hand he reaches out to balance on your car seat as he checks behind him almost makes you wish you could just hug him, but you push that feeling down.

“Alright. Let’s go get you some food then, sweetheart.”

It’s not the first time Jake has ever called you ‘sweetheart’, but it’s the first time he hasn’t been teasing you when he’s said it. Your pulse jumps at the almost casual intimacy of the way he says it, like he’d said it this way a hundred times before. Like this was something you did regularly with one another.

It’s almost a blessing he doesn’t say much else for the rest of the short drive, if you’re overthinking this much already. You feel stretched thin, tired from your work week, and even more tired now that you've expended all the effort and emotional preparation in order to come out tonight only for it to end in pure disappointment. All you want to do is hide under your blankets for the rest of the weekend, and maybe drink a bottle of red wine through a curly straw while you do.

Jake seems to have other plans though, as when the car stops at last, you aren’t outside your apartment building. Before you can even open your mouth and ask him where you are, he’s at your door again, pulling it open and holding out his hand.

“Where are we?” You know you sound silly, seeing as the big neon sign flashed bright in front of you through the window.

“At a restaurant. A good one, this time.” Is as far as Jake goes to explain to you. Dumbly, you unbuckle yourself and go to hop out of the car, forgetting that he holds a hand out for you. Jake doesn’t forget though, and quickly moves to take your hand before you can balance it on the car door.

The movement makes your pulse jump again, and this time it doesn’t stop, seemingly keeping its new fast pace going. You blink rapidly up at the blind who watches you carefully, your mouth opening, working like a fish for a moment as you try to get your brain working again, but Jake gets there before you.

“Humour me,” he says sweetly, giving your fingers a slight squeeze as he does, doubling your heartbeat again, but you can’t stop yourself from nodding. When he smiles at you, you half expect it to be a familiar cheeky smirk, but it’s not.

You let Jake help you from the car, and try to get ahold of yourself as he guides you away and toward the front door. He even leads you around the grating in the sidewalk which your high heels would surely fall through, and you wonder why you’d never considered that Jake would be a good date before. At least, you’ve never considered it beyond his cocky persona. You’ve never thought about how he would open your door for you, or gently hold your hand, or make sure you didn’t have to contend with holes in the pavement.

You’re still tired, but this turn of events shocks a small amount of adrenaline into you, and you decide that you have enough energy at least for whatever Jake has planned. Or, at the very least, you don’t have the energy to fight it, but you trust him, so you choose to trust that whatever it is, he means the best.

Jake releases your hand when he reaches for the door, and you find yourself startled by the feeling of loss that overcomes you when he does. You notice then for the first time that Jake wears a simple pair of slacks and a knit polo shirt that still sits a little rumpled from where you’d grabbed him by the sleeve earlier.

Once you’ve allowed yourself to be ushered inside the restaurant, you turn back and quickly smooth out the soft material, doing your best to be impartial to the feeling of his firm bicep under your fingertips, even though you find yourself needing to pull down the fabric where it seems to stretch even tighter around his muscled arm. Normally you really only take notice of Jake’s physique when he’s purposefully using it against you, to make you tongue-tied for his amusement, but this is really the first time you’ve found yourself up-close and personal, and you’re once more surprised by the intense desire you have to be hugged by him, to press yourself up against what you know to be his incredible strong body, feel that strength wrap itself around you.

Briefly you glance up at his face, expecting an amused smirk, but all you find is another unreadable expression, though his eyes do follow your movements closely. You finish your smoothing with a small pat, and turn away again. It takes another moment for you to feel him stir back into action behind you, and you find yourself again caught up in your thoughts as he steps slightly around you, to speak to a waiter who pops out to see you seated.

You’re vaguely aware that when you’re shown to your table, Jake pulls your chair out for you, and rests his hand briefly on your shoulder as you’re settled, squeezing it gently before he steps away to his own seat.

For a while the both of you are quiet as you mull over the menu, but the more your stomach begins to grumble, the more your senses seem to come back to you properly at last, and the bitter taste of disappointment and embarrassment that has been swirling around inside your chest and head all night begins to recede. This was just Jake, and even though sometimes he confused you, you knew Jake. You know that what he’s doing right now is his own way of hugging you and telling you it’ll be okay, like Phoenix would if she were in his place.

Your shoulders, which you hadn’t even realised had been slightly raised, relax as you place down your menu and take to studying the man in front of you instead. You’re able to watch him for a good minute before he turns the page of his menu, long enough to know he wasn’t reading it at all.

“I like Italian,” you venture, though your inflection makes it sound a little like a question, one you’re not sure you have the courage yet to ask.

“I know.” Jake replies, at last dropping the laminated booklet and linking his hands together on the table in front of him. You want to challenge him, but you stop yourself, figuring that knowing what your friends liked was the least someone could do.

You soften a little then, and drop your gaze to your place setting, straightening the silverware nervously, feeling his gaze locked on to you, and you chance peeking up at him as you talk.

“You really don’t have to–” you don’t even get to finish speaking before his sharp gaze flashes, eyes narrowing and he lowers his chin. “If you want dessert you won’t finish that sentence,” his words are humorous, but his voice maintains a level of sternness that you’d heard earlier when he’d been worried. You wonder if he usually masked his concern or anxiety with hardness. You wonder if that worked for him like it worked for you. You can’t deny that his cutting through your shit to get at the real problem was helpful when you were so prone to brushing off your own comfort for the sake of others.

Jake sighs then, but doesn’t even look away from you as he picks up the carafe of water and pours you each a glass.

“I’m not letting you go home tonight with that being the last date under your belt,” he sounds more casual now, and there's an offended scoff that punctuates his words, like the idea insulted him as well as you.

“This isn’t a date, though,” you hear yourself argue, though it's more out of sheer confusion than any real protest. You regret it immediately though, as Jake’s signature smirk makes an appearance, and he unfolds his hands to fix you with pure amusement.

You almost jump right out of your skin when something warm brushes over your hand again, and you realise too late that he’s taking it in his own, leaning toward you and cocking his head as his thumb begins brushing softly across the tops of your fingers, like he knew his actions have frozen you in place.

“Sure it is,” he tells you, and that seems to be that.

It takes you a moment to reboot your brain.

“You took all my makeup off…!” you protest after a moment, letting your arm go more slack as the feeling returns to the hand he holds. Jake raises an eyebrow, lips twitching.

“Don’t need it,” he shrugs, before relenting some. “For what it’s worth, in the two seconds I saw you before you started crying, it looked nice.”

You’re forced to reconcile with the idea that Jake thought you looked nice, and attempt to work out what that means for you now.

“Oh… Thank you…” is all you’re able to say, and are immediately greeted once again with his regular smirk, though it feels a little softer around the edges now, almost tender, but you think that must be only in your imagination.

“This is when you tell me how handsome I look,” Jake prompts, and you could roll your eyes and laugh him off, but the more you think about it, the more you actually agree with him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” you say, meaning it, finally able to laugh softly when he preens obviously at the praise.

“And have I been working out?” he’s definitely teasing you now, but you don’t mind so much, because his thumb is still slowly moving in circles over your fingers, which you’ve only just realised do feel rather cold.

“You’re always working out.” you tell him, your brows furrowing just a little but only for show. Jake fixes you with an amused expression and shakes his head. His hand tightens around yours just a little.

“Not always. Sometimes I take beautiful, lovely women out on dates.” he corrects you. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you blink at him, dazed.

“Sorry to interrupt your plans, then,” you joke, but it comes out a little more self-deprecating than you really mean. Jake narrows his eyes at you again.

“Are you questioning my tastes?”

“Almost always.”

“I’ll have you know that you are both beautiful, and inarguably lovely, Cricket.”

His words make you stare dumbly at him, mouth once more working like a fish to try and figure out what it is you’re supposed to say to that. You don't realise until it's too late that you’ve said those words aloud.

Jake smiles, full and wide and not teasing at all this time.

“You say ‘thank you, baby. This is the best date I’ve ever been on’,” he almost sing-songs.

“I’m not calling you ‘baby’!” you sputter, your brain going into overdrive at the thought of Jake calling you baby.

“Not yet you aren’t,” Jake blinks slowly at you, but he doesn’t back down from the statement, staring at you until you’re the one forced to look away, and he speaks again. “But I can be patient. I’ve been patient.”

You find yourself transfixed by what he could possibly mean by the fact that he’s been patient, but you don’t get the opportunity to ask, because your waiter returns and watch enamoured as Jake orders for you, not really that surprised that he knows what you want, but surprised that you’re so quickly becoming normalised to this behaviour from him.

Oddly, as dinner goes on, you almost forget that it’s Jake you’re with. He seems softer, gentler in a way that you hadn’t been aware existed within him, but in a way that you aren’t sure how you’re going to live without once he drops you home again and the spell is broken. In your minds eye, you realise that day to day you’ve seen glimpses of this Jake, when he’d wordlessly begun offering you a hand when you’d climb up to your jet around a year ago now, or how he’d normally complain about the amount of time everybody else took with their shots at darts, but sometimes when it was just the two of you he simply waits quietly for you to line yourself up properly, even occasionally giving you an ego-free pointer that always helped.

You wonder how often other people saw this side of Jake, and if you might be able to convince you into showing you more. For once his perpetual amusement and teasing seems to be at bay, and you’d like to think that this is the way he is in the quiet times, in the morning before his coffee, or in the grocery store. You can picture him in these times, but more importantly you want to see him in these times, more than you might have thought you would, more than out of simple curiosity.

His fingers lacing with yours after your plates are cleared makes you think once more of his talk of patience, and you wonder briefly if he wanted you to see him like this too.

“Absolutely not,” Jake quickly cuts in when you both stand by back near the entrance, reviewing the bill. The card you hold out, and the hand it’s in are engulfed suddenly by his much larger one, and even as the waiter smiles between the two of you, Jake doesn’t let you escape his grasp, holding you firmly in place as he hands his own card over.

“Jake!” you grumble, trying to pull your fist out of his, but he simply tightens his hold and gives the waiter a look like ‘can you believe this woman’.

“I’m so sorry about her, she hasn’t been taken out properly in a while, she’s forgotten all about how dates are supposed to work,” Jake tells the waiter conspiratorially, voice thick with faux-sympathy, like your cause was truly tragic. Your protests are fully silenced however, when he shoots you a pitying look, and brings your enclosed fist to his lips, kissing it softly like you were a sick puppy or something of the like.

You know he’s aware of the effect he has on you, it was why he teased you so much, but for the first time ever, you think he’s actually using it properly against you to get his way, and unfortunately, you aren’t even able to summon much annoyance about it. Quite the opposite in fact, his display makes your argument fall quiet and your heart skip several beats as he kisses your fingers tenderly again, before offering it back to you at last.

Quietly, you put your card away and bite your lip as he finishes paying.

—

“Jake,” you begin slowly, having taken most of the car ride so far to gather your thoughts together.

“Cricket,” Jake matches your tone and cadence, while shooting you an amused smile.

“Why did you hold my hand?” you try your best to ignore him, and shift slightly in your seat. Jake seems to shift too, but he only glances briefly over at you this time.

“Do you mean ‘why am I still holding your hand?’?” he squeezes your aforementioned hand, still in his grip and laying on the centre console. When he shoots you another amused grin, he’s met only with your pursed lips. Placing his gaze back toward the road, he rolls his eyes a little.

“Because I want to? I don’t know, feels kinda nice, don’t ya think?” Jake clears his throat a little, before a frown begins forming between his eyebrows and he seems to lurch. “Unless it doesn’t, in which case–” he begins to loosen his grip on you, but before you can think too much about what you’re doing, you tighten your own fingers laced through his, and give him an even more unimpressed look.

“So it does feel nice, note taken.”

You sit in silence for a few more minutes, in which time Jake begins slowly stroking his thumb across the back of your hand. When you do finally pull up to your apartment block, you feel the need to say something, but you don’t know what, so you keep quiet as Jake puts his car into park.

“Wait here,” he tells you and before you can really respond, he’s jumping out of the car and loping around to your side, opening the door with a gallant smile.

“You know, you’re a pretty good date, Jake,” you say softly, letting him take your hand once again and help you out of the car. Jake beams at you in an almost boyish manner that makes you want to squish his cheeks, but you refrain.

“Why thank you,” he says proudly, making you smile too.

You stand and stare at one another for a moment once you’re settled on your heels, and Jake cocks his head at you, before offering out his hand for you. Biting your lip slightly, you can’t help but look at your feet as you reach out and take the offered hand, feeling your chest go all warm again when he adjusts his hold to be more firm, and you both begin walking again.

Jake lets you take more of a lead, even though you know he knows where you live, considering he had been one of the friends you’d enlisted to help you move out of your old place. You can’t help but wonder if all this hand-holding was going to affect your friendship now, or what it even meant for your friendship. Your mind goes back to what Jake had said about patience at dinner, and what that meant.

Biting your lip again, you come to a stop in front of your apartment door, taking your hand back reluctantly so that you can pull your key from your purse and unlock your door.

“You aren’t going to cry again once I’m gone, are you?” Jake suddenly asks, making you blink back at him. He shoves both hands in his pockets and purses his lips. “Can’t be having that, now can we?” he says as if that explained his concern.

“No… No, I feel a lot better now,” you tell him, and you really do mean it. “Thank you for dinner.”

Jake stares at you, like he often does when he’s trying to make someone crack. Usually it worked pretty well on you, but you have nothing to crack over right now, so you simply stare back at him and shrug.

“I’m glad you feel better, Cricket. I don’t like seeing you upset.” Jake tells you, and even though his expression is humorous, his voice is stern and sincere, and it makes your stomach twist and turn violently in a way you’ve felt it attempt to do several times recently, but you’ve never let yourself linger on. It's as though all at once you can’t stop it, and an explosion of butterflies takes the place of all your internal organs.

“What was that?” Jake murmurs, and you blink at the step he takes forward, his brow furrowed in concern. You realise you’ve spoken the question that’s been on your mind out loud, and you swallow thickly as you try to gather yourself again.

“I… Earlier, you said you’ve been patient… what did that mean?” you ask, chewing the inside of your lip, wondering if you even want this question answered in the first place.

Jake cocks his head at you, and you can’t help but take note of how his lips quirk in the corners, like he thought it was adorable that you even had to ask.

“It means,” Jake begins, stepping even closer, and resting his arm on the wall above your head. “That about a year ago, I realised that I wanted to kiss you, and a year later, I still do.”

You stare up at him, and try to refrain from moving too much, as if he might disappear if you did.

“But only if you want me to,” he adds after a moment, beginning to peel back from you. Once more you don’t think too hard about what your body does, and you realise too late that your hand has shot out to rest against his chest, smoothing over his collar. Jake stops in his retreat and fixes you in his gaze again, even as your mouth opens and closes silently. You frown at your own inability to talk, and feel a pit begin to open in your stomach, sucking up the butterflies let loose there.

Jake frowns down at you, as if he can read your thoughts, and gently covers your hand with his own.

“Do you want me to?” he asks softly, and you’re glad he doesn’t make you say it, you aren’t sure you’re ready to ask yet, but you think he might understand this about you.

You nod at him and hold your breath as he seems to cock his head again. Briefly you see him smile, full and warm, but quickly you’re gasping softly as he kisses you.

Kissing Jake has been something you’ve refused to let yourself think about, repressing the thought so much that you’re truly surprised by how good he is at it. It makes sense, you think, that Jake would be a great kisser, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve never ever been kissed like this before, either. If this was what you’d been missing out on for a year, you feel foolish and idiot, because right now you vow that you will let Jake kiss you whenever he wants, wherever he wants from now on.

When at last he pulls away, you relish in the way his hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping back and forth tenderly.

“I don’t know about you, Cricket,” he says, making your chest flutter when he nuzzles at your nose sweetly. “But I think that feels kinda nice too, don’t you think?” he places another, much chaster kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Yes, Jake. I think it feels nice, too.”

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