#And I think that's part of why I love this moment too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1d1195 · 3 days ago

Text

The Lottery V

Read The Lottery here | ~8.7k words

From me: the idea of making this two shorter parts or one long part was a very difficult decision. Hopefully you'll enjoy 💕 I think you'll see Peach and Harry again soon 🥰 you get to find out why I named it The Lottery too

Warnings: you get to find out why Harry is so grumpy so it's angsty and sad af I think. There is def some fluffy and love parts for sure!

Summary: Harry loves peaches. And Peach. She is quite possibly the most important person Harry has ever met.

*I highly recommend listening to Home Run by The Man The Myth The Meatslab*

After work, Harry ran errands. He went to the grocery store for his own house and planned on ordering take out because after working and all the errands, making a whole meal sounded horrible. As he approached the door with arms full of grocery bags, he swore he heard music playing loudly from inside.

He had to be imagining it.

But he tried the handle and was surprised (but also unsurprised) that it was unlocked. The second the door was out of the way she was in front of him. “Hi!” She cheered excitedly, grabbing two bags from his arms and turning quickly to the kitchen to bring them to the table. He stared at her, nearly unblinking as she continued stirring something on the stove. “I found this recipe that I wanted to try,” she explained. Was he dreaming? Most of his dreams involving the pretty bookstore owner and town princess were similar to this moment. Nothing really out of the ordinary except she was in his house, maybe he called it their house in his sleep. But the groceries were heavy on his arm, and he didn’t usually feel pain in the dreams.

“So y’broke into m’house?”

“You break into my house all the time.”

“Because y’leave the door unlocked. You had t’use m’key.”

She huffed. “Look.”

But there was nothing to look at. She kept watching her food cooking. Harry ignored it and put his groceries away. “Do y’need help?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I thought you were going to be home sooner. It’s almost done. I hope you didn’t have plans.”

Any plans Harry would have had would be canceled the moment he saw her. “No plans,” he assured her. “M’jus’... gonna put this stuff away,” he mumbled referring to the bathroom and cleaning items. Harry returned to her putting a plate together and setting it on the table before putting her own plate together. Then they sat and ate at his small dinner table in the middle of his kitchen. It was quiet, they didn’t speak, and she scrolled on her phone as she nibbled on her food. “Peach?” He said quietly. “Something wrong?” He asked.

“What could possibly be wrong?” But whether she realized it or not, she was holding the little moon charm between her fingers, rubbing her thumb along it like it would fix everything.

“Peach. Shouldn’t y’be... I don’t know... out with Malcolm?”

She paused very briefly and put her phone aside before she cut into the delicious-looking fish she prepared. It was covered in a layer of crunchy breadcrumbs and spices. It was beside roasted broccoli with a sprinkle of the same breadcrumbs and spices. Along with cheesy yet somehow creamy scallop potatoes. It smelled incredible and Harry didn’t think he deserved such a nice welcome home. Especially when she was seeing someone else. “No,” she whispered quietly.

Harry wasn’t going to harp on it if she wasn’t. Especially when she looked so upset about it. “Alright,” he said simply and dug into his own delicious food. They ate silently, her scrolling on her phone, reading emails and work orders. She had her to do list notebook beside her as well and she scribbled some thoughts onto the paper. Harry grabbed his book when he got up to grab them drinks. He put more potatoes on his plate and returned to sit across from her reading silently while they ate.

Harry cleaned up while she found a TV show to watch. Something silly and easy to watch. She was snug in the corner of his sofa and Harry sat at the other end. Once he was seated, she stretched out putting her feet in his lap and throwing the blanket along the back of the couch across them. Harry dropped his hand onto her legs and mindlessly rubbed over her blanket covered body. They silently watched TV like they silently ate dinner.

She was used to long periods of silence with Harry. This time was no different. But it was. Because Harry was her very best friend and she was in love with him but couldn’t have him.

“Peach?” He asked. “You’re crying,” he murmured, concern laced in his voice.

“Fuck,” she whispered and turned her head the other way swiping at her cheeks. His grip tightened on her leg.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just... don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he assured her quickly, squeezing his hold on her shin. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s not like we were in love or anything,” she mumbled. “I just... I feel so underestimated all the time and so...” she swallowed. “No one in my life seems to believe in me... and not like the people in town. Everyone is so lovely for accepting me. I don’t even know why I need approval from people who I hardly see anymore or new people who hardly care about this place... but I do. I need it more than I realize, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why they don’t believe in me,” her voice was so quiet and soft.

“Then fuck them,” he squeezed her leg again. It was the only thing he could do.

She laughed, tears leaking from her eyes again, but it was an honest to God laugh. Harry hated seeing her vulnerable like that. She was amazing in every possible way. It was a tragedy that she could ever see anything but perfection. He smiled. Not quite those rare, genuine smiles that she saw in his eyes that only really appeared around Gemma or Louis. But it was gentle, warm, and made her feel like she would really be okay. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, Peach. Of course. Thank you for dinner. Y’didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I figured if I only ever made food for you when you were sick, you would think we weren’t really friends,” she smiled.

He chuckled quietly, a huff of laughter that he covered with a shake of his head. He turned back to their show and kept his hand moving along the blanket.

“Peach?”

“Hmm?”

“Think you’re m’best friend.”

“Me too, Harry.”

If Harry wasn’t working, he would find himself at her bookshop, sitting between shelves on the floor, reading and watching her at work. Watching her during reading-hour was one of his favorite things. Watching her tutor was also a delight. But watching her read while waiting for customers behind the checkout counter was by far the best. The quiet of the moment, the beautiful, peaceful expression on her perfect face.

“You’re staring at me,” she nearly sang while flipping to the next page.

He looked back at his book.

“Now you’re blushing,” she giggled.

He put his book in front of his face to hide from her.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“It’s cathartic,” he mumbled.

She grinned. She loved it when Harry read his books in front of her while she worked. There weren’t many ways he could reciprocate the way she sat at his counter and watched him cook breakfast and serve lunch. He was handsome and sweet. Her very best friend.

She came home to find Harry on her sofa laying across it with the clicker in hand. “Hi,” she blinked in surprise.

“I ordered pizza, s’in the kitchen,” he told her.

She nodded. “Sure,” she glanced at him curiously and walked to her bedroom to change into something cozier. The entire time she heard the TV going, which meant Harry was still there. She didn’t mind his presence. Not in the slightest. But she wasn’t used to seeing him laying on her couch like he lived there. He was usually fixing something or making dinner. This was peaceful and gentle. She went to the kitchen next, grabbed the pizza and headed to the living room again. She curled in the chair turned toward the sofa and TV for conversation and Harry merely continued watching TV as if this wasn’t a crazy moment.

“Everything alright?” She asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

“So, it’s okay when you break into my house?”

His lips twitched in his signature smirk, and he shrugged one shoulder. She nodded, biting into her pizza and turned her attention to her TV.

They traded off randomly appearing in each other’s homes. But it didn’t take a genius to recognize she wasn’t in his house when she was seeing another guy. Harry still visited her at work but when she talked about the guy she was seeing, he tried to keep his distance at her home to a minimum. It wasn’t fair to her to make that choice and if she was going to be in love she deserved to be in love with someone that wasn’t so grumpy and irritated with the town she loved so much.

But she still came to the diner and even introduced a few of the men in her life to Harry. She convinced Harry to help each Christmas and had him make hot dogs and hamburgers for cookouts in the summer. During the fall he provided hot apple cider per her request and helped her decorate the outside of the bookstore. In the winter he checked on her pipes and after her washing machine broke, he went with her to purchase a new one to make sure they didn’t try to swindle her of more money just because she was sweet and pretty. He even installed it himself.

But one day she came home to get ready for her date with Bodie. She liked him a lot. He was kind, funny, and intelligent. He worked hard and appreciated her love for the small town.

However, instead of heading to her bedroom to change and do her hair and makeup, she found Harry on her sofa. Which was weird as she had noticed the pattern of him staying away from her house when she was in a relationship. “Hey,” she frowned. “You okay, Harry?” She asked.

“Yeah,” his voice was quiet. He was turned toward the back of the couch. “Are y’busy tonight?”

She frowned. “Um... not till later. What’s wrong?”

“Jus’... wanted t’see you,” he mumbled. “Feel like I haven’t seen y’much.”

Did he sniffle? Her heart was going to break. She set her stuff in the middle of the floor and approached him like he was a wild animal. Not because she worried about her safety or that he would attack her. But because Harry was grumpy and angry. He was short and hardly smiled.

Harry was never vulnerable and that terrified her. If he cried, she was done for. Quietly, she sat on the coffee table facing him and watching for signs of trouble or something worse. “Yeah... sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busier than usual lately.” He didn’t respond, just stared at the back of the couch. She reached out. “Harry—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly, his voice shook, and it felt like a knife to her heart. Quickly, she dropped her hand to her lap. After a moment, she nodded, and he turned to lie on his back. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t have come over,” he said. “I don’t mean t’bother you,” he pulled his hand away and she noted how red his eyes looked. Like he had been crying and so that knife in her heart turned into an entire sword.

“Course you should have, Harry. That’s what friends are for,” she promised.

“Y’have plans,” he mumbled.

She shook her head. “My only plan right now is to be here for you, Harry,” she assured him. “Move your head.” He sat up. She quickly got herself situated at the end of the sofa and then pulled him gently by the shoulder to lay his head in her lap. Her hand immediately dove into his hair. This was the closest they had ever been, and she knew it wasn’t a good move for her heart or her head, but her best friend was sad. So, she couldn’t care about that.

Instead, she watched the show he put on, combed her fingers through his hair, and ignored when the tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

At some point she must have lost track of time, her leg was numb, her fingers were still curled around his soft locks. The TV show had caught her attention more than she thought. Harry was asleep, peaceful and she wished she could have pressed more. It killed her to not help him more, but he was quiet as always. Never letting her in deeper than need be. Sure, she read between the lines, but it hurt a little that he didn’t feel he could open himself up to her. But she understood. Harry was closed off for a reason and that was very okay.

The only reason she ignored the way her leg was losing circulation, and she wasn’t lost in the way his hair felt between her fingers was because of the knock at her door.

Fuck. She mouthed to herself. Slowly she untangled herself from Harry. She carefully lifted his head and placed it gently on the sofa. He turned, settling into sleep and she limped to the door with her leg nearly asleep.

“Hey, love,” Bodie smiled leaning in to peck her cheek. “You ready to go?”

She smiled softly. “I’m so sorry, I should have canceled,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong with Harry and he’s—”

The smile on his face immediately disappeared. “Oh, for the love of God,” he rolled his eyes.

The frown on her face settled and she tilted her head. “What?”

“It’s just... you talk about Harry all the time. He’s your best friend, I get it. But don’t you understand how difficult it is to think about you with another man?”

She bit her lip and looked at her feet. “We’re just friends.”

“I understand, but are you going to put him first forever? Everything you do revolves around this place, the diner, your bookstore. Don’t you want to live?”

She frowned. “I think you should go,” she whispered without looking up.

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing,” he sighed and headed back to his car. She watched him leave, her heart aching, but it wasn’t hard to notice that it didn’t ache nearly as much as Harry’s sadness made her feel.

When she closed the door, she found Harry sitting on the sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey,” he murmured. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

She shrugged, sat on the chair. But she missed the way his head felt on her leg and how his hair felt between her fingers. “It’s okay.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are y’doing here, Peach?” He asked.

“I live here,” she laughed.

“Peach,” he sighed. “Here. In this town. Y’could be running a company, or... mayor of an actual town. Y’would probably be making more money in a city with a bigger house that didn’t have bad pipes even after y’replaced them.”

“Well... that’s not—”

“He was right,” Harry interrupted making her chest hurt again. The sword turned into a harpoon. “Don’t y’want t’live, Peach? There’s no living here. S’nearly the same thing all the time.”

She swallowed. “Harry,” she frowned.

“I’ve been here m’whole life and s’not...” he rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re too good for this place.” She felt tears prick her eyes. The heartache about Harry’s sadness, Bodie’s uncalled for breakup (even if she wasn’t upset about the breakup), and now... “Stop, I didn’t mean t’make y’cry,” he said hurriedly. “Fuck. Don’t listen t’me. M’jus’...” he shook his head. “M’fucking sad and m’taking it out on you. After y’were so nice t’me and I ruined your date and—”

She smiled, her heart aching a little less. “I’m glad you did,” she sniffled. “I guess—”

“Peach.”

“—I guess I just never liked the city, and I just wanted the feel of being known and not—”

“Peach.”

“—and not just some random person that no one would ever really know because it’s too big out there. There is so much and I’m not—”

“Peach,” Harry’s voice was soft, and he pulled her toward him and cupped the back of her head as he pulled her into his chest. His chin resting on top of her head and he sighed. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want you t’go anywhere,” he promised.

She clung to him and nodded. There was nothing else to say.

For all the guys she brought around, Harry never brought a single girl around and she could never figure out why. But she never asked. She assumed if he didn’t want to tell her, then he didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, she asked him for pancakes that he didn’t want to make. Ordered pizza and only went over to his house when she wasn’t in a relationship.

He smacked her hand when she reached for sugar and cream. He rolled his eyes when she left her stuff on the counter for hours at a time. When she needed help stocking the shelves he was there. When she shoveled the driveways of everyone in town so did he. He hung up her Christmas lights and made sure she had hot chocolate on cold days.

She made him soup when he didn’t feel well. Made sure she stocked books that were cathartic. Helped serve at the diner when it was busy. And most importantly didn’t tell anyone he was dressed as Santa each year.

“Can I have a white chocolate chip pancake and a peach pancake?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please, please!”

“No.”

“Did you see the moon?”

“Yes, Peach, s’very pretty today.”

“Do you know how to change a lighting fixture?”

“I’ll come over later.”

Whenever he returned from the kitchen with pancakes, there was always a peach pancake hiding the one white chocolate chip below it.

“Muffin today?”

“Please.”

“Did you rotate your tires?”

“Every time I drive.”

“I need some new shirts, could y’go with me?”

“Is this so you can take my car to the shop?”

“Yes.”

“I would love to.”

And so, it went on.

Then there was Alex.

No one liked him. They tolerated him for her benefit. There was honestly nothing wrong with him. He was a lot like Bodie. Smart, funny, kind. He had his own business in the city. He supported her. Appreciated her kindness for the small town and like her business. He was also handsome if you were into that sort of thing (which Harry begrudgingly accepted). He didn’t feel threatened by Harry and thought that the idea of settling in a small town was going to be great for family life.

Which was probably why they had been dating for a year. There was sincerely nothing wrong with him.

Except he was not Harry, and everyone in town noticed that for sure.

Alice had no trouble telling Harry that.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Alice,” Ed sighed.

“Harry, we’ve been coming in here for ages and you have never looked at anyone the way you look at her.”

His lips twitched but he hid it because she was still his best friend, and he wanted her to be happy. Harry wasn’t a happy person. Perhaps he never would be. So, if she was in love with Alex, then she was in love with Alex.

And if she stopped coming to his house unannounced then he was fine with that.

Totally, completely fine with it (and he definitely didn’t need to buy a new refrigerator for opening the door so hard it broke at the hinge).

“Did you see the moon!?” There was so much delight in her eyes. Harry had heard her say it so many times, it instinctively brought a smile to his face (internally). He had never met anyone so excited about the moon even when it was out seven days a week.

Harry discreetly glanced out the picture window of the diner and caught a glimpse of it. Alex was looking at his phone while she nearly snapped her neck to get a better view of it.

“Honey, seriously! It’s so pretty today, and you can see Venus next to it and it’s just so lovely,” she sighed and got up grabbing his arm. But he nearly paid no mind to her.

“Alex, look—”

“Oh my god. I don’t want to look at the moon! It’s the same moon I’ve seen for years. I don’t care.”

She swallowed the words in her throat. She took a deep breath and returned to her seat. Not at the counter. Quietly, she poked at her food and sipped her tea. Harry thought her eyes looked shiny. The whole diner heard it. Harry felt the smile (internally) fall off his face.

How could he hurt her like that? He wanted to kill him. It was much too quiet and uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she started with small talk. Things she was going to do that day, errands she needed to run.

The entire time, her fingers danced along the charm around her neck.

Hey

Hi...

Everything alright?

Yeah, why?

You don’t usually text me. Unless you want to tell me I’m not allowed to leave my stuff at the counter even though I’m coming back later.

He sent an eye roll emoji. It was hard to be nice to her when she was annoying. But not really.

Yeah... fine. Just...

I was taking the trash out behind the diner... and...

The moon looks really pretty tonight. Have you seen it?

Her heart softened reading the message. She knew what he was doing even if he was trying to be sly about it. But she loved the moon. She stretched in her hammock to look between branches of the trees she was sitting below. Yeah, she had seen the moon already. It was all she could look at tonight. But when Harry said it, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him she already saw it. Not ever.

Oh! Yes, I hadn’t seen it yet. Look at that :)

Hope you’re relaxing. You deserve it. Night, Peach.

Night, Harry. Sleep well ❤️

There was something about looking at the same moon Harry was at that moment. Sharing something that they weren’t even in the same room for. But maybe, mostly because he had remembered how much it meant to her when no one else did.

Harry continued to message her about the moon every time he saw it over the next few months.

He took a screenshot of that sweet message she sent with the little heart emoji. He wanted to frame it and put it in the diner.

Maybe one day he would.

Harry entered his place, and it smelled like baked goods. But to his knowledge they hadn’t broken up. In fact, she hinted that wedding bells were in her future, (so Harry now needed a new stove because the oven door faced the same fate as his refrigerator).

He also wasn’t sick. So, she wasn’t making soup for him. There was no holiday or festival in sight, so she didn’t need help. It wasn’t winter so her pipes probably weren’t broken. So why was she there? Baking in his house? “Peach?” He called.

“Did you move the flour?”

“The cabinet on the right.”

“I’m making cookies for the kids—”

“Peach.”

“—they have their big exams coming up—”

“Peach.”

“I saw this recipe and thought I would give it a try.

“Peach.”

“I thought I had everything, but I always forget something.”

“Peach. Why aren’t y’with Alex?”

She stopped, gripping the side of the counter in front of the sink. She looked at the ceiling. “Because I need my best friend,” her voice cracked, and she sniffled before she wiped her arm across her nose. She shook her head and turned the sink on to wash her hands again.

Harry nodded to himself. Not knowing what was happening but couldn’t bring himself to care. He put his hand on her back briefly and she sniffled again as he grabbed the flour for her. He settled it on the counter and turned her toward him and cupped the back of her head the way he did when Bodie broke up with her. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine while she sobbed into his shirt. The ache he felt for her sadness made him want to cry himself.

He kissed the top of her head. “M’sorry, Peach,” he whispered.

She continued crying for a while. Her hands covering her face as she leaned into Harry’s embrace enjoying the feel of him cradling her like she was something precious. “Did y’see the moon, Peach?” He hummed quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s a new moon today,” she told him.

He snorted. “S’what I get for trying t’help.”

She laughed through her tears making him smile. Perhaps it was because they were in the privacy of his home, and he was heartbroken by her sadness.

But his smile was real and stretched across his face for anyone to see.

Even if it was just the sweet girl in his arms.

Harry didn’t ask any more questions about why she needed him. They baked cookies in silence and Harry made her dinner because it had been a long while since they had a dinner in his place. He made her favorite pasta dish and packaged it up so she could take it home when she ate no more than five bites of it.

Instead, they watched TV in silence. Seated on two different pieces of furniture and he glanced at her way too often assuring himself that she was okay when she didn’t seem to be at all. Eventually, he noted her eyes were shut, her neck awkwardly turned and slumped against the corner of the sofa.

Carefully, he took her shoes off. Brought her feet onto the couch turning her ever so gently because he didn’t want to wake her. He made sure the remote was within reach on the coffee table. Then he covered her with a blanket.

He would be up before her for the early morning breakfast, so he left her a note to come get her silly pancakes. Or her weird omelets if she wanted them. He would even throw in a muffin to go, and her coffee would be cold just the way she liked.

Then Harry went to bed with the sweet bookstore owner on his couch.

They didn’t talk about the night before. Harry didn’t smack her hand away from the cream and sugar but only because she didn’t reach. When she only ate two bites of her pancakes, he packaged them up for her to take home. They didn’t speak and Harry didn’t read her little to-do list.

“Have a good day, Harry,” she murmured getting up from her seat.

“Peach?” He asked.

She looked up at him, her fingers touching the moon charm once more. His eyes flicked to the movement and then back to her eyes. Saddened, exhausted. God, was that what Harry looked like? No wonder she was constantly trying to make him better.

But she couldn’t look that way. No. She was perfect. Pretty and lovely. Intelligent and kind. She couldn’t get grumpy the way Harry had. “New moons symbolize new beginnings.”

She smiled, it hardly reached her eyes, but it was better than the flat expression across her face. Her cheeks glowed a little brighter, her eyes a little less sad. “Yeah,” she nodded. “They do.”

“So... every twenty-nine and a half days... y’can start over if y’have to. If y’need to.”

She nodded again and smirked. “Twenty-nine and a half? Did you do some research?” She laughed from the doorway.

“Something like that.”

What Harry hadn’t anticipated was her coming back for dinner. He assumed with all the leftovers she would be happy at home. Her dose of her grumpy friend no longer necessary. Perhaps she would call Bailey, who was arguably a much better person to assist her in relationship troubles. Or even Louis would have been a better call. At least that may have ended in some laughs at Harry’s expense.

But instead, she was back at the diner. Sitting at the counter as if it were the morning.

Harry headed back to the grill to get plates of food and returned to find Alex sitting beside her. She faced forward. No food in front of her, just her eyes focusing on the pots of coffee that were empty—waiting to be refilled for the morning.

“I didn't mean for it to happen. But when I look at her, my bones ache, love. I want you to have that. I want you to have a love like that. But you won't have it with me,” he told her.

She continued staring at the back wall behind the counter. Swallowing hard. Trying to ignore him. He pleaded with her. Only to make himself feel better for breaking her heart, Harry was sure. For stringing her along. How could she love so hard and not have someone love her back? She won’t ever forgive him. She can’t do it anymore. It’s not fair.

“Alex, just go,” She closed her eyes, and her voice felt weak. She was exhausted. It was plain on her face. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Especially not to Alex.

“Honey...”

“No.” Her voice was just a hair stronger than it was a moment before.

“Please just let me—"

“I really need you to leave,” her words were shaky. Cracking on every other syllable. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter. Like she could make the image of him breaking up with her in front of everybody go away. This was a dream. She was going to wake up any minute. But the pain was a lot. It felt like someone had ripped her tired, broken heart out of her chest.

“I don’t want you to think—"

Without warning, she slammed her fist on the counter gathering the attention of everyone in the diner. “I need you to leave,” her voice was so quiet. So different than the shake she just gave the counter, let alone the entire diner. Harry felt horrible. So completely horrible.

With a long look, Alex stared at her before leaving without so much as another word of apology.

Without truly realizing, Harry had followed him outside after the unending silence.

"Hey!” Harry had never confronted one of her boyfriends before. Not the one that told her she ate too many pancakes. Not the one that told her that her bookstore wouldn’t survive in a small place like this. Not the guy that told her she looked better when she styled her hair on special occasions. Or even Bodie who thought she was more than this town and even if that was true, he could have supported her anyway.

But this one... this one that just stopped loving her. Because of someone else. As if someone else could possibly compare to the most beautiful, kindest, most intelligent person he had ever met.

Alex turned around and sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "Harry, I didn't mean to—"

"You jus’ lost the lottery,” he interrupted. His heart was pounding, and it felt separate from his brain. Like he is all too aware that his heart shouldn’t beat that fast nor be beating so hard for the girl that was heartbroken at the counter. But he couldn’t figure out why he chose today to confront Alex... and even his own feelings.

There was a deafening silence as he processed Harry’s words. "One in a billion. No. One in eight billion." Harry didn't move, just stared at him. "And you're throwing her away," he shook his head slowly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed, defeat falling over his posture.

"I'm sorry,” Alex said. “But I couldn’t... we all deserve happiness,” he promised. “Even idiots like me.”

Harry had nothing else to say to him, so he returned inside. People were staring at her silently as they pecked at their plates of food. Individually, Harry headed to each table and quietly requested that every one of them leave.

Food’s on the house.

I think she needs a minute alone.

Please, just go quietly.

Once everyone was outside, he left a crate in front of the door for empty dishes for people to finish and return once they left. Harry flipped the open sign to close. He headed to the kitchen and whipped up the fastest batch of pancakes he had ever made: one peach and one white chocolate chip.

“I wish someone loved me that much,” she whispered to no one.

Harry came from the back and set the two pancakes in front of her. He met her teary gaze with his.

“Eat your pancakes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Peach,” his voice was gentle but still very firm. “Eat them, please,” he repeated.

She picked up her fork and drowned the plate in syrup. Harry wondered why she didn’t just drink it straight from the bottle. Mum was insistent that food would cure anything. A cold. a broken leg.

A broken heart.

She had tears rolling down her cheeks as she ate but Harry ignored it. “Never had a peach and white chocolate chip pancake before.”

She sniffled. “Yeah?”

He smirked. “Been making them for you for so many years. But no... Never.”

She smirked through her tears. “Figured you were eating them back there to keep your ratios on par,” she cut a piece of each one off and held her fork out to him. He took the bite enjoying the little piece of her that existed in her favorite breakfast. It was delicious. He could see why she would want one of each.

He chuckled around the bite. “Gave up on worrying ‘bout the ratios,” he shrugged.

“How come?”

“Y’eat them enough t’save the ratio in spades.” Harry felt like he won the lottery just by hearing her laugh; especially when she probably didn’t want to. “Do y’want t’watch a film?”

She nodded. Harry picked up her plate and let her lead down the hall. He flicked the lights off to the diner as they walked back to his little apartment home. She fit in the room so easily. Quickly, she made her spot on the sofa, Harry sat close beside her. Harry didn’t pay any mind to the movie he picked. In a matter of minutes, she was drowsy. The movie was nearly irrelevant because she was nearly asleep half a dozen times throughout the movie.

“Did y’fall asleep?” There was a smile in his voice when he asked the first time.

“No,” she mumbled.

“Peach... y’fall asleep?” She muttered a quiet no, again. She could still hear the movie. But the third time, she was simply too tired, physically and emotionally to respond. “Kitten, are y’awake?” She couldn’t speak to even register he called her something new. She was too tired. She simply continued listening to the movie playing and Harry asking her if she was asleep.

“My mum died out of nowhere,” he told her. It felt like someone punched her in the stomach. “It broke me. Broke me t’pieces,” his voice was nostalgic. “I was twenty almost twenty-one. She didn’t even see me graduate.” She should have told him she was awake. He didn’t want him to spill his secrets to her if she was awake. That much was clear in the way he asked the last two times. “Gemma had been stuck here t’see the aftermath of everything. I needed t’finish school even though I didn’t want to. She tried so hard t’keep this place afloat, but she didn’t like cooking, and she didn’t know how t’run a business. I didn’t want t’come home. It broke me all over again. Because I was already weary. Didn’t want t’relive the hometown heartbreak I suffered. This girl I dated from town. She wanted nothing t’do with this place, but I loved this town so much, Peach. I loved it like you do. So maybe s’on me. Because she said she wasn’t going t’stay and it broke m’heart. It broke m’entire plan t’stay here. I hated it here. I hated that it wasn’t enough for her. For us.”

This wasn’t right. Listening to him when he was sharing something personal that he clearly didn’t want to tell...but she was in too deep now. “M’plan turned t’helping Mum find people t’run the diner for her and then move away. Find m’own footing. That had been the plan since I started college. And then Mum...” he sighed and paused. She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating. “I graduated. I cried. I drank.”

Her heart hurt. “I thought maybe I’ll jus’ burn the place down. If Mum’s not here, what’s the point?” His voice was so quiet. “Gemma was heartbroken. She was there when it happened, and she couldn’t stay. Didn’t want t’stay and how could I let her? She was holding everything together. She’s a superhero m’sister,” he whispered so quietly. “She didn’t know what t’do. But she knew she wasn’t any help. She told me it was okay t’sell it. T’move away. T’escape the heartache.”

She tried to think of this little town without the diner. Without Harry. It would be missing something. She was sure. But staying here, the ghost of a girl who was clearly just not good enough for his sweet heart and the ghost of his mother and the family that had to leave because it was too much, she understood. Of course he wanted to leave. How could anyone blame him? “I had a realtor. I had a buyer. A lawyer. I had it all. It was only days away from turning into something and I jus’ had this horrible breakdown before I opened,” he reminisced, his voice was far away. She heard him swallow audibly. His voice cracked. “I was sobbing on the floor over a dozen broken eggs.” The sound of the movie was gone. She couldn’t hear anything but Harry and his soft breathing. Her stomach hurt at the thought of his distress and wanted to make it go away retroactively. If only she had a time machine. If only she could have known him and done something. If only his mom was still there. “I begged Mum for a sign. I wanted her approval. Afraid I wasn’t doing the right thing. Afraid she would hate me for running.”

Of course she wouldn’t have. Harry was... Harry. No one could hate him. Especially not his mother. “I think everyone kinda knew it was coming. Even though I didn’t tell them. I was going t’tell them that day, actually. That I was selling and moving and... the diner would be no more. End of a chapter. End of a life. End of a story.”

She could hardly take how sad it all was. No wonder he was grumpy. She couldn’t figure out why he was telling her. She inhaled a little deeper, ready to tell him she was actually awake and that of course his mother wouldn’t hate him. Never. Not even from wherever her soul was out in—

“But then this insanely intelligent, beautiful girl sat at m’counter. Asked for one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake. Told me the ratios didn’t matter. That she would like t’open a tab.”

She swore her heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything stopped.

“Y’can’t have a tab if there was no diner,” he said simply, a shrug in his voice.

Like it was that simple. That in asking for a tab erased all that heartache. How different her life in this little place would have been without Harry through the years. She couldn’t imagine it. Her best friend just not there. Who would dress as Santa? Or help her rake leaves in the fall? How would she set off the fireworks?

“I didn’t think I would ever be happy again and y’jus’...” there was a quiet pause that seemed to last for hours. Harry’s voice sounded wistful. Like he was remembering every moment since she moved. “Y’were opening a bookshop and y’moved into a house with bad pipes. I didn’t want you t’be stuck in the dead of winter with no hot water,” he continued. “Y’jus’ wanted pancakes and cold coffee, and I didn’t want t’be the one t’stop y’from getting whatever you wanted. Peach, y’love this town like y’grew up here. Y’take care of everyone and everything. Y’are endlessly kind and wonderful and the most annoying person I’ve ever known. Y’love the moon when all anyone can talk about is how nice and warm the sun is. You are everything I wanted and all y’did was waltz into m’diner on one of the worst days of m’life.”

There was no way Harry couldn’t hear her heartrate flying. It felt like a hundred dragonflies were trapped in her ribcage begging to get out. “M’nearly certain I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you. The moment I met you and made you your ridiculous pancakes and all those omelets. M’never going t’stop loving you. No matter how many stupid men you date that don’t know that you’re the best thing that’s ever graced this town, this world, and especially my life.”

The sound of the movie seemed to come back as Harry stopped speaking for a bit of time. The movie filled the silence instead of his words and she felt like she might need to cry again. For several moments she kept quiet, trying to calm her heart. When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she reached up to rub her eye with an exaggerated yawn. “Fell asleep again,” she sniffed turning to Harry. He was smiling at her with a little nod in the way he always did. A smile that didn’t spread across his face, but it was in his eyes.

“I know,” he whispered very softly.

“Sorry. Can we watch the movie another day?” He nodded again, still gazing at her. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Should be asking you that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m okay.”

“Y’sure?” He asked. “I... I wanted t’kill him. T’be honest.”

She shook her head. “He’s not worth it.”

“No? Thought y’wanted to marry him.”

“He...” she sighed. “He doesn’t like the smalltown life after all,” she shrugged then looked at Harry with a smile. “He doesn’t care about the moon.”

He grinned ever so gently at her. Not quite those secret smiles that he hid from everyone, but it was more than his signature twitch of the lips. “Yeah?”

“I can’t be with someone that doesn’t care about the moon.”

He felt his cheeks warm and was glad the room was dark aside from the glow of the TV. “I never really thought ‘bout the moon until y’rolled into town.”

“No?”

“M’more of a sunrise guy with the diner.”

She smiled. “I like the sun too.”

“The moon is better. Y’can stare at it without hurting y’eyes.”

She giggled. “That’s true.”

“I think ‘bout y’every time I see the moon,” he murmured.

She was closer to him than she ever had been even when he held her the night before and kissed the top of her head. She could feel his breath on her face, and she loved his eyes so much. They were so pretty. “What about when the moon is gone?”

“I think ‘bout the moon in the middle of the day, as soon as I wake up, and as the sun sets.”

She doesn’t know why it was then. Why she didn’t know...how she didn’t know. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. The way he looked at her. The way he always looked at her. Harry was her best friend, and she never thought he loved her beyond that. She thought he only barely tolerated her as a friend. But the look on his face...

“Oh,” she managed. Breathless, her heart pounded. Harry didn’t date. Harry didn’t... love... right? Harry didn’t really love her, did he?

But he did. He told her (albeit, what he thought was her sleeping body). So, she wasn’t supposed to know that. Not really. Maybe he was just saying it because he felt bad for her and how upset she was. But he shook his head and smiled—really, really smiled.

“Peach, y’have m’whole heart,” he shrugged one shoulder as if this wasn’t the biggest deal in the entire world. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said simply. “M’not going anywhere.”

She woke up and it was still pitch-black out. With a glance at the clock on her bedside table she found it was only four thirty and she was so awake. Even Harry wouldn’t be awake yet. She didn’t feel sad about Alex. Why was she crying about him yesterday anyway? He wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t someone who anticipated things she needed done and offered to do them before she knew it. Harry thought about her like she was an extension of him, which is exactly how she thought about him. He showed up when she least expected it but he was there.

Her fingers skimmed the moon charm on her necklace. Something she couldn’t stop wearing if her life depended on it. The thought of losing it made her nauseous. It was so comforting to have a piece of Harry with her all the time. How could she think she could marry someone that wasn't him?

Was it too soon? Maybe. But it was a long time coming. Had been for so many years. Harry was hers. Maybe whether he wanted to be or not. Because she loved him from the moment that she met him, and she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect person than him.

Hard pass. You need a nice bubbly guy like you.

Harry wasn’t bubbly. But he was nice, and he was more than perfect.

Suddenly, she was out the door running. Running through the quiet, sleeping town. Did she close her door? Maybe Edith or David would do it for her. She barely stopped when she got to the front of the diner. Harry wasn’t down yet—of course he wasn’t, it wasn’t even five—so she knocked on the door rapidly; peering through the glass waiting for the most perfect man she knew to appear. She could have used the key, but this was important, and Harry needed to open the door.

After what seemed like eternity, Harry came from the back: hurried, no shoes, and still in his sweatpants.

“Peach, what are y’doing? I hate when y’come here this early when s’dark out. On foot. What if someone snuck up and kidnapped you?”

“Oh my God, Harry. Shut up about being kidnapped. Everyone in town knows me.”

He snorted. “S’not good t’run in the near dark—Fine, whatever. Peach, what’s wro—”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. For so many years she dreamed of his lips. How soft they would feel, how nice they would feel. It felt electric. He tasted like toothpaste and summer. His skin was warm, and he loved her.

Harry reached down and cupped the back of her thighs, pulling her legs around his hips. She looped her arms around his neck, clinging to him wishing she could get closer somehow. He closed the door to the diner and fiddled with the signs. Opening late. She imagined the sign was being placed in front of the closed sign. Harry kept one arm beneath her butt, supporting her against him as he walked across the diner and placed her on the same stool she sat on each morning.

He brought his hands to her face, sliding his fingers through her hair, his thumbs skimming across her cheeks as he kissed her again. Her mouth was so warm.

“I could hear you talking last night,” she whispered against his skin as his lips moved to her jaw. "During the movie." She had to tell him the truth about some things. Many things. Some things she hadn’t thought about in ages. Some were still fresh. If this was going to work, she needed Harry to know everything.

“I know y’could, Peach,” he hummed quietly and moved across her collarbone, pausing to kiss the moon charm around the chain. His lips started their ascent up the other side of her throat. Her skin felt hot, tingly from head to toe. "Wanted you t'hear."

Her heart ached a little less. “Is this too soon?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Feels like s’been too long,” his kisses worked up the side of her face, skimming every inch of her like he was going to draw her face with kisses on a canvas and he was measuring what that would look like with an outline.

“Harry,” she whispered, shivering slightly. He didn’t respond as his lips were at the top of her head, kissing her hair line. “I’ve... I’ve known your mom passed away... since I moved in. Alice told me the first week I was here.”

Harry paused his kisses. He drew back to look her in the eye. There was a pucker of confusion between his eyebrows, and he looked at her like he had never seen her before. “Y’never said anything,” it wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t mad. It wasn’t sad. A statement. That’s all he said.

“You clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

His heart swelled. “Y’never... treated me differently.”

“I never asked about your mom, Harry. You didn’t notice?”

Well, now it seemed so obvious. “No,” he mumbled.

She smiled weakly. “You weren’t ready to tell me.”

“Y’didn’t look at me with pity.”

She shrugged. “You did that in spades.”

He smirked and rubbed his thumb on her lip before he took it between his again. “S’much as I want t’make more memories on this seat, s’going t’get light soon,” he pecked her lips and scooped her back up. There would be someone walking their dog and they would peer in and see something they shouldn’t. “But ‘ve wanted t’kiss y’in this seat for ages,” he assured her. He gripped behind her thighs again rewrapping them around his hips and lifting her into his arms again. He kissed her the entire way down the hall to his little home behind the diner that made his heart hurt for so many years. Now it was filled with peaches. So many sweet memories to take away the hurt.

“Harry,” she whimpered as he nipped at her skin.

“Y’taste so sweet, Peach,” he mumbled into her mouth. She shivered, making Harry squeeze her tighter. Then she smiled against his lips. Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair. She ground her hips against him in a needy fashion that she never imagined she’d ever get to do to him. He groaned softly into her neck kissing a path across her collarbone again. “Easy Peach,” he hummed. “M’pretty... starved for attention.”

She huffed a breath of laughter. “You can have all my attention,” she promised. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry Styles,” she pulled his face back so she could read his eyes. “Ever. I’m going to die on that stool in your diner eating peach and white chocolate chip pancakes when I’m a hundred years old.”

He smiled. That genuine, gorgeous smile that she loved so much but he kept so hidden. “Perfect,” he whispered and captured her lips in his again.

“I’m glad it was a new moon,” she whispered.

“Me too, Peach,” he laid her gently on his bed, stripped his T-shirt over his head. “I needed a new beginning.”

“Hey Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?” He pulled his sweatpants off next. Leaning to get them off his legs which left him in the perfect position to kiss the length of her leg, starting with her ankle and working his way up to her hip.

“I love you too. In case it wasn’t obvious at this point.”

He stopped, looked up at her, peering into her eyes like he was going to gaze at her for eternity. “Peach,” he said simply. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #grumpy!harry x sunshine!reader #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love at first sight!harry #the lottery

245 notes · View notes

fgumi · 16 hours ago

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

#enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: writes #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: headcanons

270 notes · View notes

skteezcursed · 3 days ago

Text

❝little bears and tiny stars❞ — c.jh (event).

PAIRING. choi jongho x afab!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers. kinda second chance. soulmate au. the boys playing cupid. alcohol consumption. the sfw parts are partially self indulgent. swearing. lots of mutual pining. idiots in love. jongho is an idiot (in the best of senses). mature talk (?). fluff. a bit of angst. soft sex. body worshiping. cunnilingus. unprotected sex (please don't!). pull out method. fingering. jongho is the sweetest (even too much). pet names (star for reader, bear for jongho). praises. pleasure dom! jongho. sub! reader. lots and lots of kisses. not proof read. (let me know if i forgot something).

SYNOPSIS. you were a sensitive topic, everyone knew. so when san brings your name to the table after years you and jongho drew apart, he knew something was up, he just didn't know how deep he'd dig himself once he spent time with you again. but then again, neither did you. maybe a second chance isn't just for a friendship like relationship.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. 16k (sorry).

NOTES. english is not my first language. this is for the secret santa event for @cromernet and this is specially for my sweet dear friend @yourlocaljonghoe , surprise! another jongho fic just how you like it made for me to you (sorry it's a bit longer than expected). idk if you suspected when we talked, i hope no hehe but i do hope you like it, i love you and i'm sorry for the delay, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

“Yah! Choi San, c’mon it’s the time for the Choi Brothers’ song to make us all cry and start this damn karaoke night!” Wooyoung said loudly as soon as San entered the booth with a puzzled look and smile on his lips. “Why you like that?”

“San-ah, c’mon I already selected IU’s ‘Dear Name’, what are you—” Yunho stops watching San with the same curious look that Wooyoung was giving him. “What happened?”

“Jongho-ah!” San calls for his little brother who quickly turns to look at him puzzled, making San smirk a little. “What’s that friend of yours name? The one you were basically joined to the hip until like middle school when they switched schools and you two lost contact?”

Jongho froze for a moment. “Which friend are you talking about?”

“Oh, they were cute! Where are they now?”

Mingi chimes in trying to see where San was heading, but his eyes were focused on Jongho, the smirk still there noticing how his little brother tried to downplay the whole thing. The others quickly started to notice San had valuable information, and bringing you into the conversation was not without a reason. Seonghwa was quick to join in the teasing.

“Oh I remember them! They were so cute, and how they got all shy when we joined both of them was so adorable,” the boys started to chuckle, some more obvious than others, watching Jongho trying to act as if the subject of you didn’t affect him one bit. “Makes me wonder though, have you truly lost contact with them?”

“Weren’t they like… your ultimate crush but you were too much of a chicken to say something?”

“No, remember, he was set on the fact they had a crush on San, not him.”

Yunho said back to Wooyoung and the guys all laughed at Jongho’s eye roll. “It’s not like that, they—”

“So you finally admit they liked you and you were too much of a chicken?”

Hongjoong chimed in, Yeosang followed after him.

“Are you going to deny you had a crush on them or are you still in denial that they had a crush on you?”

“You people are the worst,” he said, shaking his head before looking back at San, considerably annoyed. “Why are you even bringing them up? It’s been ages and —”

“I think they are here and that they recognized me while I was paying for our time in the karaoke,” San said simply with a small smirk. “I think it doesn’t take a genius to know they’d probably recognize you. I mean… if you still want to be friends with them, of course…”

“They won’t remember me,” Jongho’s words were quick, stern but the boys knew the youngest well enough to know there was a hint of hope in his words. “And how are you sure they remember you? Just because (y/n) had a crush on you—”

“(y/n)!” The boys all celebrated as Jongho said your name before San turned back to Jongho with a knowing smile. “Also, just because you think they had a crush on me, doesn’t mean they did… but let’s play your game, shall we?” The boys chuckled as Jongho kept rolling his eyes as San observed his younger brother. “If, like you said, they remember me because you assume I was their crush… why wouldn’t they remember you who was their best friend for years? Care to explain that logic?”

The other six all observed the exchange with smirks and curious glances.

“Are we gonna do karaoke or not?”

“Oh, right, I forgot I asked for a few things, do you mind picking it up with me bro? It will make it easier and faster… unless… you are scared to meet with your lovely crush— I mean… friend, (y/n).”

Jongho rolled his eyes once more at San’s comment and the others snickering. He was terrified of seeing you again after all these years. Would you still remember him? Would you say hello to him? Would you hug him? Would you ignore him? Would you act like you acted with San and kinda show you know each other even if from a distance? Would you—

“He’s a chicken, he won’t do it.”

“Shut up, Mingi. Let’s go and end this, hm?” He headed to the door opening up and looking back at San with the door open who still had a smirk and raised eyebrows. The boys knew how to push Jongho’s buttons, but when it involved you, San was the expert at it. “What you asked?”

“A few bottles of soju and some snacks… why?” The older Choi said as both brothers headed to the eating area to get everything. San chuckled as he noticed Jongho looking around curiously while trying to remain unseen. “What are you gonna do when they recognize you?”

“Hm?”

“(y/n)... What are you gonna do when they recognize you?”

Jongho scoffed trying to downplay the situation. “Why are you so sure they’ll recognize me? It’s been years, San, it’s not like—”

“Oh, San, hello again,” how long has it been since he heard your voice? It didn’t matter, because the second he heard your voice, he knew he had ever forgotten, nor had his heart, “Jon–Jongho?”

Jongho felt San elbow his side, as the younger Choi raised his head meeting your gaze. He had to hold his jaw tight so it wouldn’t meet the floor. You were just as gorgeous as you were previously, only… more. Your smile widened as you recognized him, you had recognized him, right? He wasn’t imagining things, you—

“I see you got my suggestion…” San’s words woke Jongho up, he felt a stir in his stomach at his brother’s smile towards you, which you nodded with a shy smile of your own, one Jongho had seen many times when San was around. Did you still have a crush on San? “But that’s too little, where are your friends?”

“Oh, they had to leave, we had already used our paid time, and another group had booked the booth so yeah… and I was still hungry, so I decided to come and pick a few things before I leave and—”

“You are leaving?” Jongho said quickly, almost desperately. You looked at him confused and a bit surprised, while San held back a smile and a laugh at his younger brother’s reaction. “I—I mean, we—”

“Why don’t you come with us to our booth? We wouldn’t mind reconnecting with an old friend, if you have nothing better to do, that is.”

You pondered for a moment looking between San and Jongho who was trying to keep his cool after seeing you after all these years.

“You sure it’s okay if I join in?”

“Yeah, we are still the same group as before, you remember the guys right?” San commented with a small smile, noticing how you noticed Jongho’s nervous behavior. “Look, everyone will be happy to have you around, like the old days when you’d always visit our house and we would all hang out, right?”

It was true, at least in a way. But it had been years now, and Jongho didn’t seem much of a fan of the thought. “Jongho… you okay with that?”

His mind went haywire.

He never thought he’d hear you call his name ever again.

But here you were, looking at him with your worried eyes and all the feelings he thought he had long forgotten had returned full force.

“Wh-why would you think I’m not okay with that?”

San looked between the two of you with an amused smirk, watching what you would answer back. “Maybe because you are dead quiet and not even meeting my eyes?”

San’s chuckle — which he quickly disguised as a cough — woke Jongho up, at least in a way.

“I— Sorry, it’s just… I’m still processing seeing you after all these years. I didn’t mean to come off as rude or anything of sorts, it's just… It’s been a while…”

“I know, I told San the same thing when we met a few minutes back,” you saw Jongho look at San with a death stare making you chuckle a little noticing San planned this out. “I see… well, if the others don’t mind me joining in, I don’t mind it either so—”

“Good, Jongho will show you back to the booth while I take a few of the drinks and snacks and the employee helps me bring the rest.”

The look on Jongho’s eyes was confirmation that San had planned this all out. You didn’t truly believe San when he said they were all there, that he remembered you, or that Jongho was there and would be happy to see you. San was still the same guy as before, making ways for you and Jongho to always be close to each other, and you were positive that San realized you still harbored feelings for his younger brother from the small look he send your way as Jongho lead you back to the booth that the other six were too.

As soon as you entered, the booth exploded with voices, each of the boys coming to you and hugging you. Jongho was quick to take your food and drink away so you could hug the other six guys as he took a seat in the corner observing everything while trying to calm his racing heart. You were even more beautiful than before, how was that even possible?

Your childhood features were almost gone, but you still held that same aura you always had. Kind, loving, sweet. Your smile was still the same, your eyes squinting as you laughed at something the boys had said, the way you hugged each and everyone, the way you looked at everyone as if they were the only people in the room, but it was when your eyes met his and you gave him his smile, the smiled that was reserved only to him, was when he realized he was fucked. Royally fucked.

He had never gotten over you.

He had never forgotten you.

And here you were again, making his heart race at your mere presence.

As soon as the door opened and San entered with one of the employees, your shy demeanor came back and Jongho’s heart almost broke. It was the same reaction you always had around San. Did your crush on his older brother remain? You acted normal with the others, and yet with San… You acted all shy and cute…

Jongho knew San always got the most attention, the most girls, the best grades, he was just that good. But you always saw Jongho, he was never in San’s shadow… Until middle school, when you started to change around San, when his brother started to give you more attention. Of course he would, you had changed, you were getting prettier, you were catching people’s attention, of course his brother would see you.

He was never afraid of losing you to San, not until that time.

It didn’t matter if San or the others said you didn’t see any of them like that.

Jongho knew you thought they were handsome, he heard you deny other girls trying to get to San through you, why would you deny that if you weren’t interested in his brother?

“You still have the same face and ticks when you are thinking you know?” Your voice brought Jongho back to the reality of the situation. They weren’t in middle school anymore, they were all in university, in a karaoke booth celebrating the end of midterms. His eyes met your soft smile as you took a seat beside him. “I told San not to do any of this, but… You know your brother he—”

“Will do whatever he wants—”

“Thinks it’s right,” you cut Jongho after he cutted you. You knew the Choi brothers had a good relationship, but you also knew Jongho hated being in San's shadow and hated how San was good at everything on a first try, how he could get away with pretty much everything. “Guess he’s not right about everything, then…”

The way your voice broke was the same sound of Jongho’s heart breaking. As you started to get up, he held your wrist, firmly but gently. “Sorry, I just… It’s been so long and… I hate how he—”

“Cornered you, I know,” you chuckle softly sitting back beside Jongho, smiling even more as you finally see a smile from him towards you. “I told him not to do it, but he also said you wouldn’t come out and talk to me on your own, but that you’d be happy to see me… So far only one of the things is not adding up…”

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, it’s just…”

“It’s been too long, yes. And we both changed and maybe we did end things a bit rushed and lost contact when I had to move to live with my father after my parents divorced, but now I’m here, I’m back in the same city as you, a lot changed, I changed, you changed… but… when I realized we were in the same city, that you two were here and going to same university I was… I kinda wished to reconnect with you again. You were my best friend, bear.”

“Hey, don’t do that! That’s a low blow and you know it!” He chuckled as you shrugged with a smirk on your lips, making his heart melt a little. You were right, everything was different and maybe he was looking too much into things, maybe his inner child was stopping him from doing everything, scared of losing you again in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, okay? Can we start again?”

“Can you get up and give me a hug?”

Without a second thought he got up from his seat, you followed quickly behind and hugged him by the neck while his arms went around your waist pulling you flushed against him as he hid his face on the crook of your neck. God he missed this. It was like his heart was mending in a way he never thought it had been broken, just by being like this with you.

“I missed you, my little star.”

He whispered back into your ear, making you smile and kiss his temple tenderly, “I missed you, my baby bear.”

The other seven were ‘secretly’ observing everything, while opening the snacks and drinks. San had a knowing smile on his lips as he observed your and Jongho’s interaction. He knew you two liked each other, he had found out you liked his little brother while surprising you one day, catching you writing yours and Jongho’s initials on a piece of paper, he was the only one that knew your secret. While with Jongho, he caught a song lyric his baby brother had written that had the nickname he used only with you, your name written down in a corner with a small heart and a date.

San had always tried to make you two end up together, he knew you two belong together. Like two peas in a pod. He just had to make sure the two of you realized that.

“Why are girls so hard to figure out?” San whined as he, Jongho and Yeosang were walking in the music building.

“Are you saying that… you are having girl problems?” Yeosang laughed as he saw San roll his eyes, Jongho chimed in shaking his head. “What? She’s not giving you the attention you want?”

“She’s not fawning over you as if you were a Greek God like most girls?”

“Shut up you two!” Both boys were pushed by San, but he kept a small smile on his lips. As his eyes focused on Jongho once more, an idea formed in his mind. All the boys knew that you and Jongho had gotten considerably close, almost as close as you were when you two were younger, but there was still a barrier, that they were certain it was mostly on Jongho’s side. “You should help your brother, why don’t you ask (y/n) about it? How to catch a girl’s attention? I tried everything… I sent flowers, I sent her chocolate, I got a few things I heard she liked, and she keeps dismissing me and just thanking me and not properly talking to me…”

“Why you think (y/n) will know? Are they friends or something?”

“It would definitely help if they are… maybe you can even go on double dates,” Yeosang laughed as San looked amused by the idea while Jongho seemed to dread it. “That’s something I’d pay to see, it would be fun.”

“Say for yourself…”

“Yah! You should help your brother, not make my life difficult…”

“Because you help make my life easier?”

San nodded as if offended that Jongho would think like that. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past few weeks?” Yeosang kept quiet observing, he and the others promised San not to tell Jongho he was secretly trying to get his baby brother and you to see you belong together, and yet apparently nothing was working, specially on Jongho’s end. He would always make excuses. “You know… You should put yourself out there, I’m getting tired of your grumpy ass, I thought once you get close with (y/n) once more you’d be more yourself… Why you holding back so much?”

“San is right you know?” Yeosang chimed in as both saw Jongho rolling his eyes ready to protest San’s statement. “You two were best friends, but you barely talk to her, only when you two bump with each other, you make excuses not to see them, but when you two are together you are the happiest… What’s up with that?”

“I’m not avoiding them…”

“Keep lying to yourself,” San said, a bit annoyed that Jongho kept denying. “Crap, I have to go, promised Yunho I’d go by the choreography with him, see you guys later and Jongho… Get it together man, you missed them a lot, you finally have them back, don’t push them away from being a dick.”

“Yah! I’m not—” he didn’t have time to protest as San ran towards the dancing building, “not being a dick…”

“Yeah you are…,” Yeosang said plain and simple, making Jongho curse and look at the older friend annoyed. “Are you scared you’ll fall for them all over again?”

“...Maybe,” begrudgingly Jongho admitted, looking down to his feet as the two of them kept walking. Yeosang was his closest friend from the friend group, he could trust him, right? “They are just… It’s like nothing changed but so much has changed! And they got even prettier, it’s like torture to my heart whenever I’m with them. And then you and the others chime in and they become this shy thing that’s so adorable but also… Why are they becoming shy? You really want me to believe they don’t have a crush on any of you?”

“They don’t.” Yeosang said firmly, with such certainty that made Jongho stop and look at him a bit taken aback. “They don’t like us like that. They like us as friends, they get shy because we are not that close, because they don’t want to intrude, because they say we are your friends.”

“But with San—”

“San is a tease,” once again Yeosang cut Jongho, “he is a tease and he know how to push (y/n)’s buttons, but he just wants them to get comfortable, and for the two of you to stop being so stiffen with each other… He’s the one that knows them best after you, but they don’t like San, they never did. It doesn’t matter what you think or want to believe, they don’t like San, they never did…”

“So why do they always cut girls that come to them to get with San?”

“Wouldn’t you stop people wanting to get friendly with you to get with a friend?” Jongho thought for a second. “(y/n) is a shy and private person, they always were, they have few and close friends, and they know how San and you get annoyed by all the girls trying to get his attention, they value yours and his friendship more than anything… I know that because I saw them doing it and asked about it a few days back.”

“Okay, but—” Jongho is stopped by a ping on his phone, which he quickly picks up with a text from you. “They… texted me…”

“What do they want?”

you: hey, jjong! you on campus? if yes, which building?

jjong 🐻: yeah, i’m on campus. music building, why?

you: oh, you in class? sorry, forget it!

jjong 🐻: no no no! you good! jjong 🐻: what do you need? i’m not in class.

you: it’s nothing important, i just forgot my water bottle in class. you: i can go search for it after i’m done at the library, i don’t wanna bother you.

“Go get their water bottle.”

“What? Why–”

“Jongho, they texted you to get a water bottle… that means they want you to get that bottle and bring it to them. Get. The. Water. Bottle.” Yeosang said quickly. “Stop overthinking, be you around them. They keep apologizing for disturbing you because you are avoiding them whenever you can. They are your best friend, get it together!”

“It’s not that simple, Yeo—”

“Because you still like them.” Jongho kept quiet, not denying it, but not confirming. “Do you want to lose them again?”

“The fuck? Of course not! I just got them back!”

“Then start acting like you actually want to be around them, because as of now you are losing them all over again, and this time will be totally your fault. Tell them you’ll get the water bottle and will bring it to the library, and start acting like their best friend. Things changed, yes, but they haven’t! Me and the guys have seen you two together, it’s like a damn time travel tunnel. So stop overthinking or you’ll lose them.”

Yeosang kept looking sternly to Jongho who sighed knowing his best friend was right.

“Sometimes I hate you.”

“Only when you know I’m right.”

Both laughed as Jongho typed back to you:

jjong 🐻: which room is it? is it that galaxy water bottle you’ve been obsessed with?

you: hey! don’t call me out for being obsessed about something! you: … but yes, it’s that one. you: class is 157 in block C of the Lit building, thank you, bear! 🤎

jjong 🐻: be there in a bit. jjong 🐻: you at the library right? the one in the Lit building?

you: yeah, you’ll see me at the tables, i have this paper due to the end of the week.

jjong 🐻: got it, don’t worry, i’ll get your bottle. see you in a bit star 💛

A small smile formed on your lips as Jongho said he’d pick the water bottle and bring it back to you at the library, your heart racing momentarily at the thought of seeing him once more. The knowing smile on San’s lips and the other boys whenever you and Jongho were together kept popping in your mind, were you being obvious? San was the only one that knew about your crush, but now apparently all the other six knew it too… except Jongho. You didn’t know if you were grateful for it or not.

In all honesty, you thought he did considering how weird he’d act on occasion with you, even if he agreed to reconnect and being friends again, sometimes you thought he was avoiding you, so when he agreed to pick your water bottle you were more than happy, that meant he wasn’t fully avoiding you, right? The phone was put face down at the table as you shook your head trying to focus on the things you needed for your paper — that was pretty much done, luckily.

“Hey, star,” Jongho’s voice woke you up after a while, your water bottle on his hands as a small smile appeared on his lips as he placed the bottle at the table. “Guess this belongs to you.”

"Oh, hey Jjong," You smiled softly at him, your eyes falling on your water bottle before going back to his face as you tried to keep your heart rate balanced. "Thank you for picking the bottle, I'm sorry if I troubled you, and I do owe you, you saved my day tomorrow from having to stay on the Lost & Found hoping to find it"

Jongho’s heart fluttered as he saw your smile. You were so effortlessly beautiful it was painful. Warmth spread across his chest as you thanked him, apologizing for disturbing him, making him realize Yeosang was probably right… He was being an ass and you were probably weary around him. He decided to push his worries away and act like himself around you regardless. He preferred having you smiling at him, close to him, allowing him to smell your perfume, to touch your skin, even if platonically then to lose you again.

He never wanted to lose you.

Never again.

“No need to apologize, it was no trouble at all. I was in the Music building for a project, and the building is not that far away from the Lit one, and I could use a bit of cardio you know?” Both chuckled and he felt his chest flutter at the sound of your sweet laugh. He looked around noticing you were alone at the table as you stretched your hand to get the bottle. He pointed down to your notes, eyeing both notes and books spread around the table. “Are you… studying alone?”

You nodded, picking your water bottle. “Ah, yeah… My study partner had an emergency call in another project and bolted,” you chuckled softly before looking at your water bottle with a small pout. “Oh… maybe I should fill this up, forgot it’s pretty much empty…”

Jongho chuckled at your words glancing down at the water bottle, his gaze softening as he noticed your pout as he extended his hand grabbing the bottle back. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill it up for you.”

“You sure you don’t mind? You already had the trouble to bring it to me here… I don’t want to abuse your good will or anything,” you said genuinely worried although there was a hint of joke in your words.

His heart skipped a bit, amused by your concern. You have always been sweet and considerate, worried about what everyone thought, wanting everyone to be comfortable, even if at your expense, which was something he noticed that never changed even after all these years. He waved his hand dismissively, shaking his head and grabbing the bottle back. “It’s not abuse, I don’t mind doing it at all. I’ll be right back.”

Jongho got to the water fountain quickly, filling the water bottle and watching the water fill it in a smooth stream. As he waited for it to fill, his mind was buzzing with thoughts. He was alone with you. You were studying alone, and he had an almost perfect opportunity to spend some more time with you. He had an almost perfect opportunity to just talk and spend time with you, like he’d been missing for such a long time. Finally, the water bottle filled, and he began to head back over to you, a little nervous but eager nonetheless.

Soon, he made it back to the table, bottle in hand, and sat down in the empty chair beside you, setting the refilled water bottle in front of you. “There you go, all refilled and good to go,” he said with a smile, hoping that you wouldn’t mind how he sat in the empty seat. A soft smile on his lips as he watched you, his eyes lingering on your lips for a moment.

"Thanks Jjong, guess you still are the gentleman I knew you were," you jokingly teased him, taking a sip of the water before reorganizing a few things to give him more space to stay there.

A small chuckle left his lips at your words, finding it slightly endearing that you’d joked with him. He smiled as you moved a few things around so that he had more room. It was almost like an invitation for him to stay longer, and he was certainly not going to turn it down. His smile grew wider at the thought that maybe you wanted him to stick around as much as he did. You were never to voice your wishes, it was always subtle, like moving your things to make space for someone.

A small streak of confidence hit him, pushing a bit of the overthinking away. His back hitting the back rest of the chair as he kept observing you going over the texts and notes. “So… what are you studying? Can I stay here and make you company or will I distract you?”

Distract, for sure, you said in your mind, as you turned smiling softly at Jongho, deciding to play it off. “Why? You planning on distracting me?”

Jongho felt a bit shy, but laughed it off shaking his head a little. “Okay, fair… But why you studying here? You liked studying in your room…”

“True, but… I’m living in the dorms, and it’s always so loud there, you know me and noises don’t go well together, so here is the second best place,” you shrugged looking back at the books’ spine to pick the information you needed to put on the bibliography of your paper.

A small nod was given by Jongho, he knew you were easily distracted and annoyed by constant noises, he could barely hold a small nostalgic smile as his mind reminded him of all the times you two studied together during school. You were so distracted by your assignment that you barely noticed him leaning his chin on his hand as he observed you. Barely, being the key word, as you turned your head to the side trying to hide your tinted pink cheeks from his intense gaze.

A small thought reaching Jongho’s mind at that memory, making him lazily pick a pen and twist it on his fingers, trying to act casual. “Don’t you get lonely studying alone? I remember you always liked to study together… Maybe we can pick up on that once more… If you want, of course.”

Your head tilted back to look at Jongho with a small smirk. “Are you offering to have your place as my study partner back, Choi Jongho?”

A light blush crept on Jongho’s face as you looked back at him with a small smirk. He chuckled lightly, heart racing as he kept the pen twirling on his fingers, even if it faltered a little, falling back at the table making him sheepishly scratch the back of his head and pretended it wasn’t him, when a lot of people looked over to see from where the sound came from. A muffled chuckle coming out from you, making him even more shy as he pondered how to best answer you.

“I mean… If you want me, I’d be happy to keep you company… you know… like we used to do in school…”

“And where would that happen? I’ve never seen you in the library before…”

He tilted his head a little. “That’s because I prefer my room, or the music room, for acoustics and all, you know.”

“Are you staying in a dorm too, or are you sharing a house with San and the others?”

“Oh, no, we are all at the dorms, it’s easier, a house would be too expensive…” he scratched the back of his head once more pondering a question. “So… which dorm are you in?”

“Halazia dorm, you?”

His eyes widened, you were in the Halazia dorm? “Same, I-I mean… Halazia dorm,” he chuckled as your eyes also widened along with your mouth opening, surprised. “Ah… which floor are you on?”

“Seventh, you?”

“Which room?”

“1027…”

“1035,” he said quickly, smiling at you, realizing not only you two were in the same dorm, the same floor, but your doors were across each other. “Yeosang, San and Mingi are on this floor as well… If you ever hear any of the parties, it is definitely Mingi’s room, likely.”

You laughed at the thought, feeling nervous that you were living across from each other but never actually seen each other after all the time you’ve been in uni. “Well… that explains the amount of ‘walks of shame’ I see on that floor on a daily basis. Should I expect someone doing the ‘walk of shame’ from your bedroom too?”

“Why? Will you patronize me if it ever happens?”

You pretended to ponder for a bit, trying to hide the small pang on your chest at his words. Jongho was single, good looking, smart, with the voice of an angel, polite, respectful, a gentleman… Of course he’d have girls after him and bring some to his room, you couldn’t be mad at him for it. Even if your heart broke at the thought and image in your mind. “Why would I? You are an adult, single, good looking, you can have sex with whoever you want…”

“I mean… true, but I thought… I don’t know…” He turned sheepish as a thought came to his mind. “Should I wait for someone doing the ‘walk of shame’ out of your room?”

Your eyes widened a little, blush creeping on your cheeks as you avoided Jongho’s stare.

“I… don’t really mess around, I prefer a serious thing over one night stand, so… not on my end.”

“Good,” he said before he could hold back, making you blush even more, a small smile appearing on his lips as he noticed the reaction he had on you. “I mean… Good because you know what you want, you know? And… I’m like that too, one night stands aren’t really my thing, I prefer a connection, someone I can be comfortable with, that will see me for me and stick around, you know?”

Your eyes met his, a secret shared between both stares but apparently the message could never reach each other. Even if both could see the care and longing in the other's eyes, the main sentiment was lost in the middle. Your stomach bursted with butterflies from the way Jongho was looking at you, while his confidence grew a little as he saw his words affected you. Maybe, just maybe… you saw him as more? Should he take a leap of faith?

“I–I should put these books back, it’s getting late…,” you said, picking your phone to check the time, seeing it was already early at night. Ignoring Jongho’s eyes while trying to calm your heart rate, you got up fixing the books.

Jongho noticed your reaction, biting his lip for a moment, disappointed for losing the eye contact he had with you. As he watched you rushly pick up the books, an idea popped in his head, making him quickly stand up beside you, stepping closer, his chest almost touching your shoulder.

“Hey let me help you, it will be faster if I help you…,” swiftly, he took the books from the table, taking it in his arms, your hands brushing slightly against each other momentarily making a shiver run down his spine, his body still inches from yours as he glanced down at the books in his arms. “So… where are these supposed to go?”

“So… these are on those three shelves beside each other, c’mon,” you quickly motioned him to follow you, being careful so he wouldn't trip or hit his shoulder on the shelves. In swift motions you quickly placed all the books, leaving only two behind as you picked them and headed to a far end shelf. “These ones are around here…”

Jongho was always close behind you, observing and caring for every edge of the shelf that you could possibly get hurt accidentally. As the last shelf came into place, you quickly tiptoed to place one book on an upper shelf, almost losing your balance. “Here, let me.”

Your skin burned under your shirt as you felt Jongho's hand on your back, before he took the book from your hand to place it at the spot you were trying to put, but his hand never left your body, moving from your back to your waist. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time, you could feel his perfume filling your lungs, you could feel his firm but gentle hand against your skin — even through the clothes.

As he looked back at you, you came back to your reality trying to find the spot for the last book on your hand, as you moved a little to place in a lower shelf, ignoring how the fact of Jongho's hand keep lingering on your body made you feel like you were on fire. “Okay, this is the last one, we should—,” you lost your balance as you turned quickly to head back to the tables, Jongho’s hands quickly going to your waits steadying you, your hand moved to his bicep, squeezing it lightly as you felt his hands squeezing your waist back. You two were close, closer than ever in a long time. “We— ah… We should go back to the dorms, it's getting late."

Cold, that's all you felt as you pushed yourself away from Jongho heading back to the table to get your things. As he saw you moving back to the table, he woke up from his epiphany, close behind you. “Yeah, you’re right it is getting late… we should head back…” He followed you close by, watching as you walked back to the table to gather your things and not forgetting the water bottle this time around, heading to open the door for you to exit the library, as he calmed his racing heart.

“Jongho being a gentleman? What happened? Did the talk do something to you?” You joked walking past him with a light chuckle, watching as he closed the door, walking beside you bumping you with his shoulder with a smirk on his lips.

“Hey, I’m always a gentleman with you! Always been and always will be.”

“True… Your father always made sure you and San were raised to be gentlemen… Guess all the scolding paid off, since you two have girls fawning over the both of you all over university,” you tried your best to act nonchalant as you two kept walking, your eyes focused on the ground as a memory popped up in your mind, making you smile. “Remember what your father used to say: men are supposed to be warriors for the women who are their princesses." You smiled fondly. "Your house was the only place I felt like a princess, and beside you as well when we were younger…"

At your words, memories quickly flooded his own mind, of you being in his house, always pampered and protected by his parents, and even San when it was just the three of you playing in the house. His eyes darted to you with fondness as you remembered the times you went to his house, the soft smile on your lips, the nostalgic look in your eyes. He wanted to hug you so badly right now, he wished he had cherished that first hug you two have after seeing each other. His head hangs low with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I remember dad saying that a lot… and I guess it kinda stuck with me, especially the princess part,” he admitted, taking a few steps closer to you before speaking once more. “You were always a princess in my eyes though… and I still think you are… forever my little princess, my little star.” For a moment your mind went blank. Did he really just tell you that? In that tone? Did he not have an idea of how much that affected you? Of course he didn't, you never told him and you threatened San if he ever told Jongho you liked him. A small smirk appeared on Jongho’s lips as he saw your bashful expression. His voice dropped an octave as he leaned closer to you, in a slight teasing way. “You know, you may not believe me when I say you are my forever princess, but I can tell you are getting flustered…”

“Shut up,” you pushed him away from you, but barely had an effect, but Jongho amused you still, going a bit away from you. “It’s not that I don't believe you, I'm just not used to compliments, you know that.”

“Okay, right, sorry,” he apologized quickly, deciding to take a risk and take your hand in his, halting your movements, making you eye him curiously. A simple smile was all he gave you before getting closer to you. Both doing their best to ignore the tension between you two, the electric charge that ran through your bodies, how right it felt to have your hands intertwined again. “Can I have a hug?”

Your gaze softened as your heart tightened in your chest. If you thought too much you knew you'd find thousands of reasons not to do it. But it was your Jongho, your Jjong, your baby bear… And you couldn't say no to him, not when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world. Without much thought you hugged him close, your arms around his shoulders, your lips on his shoulder as you cherished the feeling of Jongho's body against yours.

On the other hand, Jongho took a while to react, not really expecting you to hug him, but as soon as you pressed him against you, it was like muscle memory… His body relaxing in your embrace, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him as he buried his face against the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. Your shampoo was different, the perfume was too, but your real scent was still there, faintly mixed with the others, but his mind captured quickly.

“I forgot how good your hugs feel…”

“They are still yours to have,” you spoke softly against his shoulder, almost like a secret, feeling his arms tightening around your waist.

“I missed having them… I missed having you.” Jongho held you even tighter, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of your body against his, of having you in his arms after all these years, it was like time stopped for a moment, as if nothing had changed, all those years didn't pass by. If he tried really hard, he could probably hear your heart beat. “Have I… have I changed too much?”

“In what sense?” You pondered quietly while still hugging him. “Everyone changes Jjong, it is part of maturing… but if you are asking if I still see you as Jongho from when we were kids… I do still see him, even if masked by this man you've become.”

Jongho smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he heard you say that you could still the old him, it meant a lot, considering how much he was pushing you away until now, until he realized he needed you close, he needed you as a best friend, he wanted you forever with him.

“I don't know… I think I was scared you think I did, considering how I've been acting, and the guys keep saying I changed through the years… I just wanted you to still like me? It's stupid I know—”

“It's not,” you cut him off, “it's not stupid, and yeah you've changed, everyone does, it's what's expected at least,” you chuckled once more cupping his face, caressing his cheeks softly. “It's not because you changed that I'll see you differently, I can see my little bear still there.”

A smile formed on his lips, touched by your words. He knew he changed, and he was scared you wouldn't like him, the much he changed. He had grown more mature — if that was even possible —, he only let his playful side show with the people he trusted, his body changed too, he could now protect you, not that he couldn't before, but now he could do it properly.

“I think you are one of the few people who know me for real, you know? How I can be shy and introverted, but still playful and—”

“Witty? Sarcastic? Annoying?”

“Hey!, don't pretend you don't like it when I annoy you.”

“Never said I didn't like it, I was just listing your traits, bear,” you laughed walking a bit away from him, but still holding his hand in yours. “Guess that's the childhood friend perk, right?”

Jongho chucked, nodding in agreement, squeezing your hand as he let you guide him through the streets. “Yeah… best friends from childhood perk.”

His gaze kept fixated on you, a mix of affection and contemplation as you kept walking until you saw a convenience store, reminding yourself you should get yourself a few things to eat. “Oh! Jjong, do you mind if we stop? I'm kinda hungry and also needing to buy a few things, it's gonna be quick I promise, but you can go back to the dorms too it's —”

“It's fine, we can buy something to eat, I could use a snack too, lead the way.”

You smiled at his reassuring one as you headed to the store, letting go of his hand to push the door open and grab a basket to pick a few things. Jongho followed you close behind into the store, staying close by your side as you looked for a quick snack to grab. As you browse the store's food options, Jongho's gaze notices a few guys stealing glances at you, their eyes lingering on you for a bit too long, obviously checking you out. A hint of irritation builds on his stomach as he moves to cover you from their view, that you appear to have never even noticed.

But you did, you were used to it, you were a woman in a man's world, of course you’d be aware of your surroundings and of any guy or group of guys close by, you learned it was best to ignore them, so it came a little as a surprise when you notice Jongho gingerly move to your side, covering you from the view of that group, making your heart flutter a little, but unsure if he was aware or if you should address it, afraid you were looking too much into something that was not it.

Jongho kept following you through the snack section, his eyes still flickering around the store, observing the guys that were checking you out. He could tell that you hadn't noticed the looks they were giving you, or were you purposefully ignoring them? Either way, he didn't like the way those guys were looking at you. It made him feel protective, and it stirred a possessiveness within him, the mere thought that those guys could approach you for any reason didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t tell you that, you just now became close again, he had no right to say anything… right?

He stayed close to you, positioning himself slightly behind you, as if subtly shielding you from their gazes. As you continued to look for your snacks, Jongho kept an eye on the guys from afar. He could feel his annoyance growing as he watched them stare at you, their gazes almost undressing you with their eyes. He wanted to confront them, to tell them to back off and stop looking at you like that, but he held back, knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea to cause a scene here, and he knew you hated confrontation.

Instead, he took a small step closer to you, his body almost brushing against yours, as if he was subconsciously trying to claim you, to let those guys know that you were off limits, making you look at him curiously. A frown appeared on your face as you noticed his clenched jaw, how close he seemed, but still keeping a respectful distance, how he was mostly shielding you than anything else, the way he was alert to every little thing that wasn’t you. “You okay?”

Jongho quickly snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that you had noticed his closeness and his tense demeanor. He quickly relaxed his expression, forcing himself to act casually as he looked at you. "Yeah, I'm fine."

“You are lying,” you said simply observing him for a moment before grabbing a few more snacks. “Is it because of those guys?”

“Wait, you noticed them?” A simple nod was all you answered. “They have been staring at you since we entered the store, but you… kept acting normally and even came to this section… When did you notice them? Don’t their stares make you uncomfortable?”

“I noticed them when i entered this section, but I was already here, it would probably be suspicious if I moved afterwards. Plus, if I don’t acknowledge them, it’s pretty nill the chance they approach, and I’m with you…They probably think you are my boyfriend or something…”

You tried your best to act nonchalant, but you couldn’t help but wanting to see or hear Jongho’s reaction to you saying they thought he’d be your boyfriend. Would he freak out? Would he act the part? Would he keep acting naturally? Would he make sure he was just a friend? Would he try to play it off as a protective brother?

Jongho felt a pang of protectiveness hearing your nonchalant response. He didn't like the thought of you being used to men ogling you and being harassed. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to just let it happen, that they should respect you more. In a streak of courage and wanting to comfort you somehow, he took the basket with one of his hands, as the other moved to hold the one that was previously holding the basket, looking at you tenderly. "I just… I don't like seeing them look at you like that. It… it makes me feel like I need to do something…"

"Like what? Fight them? It's pointless and will probably get you in trouble… and me saying something it's useless, men like that only respect other men…,” our words were quiet as you didn’t trust your own voice as you felt Jongho’s hand on yours, deciding to focus on getting the rest of the things you wanted, realizing he had no intend on letting go of your hand.

Not that you were complaining.

But he knew you were right. Picking a fight with those guys would only cause unnecessary trouble, and he knew that saying something wouldn't make a difference. He just hated the feeling of helplessness, knowing that you had to put up with that kind of behavior. "So what, we just do nothing? We just ignore them staring at you like you're some piece of meat?"

You wanted to laugh, but you simply smiled at him. Your heart is warm and fuzzy in your chest as you hear his words. "You already did," you commented with a small smile looking at him, chuckling when he looked at you confused. "First, you moved to cover me from their gaze, you already did something… and secondly… you are holding my hand, I’m pretty sure no one would be stupid to try anything.” You smiled at him shyly before looking away once more picking a few more random chocolates, just because.

"Oh... you noticed that, huh?" He chuckled nervously. "I didn't even realize I did it. I guess my protective instincts just kicked in automatically," he observed you once more, how you focused on things you wanted, how you kept holding his hand even after you basically called him out from doing so. That meant you didn’t mind it, right? “Are you… okay with me doing those things?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You are my best friend… If I can’t hold your hand from time to time to feel safe, what’s the point?” Jongho was silent for a moment, you were best friends, right… Since childhood, you thought he was just being protective because of that, which was in parts true, except, best friends don’t usually have their whole body aching to touch the other person, or the fluttering in his chest, or the butterflies in his stomach, or— “I’m done, should we go, or you want something else, bear?”

“Wha— Oh, no, I’m good, you sure you got everything you wanted?” Both your gazes fell on the half full basket, it was mostly sweets with a few salty snacks on the side.

“I’m sure, let’s go, there’s no one in line,” you quickly smiled at him before turning and heading to the cashier. You noticed as she perked up as she noticed the two of you approaching, noticing how she looked at Jongho, and how her expression fell as she saw the intertwined hands. Was it bad that you were happy that her expression fell? Considering you and Jongho were best friends, probably you should feel bad, but you pushed that thought aside, especially as you felt his hand squeeze yours, holding it to his as you made to pull away. “I kinda need my hand to pay, you know?”

The sound of the cashier passing the items filled your ears, but it quickly turned muffled as you looked back at Jongho, finding him already staring at you with a small smile on his lips, his thumb doing a light caress on the back of your hand. “Let me treat you. Please.”

“You want to pay for my groceries?”

“Yeah,” you looked at him like he had grown two heads, making him chuckle and step closer to you. “C’mon it’s nothing major, it’s just groceries, but I wanna do something nice for you… Also because I’ve been a dick to you a while back, I wanna make it up to you.”

“Let him pay,” you opened your mouth to protest, only to have the cashier tell you with a small smile, looking between the two of you before turning to Jongho. “Paying for the groceries is not enough, if you wanna be a good boyfriend and made up for what you did wrong you have to take her on a date or not let her lift a finger for at least the same amount of days you treated her poorly, which considering what I’m seeing, wasn’t as bad as you made it sound.”

The two of you chuckled as Jongho looked between you and the cashier confused, did you two know each other?

“He didn’t do anything that badly, don’t worry, he’s safe… for now,” you jokingly say as the cashier nodded with a smile, the both of you laughing as you saw Jongho a bit startled. Your hand squeezed his lightly with a small smile, leaving the path open so he could pay. “I still think you’ve done more than enough, but I won’t complain if that gets me free snacks.”

Jongho laughed looking at you softly before shaking his head, picking his wallet from his back pocket, his hand still holding yours like his life depended on it. The look the cashier gave you as she saw Jongho pulling the card made you blush a little, as you noticed she genuinely thought you two were a couple, and Jongho had probably done something he felt bad for it. A small flutter in your chest made you look away with your cheeks burning. Why were you enjoying this so much? All of it… Jongho’s attention, his hand on yours, him protecting you, people thinking he was your boyfriend.

“He’s a catch by the way, congrats on getting him,” she smiled at you knowingly as she handed you the groceries as Jongho put his wallet back in his pocket, swiftly moving to get the bags before you could get the heavier ones.

“I’m the lucky one to have her, not the other way around, goodnight.”

You were a bit shocked as he simply said that and led you away from the convenience store, but you could see a small lingering smile on his lips as you two walked in silence for a bit, hands still intertwined as you two headed back to your dorm.

“You don’t mind if she thought we were a couple?”

You finally built the courage to ask, but still couldn’t look at Jongho, but you felt his hand squeeze yours lighty.

“You didn’t look uncomfortable and… Technically you already said that those guys probably thought I was your boyfriend. I thought it wouldn’t cause any harm… Unless I made you uncomfortable, then —”

“No no!” You cut him quickly. “Sorry, no, I was actually scared it made you uncomfortable… I know how discreet you are and all…”

“I don’t mind, not when it’s you.”

Did he just say what he did?, that was what went over both your minds as you looked at each other, both a bit shy but still comfortable with each other. It was like the pieces were puzzling together, and it felt good.

“Oh, the baby decided to join us for once,” Wooyoung quickly says as soon as he sees Jongho entering Mingi’s room door, rolling his eyes. “What? (y/n) is too busy to give you attention?”

“It’s not like that… She’s stressed, and I know better than to get on her bad side when she’s like that, I still need my ears for class and such,” he closed the door sitting beside Yunho on one of the puffs on Mingi’s room. “What we talking about?”

“Mingi was telling about this girl he was seeing and how he took her to the arcade to, and I quote, ‘show his skills in the claw machine’...”

“But you have no skill…” Jongho quickly added looking at Mingi accusatory, making all the others laugh as Mingi just brushed it off.

“You all misunderstood, my skills with the claw, were what my lovely fingers can do, and I even got her a plushie so she can remember me and how good I am, okay? So I got my goal, you can mock me all you want, I’m getting laid while you are just fisting your hand thinking about your best friend.”

A choir of ‘ooooooh’s filled the room as Jongho just shook his head unaffected by Mingi’s words.

“Good things come for those who wait though…,” Yeosang chimed in with a half-warning tone to Mingi, as he exchanged a hi5 with Jongho.

“But Mingi did say something interesting—”

“Hey I always say something interesting, what you saying?”

San sighed ignoring Mingi, keeping his focus on Jongho. “You said (y/n) is stressed, didn’t you two were always at the arcade? What if you take them there? They can relieve stress, you two can get cozy—”

“They can see your skilled fingers…”

“MINGI!”

“What? IT WORKS OKAY?!”

“Anyways, I think it could work, it was something you two did constantly in middle school… just a thought baby brother.”

San raised his eyebrows to Jongho as he laid back resting his back on the wall behind him, with a small smirk to Jongho, who brushed it off, but already planning how to bring that subject with you, knowing it was definitely something that you liked and would help you relax, even if a little.

“C’mon star, just one!”

“Bear no! These things are a scam and you know it!” It didn’t matter your protests, Jongho still took your hand, leading you to the claw machines, his gummy smile was all it took for you to accept as he picked a coin putting you in front of it. “You are wasting your money, you know that right?”

“Money spent with you is never wasted, you know that, now go, pick a plushie,” your eyes wander through the machine trying to find an easy pick, setting your eyes in a bear plushie.

“That one, because it looks like you,” your smile grew as he rolled his eyes, “don’t give me that! You asked me to choose! I did, don’t give me that eye roll, you ass!”

“Right, right, my fault, you were only doing what I told you, true,” his gummy smile was back and you smiled back excitedly, even if you were certain you'd lose. “Okay, let’s go, I’ll put the coin, take your time!”

As soon as the coin entered, the machine lit it up, you quickly but steady — attempt of steady — moved the claw to where the bear plushie was, trying your best to place the claw on the right place to win the plushie. Surprise none as you got nothing, making you pout while Jongho laughed at your reaction.

“I told you it was a waste of money…”

“C’mon once more, just one, if you don’t get we can go get something else, hm?”

You pondered looking between Jongho and the machine, the small smile on his lips already knowing the answer as you nodded, getting ready to get the plushie once more, trying to trace the best approach to get it.

“You are an enabler of my bad behaviors.”

“I’m a believer in your abilities, it's different, now c’mon you’ll still be amazing if you don’t get that plushie,” his fingers quickly put the coin on the machine who lit up as you calmed down trying to get the plushie once more. As the claw grabbed part of the plushie, lifting, Jongho laughed wholeheartedly as you started to celebrate, only for your pout to get bigger as it fell just before reaching the deposit area. His arms quickly circled you, kissing your head in a comforting manner. “You did great, star, almost got the plushie!”

“But I wanted the plushie,” you kept pouting as you leaned on Jongho. “You try it! I already did the hard part, you can have two tries too, that’s fair, no?”

“You really want that plushie don’t you…?” You nodded with a small pout that turned into a smile as Jongho sighed. “Okay, two tries, but don’t expect much, okay?”

“If you don’t get me that plushie you’ll buy me a huge one,” he looked at you in disbelief. “A bit of playful threats is not bad, just a bit of pressure, you can handle it.” You laughed as he shook his head putting the coin on the machine, getting ready for his first try. Attentive eyes on the plushie and the claw, with a groan from Jongho and a small satisfied chuckle from you as he missed. “Not as easy, is it?”

“Oh, so this is payback? And here I was, being a good friend and getting my favorite person their plushie,” he pushed another coin in, not noticing how your eyes kept staring at him. You were his favorite person? Not favorite friend, but favorite person. That had to mean something right? Or were you just overthinking the way you two have been lately? Getting in too deep in how good you felt whenever you were with Jongho? What if— “YES! SUCK IT MACHINE!”

“You— you got the plushie…” your voice was barely a whisper as you saw the bear plushie coming out of the machine in Jongho’s hand as he handed it to you.

“Of course I did, I’d always get you a bear plushie, but you wanted this one, so I did my best to get it… so here,” he handed you the plushie as you took it in your hand, bringing it close to you in your arms as you looked at him a bit disbelief. “If we ever have to be apart again, even for a bit, and you miss me… Just hug the plushie and imagine it’s me, okay?”

Your mouth formed a thin line as you nodded, moving to hug Jongho, the bear plushie between your bodies as he giggled at your reaction, but his arms enveloped you still, as you two remained like that for a moment, before you moved away, with a smile to Jongho as you recovered a little from him winning you the plushie and the feelings you were trying to fight.

“It needs a name though… and since it reminds me of you and you said I should hug it if I miss you… How about Jjongbear?”

“You are a Literature Major, shouldn’t you be more creative with names?” He teased, his gummy smile returning as you looked at him annoyed. “Sorry, I had to… But sure, it’s yours, you can name it however you want, star.”

“How am I still friends with you? The boys are right, you and Yeosang are the true savages of the group,” you shook your head faking being upset as you took the bear and lifted it to look at you. “Your father may not appreciate you, but I do, Jjongbear!”

“Father? What are you talking about?”

“Already trying to bolt on parenting, tsk tsk tsk, your father would be disappointed,” you turned around to keep walking through the arcade.

“Yah! What do you mean father? I’m not fathering a plushie with my name in it!”

“You sure it’s okay I tag along, Jjong?”

It was a rhetorical question, technically it would be very hard to bolt now that you were in the car with Jongho heading to Yunho’s cabin in the mountains for the weekend.

“(y/n), me and the guys said it’s okay, should I play their audio telling me to bring you along again?” He chuckled at your nervousness, reaching for your hand on your thigh, squeezing your hand lightly as kept it there on your thigh. “Plus, it’s been a whole ass semester, you are part of the gang once more, you are even calling the boys out on their bullshit, we all like having you around, and I want you to come with, and enjoy it with us the end of finals.”

“I just sometimes feels like I’m barging in or something… I know we all know each other for ages, but I’m your best friend, and I’m a girl, and I feel like sometimes the guys hold back and—”

“Oh, no, they don’t hold back, they try to be respectful because otherwise I’ll beat their ass, and San, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Seonghwa also said they’d help, so you have three of the strongest guys on your side, but trust me, they are not holding back… Maybe Mingi is, but I doubt he will once we get there… When he drinks… well… you’ll see.”

You laughed at his words, looking at the highway before looking at your intertwined hands, the light caress of Jongho’s thumb on your hand a comfort reminder of his presence and care. “And where am I sleeping?”

“Oh, Yunho said his parents demanded you’d be in their room, saying that ‘you are not putting them to sleep with you boys, they can sleep in our bedroom, you eight are really loud when you want!’, so… you are the only one with an individual room.”

“Well… they aren’t wrong, the eight of you do get really loud, especially when drinking… God I don’t think I can forget when I went to Wooyoung’s room that one night and San was on the floor singing his lungs out, Wooyoung and Seonghwa were leaning on each other, Mingi and Hongjoong passed out in the corner Yeosang being the cutest and taking care of everyone along with you and Yunho, that were curiously the only ones standing… I still have questions, but I’m dreading the answers.”

Both of you laughed loudly at the memory of that day, his hand squeezed yours unconsciously as he focused back on the road. Suddenly, the rest of the trip to the cabin was about memory sharing, both from when you were kids and now in uni. Both feeling a sense of ease as the whole development of the situations happened, and again the feeling returned.

The feeling of puzzles fitting together.

That everything was falling into its rightful place.

That this was right.

“Yah! (y/n), help us out, I’m done being single, I want someone to hold and pamper…”

“Mingi, you are single because you are a manwhore,” he was gonna start to protest, but you beat him to it, “and no, you are not the only manwhore in this group, fear not.”

“Now you done it,” Jongho whispered to you as the guys started to protest, making you laugh loudly throwing your head back on the couch as Jongho took your empty shot glass to fill it once more for each of you. “Hey, they are not wrong! How many people have you guys slept with only this last semester?”

“For the record, I have my eyes on someone, she is the one that doesn’t want anything with me…,” San was quick to say with a pout.

“Of course she doesn’t, she has a girlfriend San, she doesn’t like dick!”

Your words silenced everyone, as everyone looked at San and you with shocked expressions.

“I don’t mind third wheeling, if that’s the case…”

Everyone burst into laughter at San’s response, everyone taking their shot of soju, Jongho had just poured for everyone. Quickly starting a new conversation as you put your glass back, deciding it was it for you. You never liked drinking, and you had a feeling you kept going you might do something that will ruin things.

“You okay?” Like kissing the man that just whispered in your ear as you felt his arms going over your shoulder, almost cradling you. Your head quickly resting on his shoulder as the tiredness of the past few sleepless nights, stress of the tests and muscle ache from the trip started to hit you. “You wanna head upstairs and sleep?”

“Yah! This is low! I just said I hate being single and you two keep acting like a couple, just date already!” You froze for a moment at Mingi’s words, you noticed how Jongho also froze, but still didn’t move away from you.

“Mingi is right, it’s pretty obvious you two like each other, why don’t you just date?”

“Yunho, we’ve been friends since forever, of course we’d be more comfortable—”

“You two like each other, just admit it already!”

“San is done playing cupid,” the boys all laughed at Wooyoung’s comment that followed San’s grumpy statement. “I mean, it would be easier if there were arrows to make you two realize you like each other, that’s true…”

“And don’t try to deny it, the heart eyes are there, especially when you two think the other isn’t looking,” Hongjoong was quick to say, followed by Yeosang.

“Nah, they are doing it to each other now, they can’t help it anymore.”

“I—I need to pee…” You quickly left the living room, heading to your assigned room, not noticing how everyone looked confused, except for Jongho and Yeosang who were upset and annoyed, respectively.

“You guys had to? Truly?”

“What? Yeo you know they wouldn’t admit it—”

“What if you guys are looking too into it, Wooyoung? What if this ends the friendship I literally just got it back?”

“We are not looking too into it,” San said sternly looking at Jongho who looked at his older brother scoffing. “You wrote a song to them, and keep writing songs about them. And they used to write your names and initials on any paper they could, now they just keeps close if you need them, because they became smarter after I caught them doing that all those years back. So no, they never had a crush on me, it was always you.”

“How you know I wrote a song to them?”

“That’s what you are focusing on? C’mon Jjong! You left your song notebook open one time when I went to your room to get something and I saw it, and you are not as subtle as you think when writing songs.”

“San is right, you are pretty obvious…”

“And they are pretty oblivious.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa chimed in again, taking another sip of their beer as all of them observed Jongho.

“And if you pay attention, the two of you already act like a couple, so why are you two so scared of acting on it? Everyone already thinks you two are dating… you should talk to them, after setting your head straight, but don’t take too long, the night is young but it’s from GenZ with bills to pay.”

The boys all kept quiet observing Jongho, who quietly got up taking a closed can of beer and took it outside, closing the door behind him as he went to sit on one of the rocks from a small path you and him had explored earlier when you two arrived before hitting the pool with the others. And it pained him to admit the others were right. You were acting like a couple. He cared for you like a boyfriend, his touch was thoughtful but possessive, he was protective, he hated seeing any guy try to hit on you or touching you too much, he hated when you said someone was attractive, or when you commented on something the guys were saying with hidden innuendos that you experienced something like that or similar before, making him question with whom.

You held hands whenever you could. You hugged all the time for any reason. You were always close together if any of you needed the other. You two were practically living in each other's rooms if you are not in the library studying. Everyone already knew you two were a package deal. Where one went, the other would too. He knew his feelings for you were not platonic or friendly, they were romantic, hell he even had a wet dream about you more than once! But he wasn’t certain from your part. You pushed him to girls you thought he’d think are attractive, you’d indulge into flirting with other guys, even if you always returned to him, making him send those exact guys death stares that made them all run and hide. Were you playing him? Or were in denial like he was, but doing it differently? Pushing him away along with the romantic feelings?

He sighted looking up in the sky. He always loved to come into the mountains, the sky was always clear, so he could easily see the stars that always reminded him of you, back when you two were friends, when you grew apart and now that you reconnected. The starry sky was always his companion to think of you when he couldn’t be with you for whichever reason. He heard the sound of a door, looking towards the cabin, but no one was there, so you looked up, finding you in the balcony, fidgeting your fingers. You were nervous. Was it for the same reasons he was? Because you were seeing that you liked each other and were in denial, or was it because you realized you were acting like a couple when you only saw him as a friend?

His eyes kept darting to the night starry sky back to you, his only star, his northern star, the only direction his heart pointed at since forever. He doesn’t know how long he stood there, but it was enough for his bear to run warm in his hands and the wind blow cold against his skin. He had watched you for long enough to realize he couldn’t pretend anymore, he wanted you, not just as a friend, he wanted you as a partner, a life partner.

If you didn’t want that, it was okay. He wanted you in his life, it didn't matter how.

As he rushed to the house, he left his beer on the counter, ignoring the guys’ questions as he headed upstairs towards your room, knocking it loud enough so you could hear even if you were still on the balcony. It took what seemed like forever for footsteps to be heard and you opened the door, widening your eyes and holding back from closing it again as you looked down your feet.

“Hey, sorry, can you tell the guys I’m not coming down? That I’m ready for bed, or something?”

“Can we talk first?”

Your silence and avoidance of eye contact was enough to tell him you knew what this was about and it was unsure if you wanted to.

“Is this about what the guys said?”

He nodded quietly. “I think… It’s something we need to talk about, if it’s… so obvious to everyone but us… no?”

You knew he was right, and he knew you knew. It was just a matter of you wanting to face this now or later. After a few seconds, you took a step back, letting him inside your assigned room, closing the door as he passed, unsure of how to behave. Jongho simply extended his hand for you to take it, hoping the silent request would be accepted by you.

A small smile formed as you took his hand, letting him guide you to the balcony, the two of you leaning against the fence, his hand still holding your, the light tender caress continuing soothing your fears and nerves without him even knowing.

“Is there a reason we are on the balcony?”

Your voice was quiet, scared even to break the silence and eventually the bubble to make the subject of you two come to light. Instead of looking at you, Jongho looked at the sky with a smile.

“Starry nights remind me of you,” he said simply before looking back at you, your eyes were slightly scared, scared of what he may say, scared of what you two would become after this talk. “Even when we lost touch, I loved to go to places where I could see the stars, because it helped me think of you.”

“Jongho, what—”

“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” at your eyes widening, he let out a wholeheartedly chuckle, taking your hand on both of his hands, before continuing. “I never said anything because we were young and idiots, and for some reason I was so sure you had a crush on San, that made me livid whenever he spent time with us and I saw you get all why and blushing and—”

“Because he knew I liked you,” he stopped talking the second you cut him off. So San was telling the truth, which meant that… you probably still liked him too? “He…” You started looking away from Jongho embarrassed of the childish memory. “He caught me one day writing your name with hearts, or both our names close to each other… I usually did that when I had a lot on my mind, thinking of you calmed me…”

“So… you were shy and flustered with San… because he knew you liked me back then?”

“And he caught on fast that I… still like you now.”

The last part came out as a hushed tone. Both your heads were spiraling as your hearts were racing. You two liked each other back then, and still do now… that meant…

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted out, making you chuckle, being followed by him, with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, sorry, I just… Is this as surreal to you as it is to me?”

You turned to him, biting your lip with a small nod. “I’m still stuck on the ‘I liked you since we were kids’ parts,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Jongho smiled, taking a step closer to you, testing the waters, testing if this was truly what you wanted, making you freeze for a moment. Your eyes almost automatically go to his lips before reaching his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, bear.”

“And neither do I, star… but… will you allow us to try… be more than we are now?”

At your silence and lingering gaze on his face, he tested reaching to you once more, which wasn’t badly received, especially as he felt your free hand on his arm, a silent invitation for him to continue. “Just don’t break my heart again.”

“I never intended on doing that, and I don’t plan on ever hurting you ever again,” he whispered as he leaned close, so close that you could feel each other's breaths against your faces. “I’ll ask again, and I’d like a direct answer… Can I, finally, feel your lips against mine?”

“Yes, please.”

Without a second to think, Jongho leaned in, his lips meeting yours hungrily but… tenderly? You could feel how much he wanted to savor you, but he also wanted to devour you. As his tongue asked for entrance, your hands moved to his shoulder and up his hair messing it up as you allowed him entrance, his hands quickly finding your waist and hip pulling your body close to him. It was like you were in purgatory, the delicious heaven of having his lips on your, but the burning sensation of wanting more. You gasped as you felt his cool finger trace the hem of your shirt, touching the warm skin underneath.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—”

“Bed, now,” you said against his lips pulling him back inside, his hand quickly moving to close the door that led to the balcony, your lips crashing once more. It was you were addicted, addicted to his lips, to his hands on you, to how every touch seemed to burn your skin in the most delicious way. His hands were strong, but cautious, touching just the right places to drive you insane as his lips met yours in a contained hunger.

“(y/n), I don’t want to push you—”

“Shut up,” you said against his lips once more, pushing him back to the bed, as soon a he fell on the bed, his hands were on your hip, playing with the hem of the shirt, tracing lazy burning patterns on your skin. “We are not making a mistake, are we?”

“No, this is not a mistake, unless you don’t want to…”

His tender and understandable eyes made you melt. How even in a situation like this, Jongho could still be the most respectful and caring guy you could ever meet, even when you could feel how much he wanted you, in the way he kissed you, touched you, how he devoured you with his eyes, but still keeping them with a hint of tenderness? How were you lucky to have a man like this fall for you?

“I want you Jongho, but I want all of you,” you moved to stand between his legs, your hands on his hair pushing it away from his face, who looked at you with such care and hunger that was mimic in his actions, on how his hands traveled your body, possessively but like committing every curve, every stretch, every gap to memory. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming…”

“You are not dreaming star,” his smile was almost calming to you, as you let a sigh of relief closing your eyes, gasping as you felt his lips on the exposed part of your shirt his fingers were playing with, a mischievous but cautious smile appeared on his lips, as his face hovered against your stomach. “Is this okay? I’m sorry, I just want you too, all of you… if you have me.”

Instead of answering with words, you moved to straddle Jongho, keeping eye contact as it felt like you were dreaming still. Dreaming his lips had been on yours, that his hands were touching your skin under your shirt, that his lips touched the skin of your stomach, that he was underneath you, looking at you with the mix of lust and love. As your weight settled on top of Jongho, he closed his eyes, controlling his reaction.

There was so much he wanted to do to you, but he never wanted to make you uncomfortable, he was waiting for you cue, to anything that could tell what you wanted, he’d give you anything and everything. He was yours and you were his, and he was gonna make sure you felt loved with every piece of your body and soul.

You leaned forward once more, your lips touching his, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you on his lap, gasping against the kiss as you felt his half-hard cock underneath you. His lips moved to your jawline as you moved your hips against his bulge, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh as your nails sank on his shoulder, one of your hands moved to his hair once more. Your movements become less precise as you feel his lips and tongue on your neck.

Tiny murmurs of ‘is this okay?’, ‘so perfect’, so pretty’, ‘been dreaming of this for so long’, along with your own gasps and silent moans as you kept your movements, feeling his getting harder underneath you as he worshiped your neck, his hands moving from your hip, to waist, to back and all over again, until he stopped your hips, taking his head away from your neck. Hooded eyes, swollen lips, you held back from kissing him, as you moved your hips instinctively having him groan and close his eyes with a small ‘fuck’ coming out of his mouth.

“(y/n), I’m controlling myself pretty well, and I’m pretty good at that, but I won’t be able to control much with you moving like that on top of me, with a bed right here with us… I don’t want to push you into—”

“What if I want to?” His eyes shot up, searching for any type of deception on your eyes, or hints that it wasn’t truly what you wanted. “We are not children anymore Jongho, we are not freshly teenagers. I know what I want, and I want you.”

“Fuck, don’t say things like that….”

“Why? You don’t think I know what I want?” You said cheekily, testing the waters as your finger traced his jaw and lips. “I want you to make me yours for real Jongho, because I’ve been yours for longer than I’d like to admit.”

“I’ve been yours since the first time we met, even when we were kids, I was yours, you were always it for me. You were always the person I compared to others, and God I searched for you everywhere when I lost you… And I’m scared that if I give in this easily you’ll vanish… I still can’t believe I have you back, I can’t believe I have you like this.”

You smiled genuinely leaning in and kissing Jongho, this time was calmer, full of passion but no desire but to show love for each other. You pushed your body forward, making Jongho fall on his back as you kept kissing him. “I’m yours Jongho, always been, always will be.”

In a swift movement Jongho moved you so he was on top, your legs quickly wrapping around his hips, your hands on his arms, one of his hands cupping your face, caressing your cheek. “Are you sure? Because I swear, you are making it impossible to—”

“I’m sure, please, Jjong.”

“Okay,” he said after a while with a small smirk on his lips as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “but we are doing my way, star.”

Before you could say anything, his lips found the spot under your ear, kissing it tenderly as his hands started to wander your body just lie before, committing every part to memory, like you are a marble, a painting, a book he wanted to undercover all its secrets. You gasped as his hands moved your shirt up, exposing until under your breasts, while his lips tasted every part of your neck and chest, he moved from the valley of your breasts to your midriff, keeping with the tender small lingering kisses on your skin, worshiping every little part you had of your body.

While one of his hands kept your shirt up, the other swiftly pulled your sweats down a little so he slid his hand to your pants, pads of his fingers tracing slow eight figures on your clit over your panties, making you gasp. Instinctively your hands went to his hair, while the other held his arm that held your shirt over, moving it to expose your bra, which we quickly pushed to the side, mouth involving your breasts as his movements on your clit grew faster, making you squirm under him.

“Jongho, pl–please…”

“Your wish is my command, my love.”

His mouth met your neck once more, as his fingers pulled your panties to the side, his middle finger teasing your entrance. As you were about to complain, his index and middle fingers entered you, skillfully curling inside of you before leaving, only to enter again. You could go insane just by what he was doing. As your moans grew louder, he moved his mouth to yours, muffling your sounds as his fingers sped up, his thumb pressing your clit as his fingers curled inside of you.

“Quiet (y/n), we don’t want the guys to come and take a peak.”

“Sorry, just— argh! So good, so so good, Jjong, God!”

His laugh against your neck made you shiver as he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine as your orgasm was denied, but before you protested, Jongho brought his fingers soaked on your juice to his lips, before smirking at you. “Can’t wait to taste you properly, clothes off, lay on the bed, head on the pillows and try to keep it down, I don’t want anyone interrupting us, or seeing how good I’ll make you feel, okay?”

“I like this side of you…”

He smirked as you two started to take your clothes off. “Good, because you’ll see more and more of it from now on.”

As you lay down on the bed, completely naked, you took a moment to appreciate Jongho’s naked form the same way he was doing to you. His toned muscles, his tanned skin, the hidden parts that only you were able to see, because he was yours and no one else’s. He slowly moved back to the bed positioning himself in front of your legs, his hard cock leaking as his hands touched your knees, gently spreading your legs, revealing your soaking cunt, a bit red from the mess his fingers did to you.

Instead of digging for it, he teased you. His lips trailing kisses over your legs from your shoulder to the junction of your thigh and hip, repeating on the other side, before making himself comfortable on the bed, holding your thighs as he started to leave tender kisses on your labia, making you jolt your lips as they touched your sensitive clit, your hands going to his hair, as he started to lick your clit, leaving small kisses, before starting to make out with your cunt. The way you could feel his lips and tongue everywhere was driving you to the edge.

He was eating you like no one ever had.

No, he wasn’t eating you out, he was making out with your cunt.

Like he had all the time in the world.

Because he had, he had all the time in the world to make you feel good.

And God you tried your best to keep it down.

Quiet, hushed moans, with few exceptions that made Jongho chuckle against your core, making your whole body reverberate with it.

Your legs probably shook three times before he finally stopped kissing your cunt, the way your whole body was like pudding at that moment was insane, and yet, you wanted more. You wanted him inside.

“Jongho, please, I need you inside…”

“Are you sure you can take it, (y/n)? I have a feeling I spent you too much already,” he hovered above you with a cocky smile as he pushed your hairs away from your face, caressing it tenderly, his eyes were sweet, cautiously, slightly worried if he was pushing your body’s limit already.

“I’m sure,” you nodded as your voice sounded breathlessly. It was true, you were spent, but in the best way possible, and your body ached for him. “I’m sure, Jjong, I can take it, please.”

“I don’t have a condom…”

“You can pull out, I’m on the pill, as long as you are clean, we are good.”

He couldn’t help but find your eagerness endearing.

“I’ll be gentle, promise.”

And he was.

His hands gently moved you around the way that would be the most comfortable for you, gently spreading your legs wider as he positioned his cock at your entrance. Looking at you once more to confirm, you nodded back. Jongho positioned himself before leaning into you, lips meeting in a gentle, sweet kiss as his cock slowly entered your hole. Your lips parted as you felt him fill you up, allowing Jongho to kiss your face and neck, as his hands wandered your body in a worshiping manner.

As he finally entered you full, he gave you time to adjust, moving slowly, not fully pulling out, his hips moving slowly as one of his hands kept his weight out of you, the other exploring every part of your body, cupping your face, making you look at him, as his pace increased, observing every reaction you had so he could make sure not to push you too much, but just enough to make you feel good.

His lips once more found yours as you both started to get more and more needy for each other, his movements getting faster, precise, as your nails scratched his back, your legs wrapped around his hips for a moment, making you almost scream for how good it felt. Your nails digging on his flesh made him groan as his movements became sloppier, allowing you to move to kiss his jawline and neck, hearing him curse speeding his movements. His head hid on the crook of your neck as he held you close. Your body was already easily shaking, but he tried his best to control your release while trying to reach his.

You clenched around him more and more, moaning against his ear, ‘that’s it’, ‘fuck so good’, ‘don’t stop’, ‘fuck you are so tight’, a mix of words between you and Jongho as you hid your screamed moan on his shoulder finally hitting your high, he slowed down riding out your high, before detaching himself from you, pulling out and fisting his hand. The sight of your fucked out face, almost making him cum in sight, a few stroke after his cum was over your torso as both of you were spent in bed.

“Stay put, I’ll be right back,” he said breathlessly to you, heading to the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel, wetting half to clean you up. As he was sure you were clean, minding the sore spots, he tossed the towel to the sink, as he moved to lay beside you. “You okay? Not too sore?”

“I’m fine, you were perfect,” you said leaning in kissing his lips, his hand finding your hip, pulling you closer to him as his other hand served as base for your head to rest. You quickly pulled the covers over the two of you, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm around you, caressing the skin of your arm feather-like, your legs tangling. Your free hand draws lazy patterns on his chest, before his free hand envelops yours bringing to his lips.

A small tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you, Jongho.”

general masterlist here ♡ !

permanent taglist ♡ !

network: @cromernet ♡ @pirateeznet ♡ @illusionnet ♡ @mirohs-aurora-society ♡

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE OR REPURPOSE.

215 notes · View notes

certaimromance · 1 day ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 The Girl Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: If Spencer thought being secretly in love with you was hard, having to avoid you in the hallway was even worse.

Words: 4,8k.

Warnings & Tags: mention of jail. painting!reader. post prison reid. spencer’s pov. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. angst, so much angst. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I struggled a lot writing this because it's a roller coaster, so sorry in advance.

“How long? It's not a problem to take care of everything, but I'd like to know if you'll be okay or—” Your voice almost cracked for a moment, your eyes still trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Spencer's sheets were still wrapped around your body, and you felt so connected to them that the thought of getting up while still watching him toss and turn looking for his shoes was too much.

“I don't think more than a day or two, I'll be fine.” He stopped his chaotic steps for a second and stared at you as if to make a promise. He paused, glancing away as if to compose himself before adding, “I have some work in Mexico. It came up last minute, or I’d have told you earlier.” His voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, and the words sounded rehearsed, like he was repeating something he’d practiced.

You frowned slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “Work in Mexico?” you echoed. “Since when do they send you out of the country for cases?”

“It’s not that kind of work,” he said quickly, his tone just a little too smooth, a little too practiced. “It’s…consulting. A conference on forensic advancements, some behavioral workshops—things like that.” He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, as if afraid to meet your eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”

You didn’t question him further. Why would you? Spencer wasn’t the type to lie, and the way his brows knit together, the way his voice softened with the promise, “I’ll be back soon,” made you believe him. But something about the way he shifted his weight, the way he avoided looking directly at you, left a faint unease in your chest.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have dinner with you yesterday. And breakfast now. I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to fill the silence.

You tightened the sheets around yourself, curling into their warmth, feeling the lingering heat from the side of the bed where he had been only moments before. It felt like he had never really left, the space around you still filled with the faint echo of his presence. Watching him now, his movements a little frantic, his gaze flickering toward the clock every so often, made you feel like he was slipping away too quickly. A part of you, small and selfish, wanted to ask him to stay. To sit back down, to let the world and his trip wait just a little longer.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment, “Promise?”

Spencer’s gaze softened even further, a tenderness washing over his features as he moved closer to you. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes but was filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Promise,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle, as though sealing a pact between the two of you. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing your forehead before his lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. The kiss was tender, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though he didn’t want to pull away from this moment either. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, the space between you vanishing entirely. It felt like the world had narrowed to just this—just the two of you—and all the invisible lines you had drawn between friendship and something more blurred into nothing.

But before you could do something stupid, he pulled back, with his eyes lingering on you, still filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Have you seen my shoe?” he asked, his voice playful yet tinged with the usual frustration of his misplaced belongings.

You let out a small laugh, still wrapped in the sheets, the warmth from them mingling with the warmth of the moment. “Oh, you’re a mess, little boy,” you teased, your voice light and affectionate, the fondness for him slipping out in every word.

“Mittens take it again?” Spencer asked, his eyes glinting with playful exasperation. He had grown accustomed to your cat’s antics, and he could hardly be surprised at this point.

You nodded, grinning as you pointed to the underside of the bed. “Ding ding, genius,” you replied, your voice light and teasing as his gaze followed your finger. Sure enough, there it was, tucked under the bed—another casualty of your mischievous cat’s nightly adventures.

He grumbled good-naturedly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the chaos of the morning didn't matter when you were here with him and everything felt so domestic. As he bent down to pick up his shoe, you couldn't help but watch, your heart swelling at the sight of the man you were so in love with, even in his messiest moments. There was something about him—something in that moment—that made him feel so good, as if everything else could wait and the obvious fact that he didn't feel the same way about you didn't matter. Anyone outside the room generally didn't matter. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in sheets and laughter, clinging to a piece of time that was all yours and would be the only thing you'd have left when he was gone.

“She loves you, that’s why she does it…I guess she wants your attention,” you said, your voice trailing off, and the taste of the words felt sour in your mouth. It sounded too much like you were talking about yourself rather than your pet, and the realization hit you like a cold wave. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t.

He glanced at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I read something about that,” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he didn’t entirely understand the weight behind your words. It didn’t matter. You were used to it by now.

“You read about everything.” You gave him a small, rueful smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, the bitterness of the moment creeping into your voice. You were fine with it, you told yourself. Fine with everything.

He glanced at the clock, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I have to go…it’s late,” he said, and you could hear the quiet resignation in his voice. The moment, it seemed, had reached its inevitable end.

“Okay.” The word slipped out of your mouth more dryly than you intended, and you hated the way it sounded. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want the moment to end. But it was already slipping away, and you knew it. “But before you go…come here.”

He hesitated, looking at you with uncertainty in his eyes. But then, slowly, he took a step toward you, his face softening when you reached out to touch his cheek. The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and your heart skipped a beat at the contact.

“Is…is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if sensing the shift between you.

“No, I just want to say goodbye properly.” You shifted closer, your heart hammering as you moved toward him, your lips hovering near his. The temptation to close the distance, to kiss him, burned inside you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Take care and come back,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you meant. You kissed his forehead gently, your fingers instinctively smoothing his hair down as you did. “Now it’s like you have my blessing,” you added with a faint smile.

He smiled at you, the warmth in his expression a bittersweet thing that made your heart ache. “Thank you, and good luck tomorrow with my godchildren’s.” His voice was soft, but the moment was already passing, slipping away, and with it, the space between you both. He gathered his things, gave you one last lingering look, and then turned toward the door.

You stood there, watching him go, the weight of what you didn’t say crashing down on you. The door clicked shut behind him, and you felt a hollow ache in your chest, a longing you couldn’t quite name.

God, you really wanted kissed him.

God, he really wanted you kissed him.

When Spencer opened his eyes for the first time in a cell and felt a sickening jolt of disorientation. The dirty walls and a rickety bench stared back at him, mocking the comforting image of his organized room and, more painfully, the thought of you. The absence of your laughter, your touch, your presence—everything that had once grounded him—hit him like a freight train. He knew something was wrong.

As the days blurred together and the evidence piled against him, he clung to the belief that this nightmare wasn’t real. Every hearing, every damning piece of evidence that chipped away at his freedom, felt surreal. Even when the judge handed down his sentence, condemning him to months behind bars, the finality of it didn’t register. What shattered him was the moment he filled out his visitation schedule and consciously omitted your name. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like that. He didn’t ask anyone to explain, didn’t try to soften the blow of his absence. That, he thought, was the point of no return—the moment he lost everything.

But Spencer was so wrong. The true breaking point came when he walked out of that hellhole, finally free, and climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a physical ache, the pain in his chest sharper and heavier with every step. His hands trembled as he reached for his keys, the jangling sound unnervingly loud in the empty hallway. His gaze fell on your door, just a few steps away. The familiar sight sent his stomach into knots.

For the first time, he wished you wouldn’t be there.

The thought was alien, unnatural. You had always been there, and he had always wanted you there. When he was too drained to cook, you’d suggest their usual coffee spot, your smile lighting up the grayest of mornings. When his back ached from long nights bent over case files, you’d massage his shoulders, insisting scented candles could fix his bad posture and his bad days. When his mother’s health took a downturn, and he felt his world crumbling, you’d hold him, stroke his back, and promise that everything would be okay. And when his social battery was drained at reunions, you’d step in with your bad jokes or your art facts, making the world feel manageable again.

Now, standing in front of his own door, his fingers clumsy with the lock, all he could hope for was silence. He didn’t know how to face you, didn’t know if he could explain the broken pieces of himself.

His door creaked open, and he was greeted by the familiar scent of the home he had only dreamed of for the last while. It was overwhelming: clean clothes, slightly sweet candles, and something undeniably yours. The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stopped the moment he left three months ago and never returned until now. His heart shrank as he took it all in: the blanket you insisted on leaving on the couch, the pile of books you always meant to return to his library but never did, his fish swimming around as if nothing had happened, and even the plants by the window, thriving despite his absence because you had surely watered them without fail.

And then there were the little details, things that told him that you had not moved away from this place, from him. The plate you always left for his cup of coffee, the one you gave him last Christmas, was still on the counter. His favorite cardigan, the one he thought he had misplaced, was folded neatly on the back of the chair and smelled of the baby softener you liked to use. His books were exactly where he had left them, although one of them had a bookmark you had made, a telltale sign that he had read it and was waiting for him to come back to comment on it, as you always did.

But he hadn’t returned.

Not then. And maybe not now at all.

Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang, its shrill tone slicing through the heavy silence like a sharp reminder of reality. The vibration against his skin startled him, his body tensing as he pulled the device out. His gaze flickered down to the screen, and the name that appeared caused a knot to form in his stomach: JJ. His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing, unsure if he was ready for the conversation he knew would follow. But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding her. Jennifer wouldn’t let him slip away unnoticed, and if he didn’t answer, she might show up at his door, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he had.

With a resigned sigh, he swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”

The concern in his own voice surprised him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe he was just desperate to shift the focus away from himself.

“Everything’s fine,” JJ replied, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve been…quiet.”

He exhaled slowly, staring out the window, the city lights stretching before him and the memories cutting deep. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Just trying to catch up on things. All good here.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and there was a pause—a hesitation that made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing her next words. Then she cleared her throat, the sound small but deliberate. “Have you seen…her?”

The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He turned away from the window abruptly, pacing the length of the apartment as if motion could somehow ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw clenched, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I don’t know if I want to.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. How could he say that when every thought of you still made his heart ache? When the idea of you haunted him, so vivid and constant it felt like you were in every shadow of his empty apartment?

Jennifer’s sigh crackled over the line, heavy and filled with the weight of unspoken truths. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with that unshakable sadness she tried so hard to hide. “Every time I see her. I think…” She hesitated again, and Spencer could hear her swallow hard, choosing her next words carefully. “I think you owe her an explanation.”

He swallowed saliva and tightened his fingers around the phone. JJ was right, of course. She always had been. But the idea of facing you, of trying to explain everything without drowning in tears, seemed impossible. How could he tell you the truth? How could he look you in the eye and admit that he had spent the last three months in jail, paying for a crime he had not committed? That he had done things that he deeply regretted, that made him sick and a horrible person?

You deserved better. You always had.

You were a blessing to anyone who had you around, and he knew that better than anyone. That's why he recommended you as a babysitter for JJ's kids, that's why he insisted that you come out to the bar with him and the team several times, that's why he told his mother about you, and that's why he gave you unlimited access to every single part of his life and told you things he'd never told anyone else. You were the one he thought of during those long, sleepless nights behind bars when JJ brought drawings from her boys. He imagined you there with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Henry with his homework or letting Michael pile blocks on your lap. It was silly—heartbreaking, even—but the thought of you, of your warmth and your kindness, had kept him going.

“I have to go…clean some things,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, so desperate to run away from the topic.

“Okay,” JJ replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Before Spencer could find the strength to speak, the line fell silent. The hum of the apartment filled the space around him, oppressive in its quiet, and he stood there, phone still clenched in his hand. The weight of it, the weight of everything, settled deeper into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the counter as if it could offer him some sort of escape from the quiet agony that had overtaken him. With a long exhale, he dropped the phone, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary, before pulling away with a heavy sense of finality.

Just as he was about to move, his mind already drowning in the whirlpool of thoughts he was so desperate to escape, a soft, muted thud broke the oppressive stillness of the apartment. The noise was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating quiet, it reverberated like a crack of thunder. His breath caught, his heart skipping a beat as his body went rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, his eyes locking onto the open balcony door.

A sleek black shape emerged from the shadows, moving with a practiced elegance that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light. Mittens.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the single syllable, hoarse and unsteady as if even addressing his might shatter the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.

The cat paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if considering him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then, without a second thought, she padded over, her steps confident and unhurried, the soft click of her claws against the floor the only sound in the room. She jumped lightly onto the couch, then onto the small table beside him, her movements fluid and practiced. As she reached him, Mittens sniffed his hand delicately, then nuzzled it gently, her warm, soft fur brushing against his fingertips. The familiar rumble of her purring filled the air, a soothing, almost hypnotic sound that cut through the tension and wrapped around him like a blanket.

Spencer let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the apartment. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the soft fur of her head, unable to stop himself from reaching out.

Mittens leaned into his touch, her purr intensifying as her little body pressed against his hand, seeking warmth, some affection. She didn't care about the months she hadn't seen him or just heard his name spoken a thousand times by you. To her, he was still Spencer, the same one who had fed her, played with her, and cared for her whenever he could. That was enough. She was very happy.

“You still remember me,” he murmured, a faint, fragile smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in what felt like an eternity.

The cat blinked up at him, her green eyes half-lidded with contentment, as if to say, Of course I do.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand resting on her soft fur, letting her purring fill the empty spaces inside him. It was such a small thing, her presence, but it reminded him of you—of the life he’d left behind, the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until now.

But the calm didn’t last, and Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he heard a soft knock on the door. His gaze snapped up from the cat, who was now lazily sprawled across the arm of the couch, her purring uninterrupted. The knock came again, this time paired with a voice that sent a jolt through his chest.

“Mittens?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew it instantly. It was you.

Another knock followed, gentle but insistent. “Are you here, baby?”

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening as he registered the sound of your voice. You were here, in his apartment—or at least on the threshold of it. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see you again.

The cat, oblivious to the tension that suddenly filled the room, stretched lazily before hopping down from the couch. Her tail flicked behind her as she padded toward the door, her movements casual, as if she belonged here. Her eyes were fixed on you as you stepped through the open door, your figure partially silhouetted by the light from the outside.

“There you are,” you said softly, your voice brimming with relief. The warmth in your tone hit him like a physical blow, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

You crouched down to scoop the cat into your arms, your movements gentle and practiced. “You scared me,” you murmured, cradling her against your chest. Your voice softened, carrying that familiar tenderness he’d missed so desperately. “You’ve been running off so much lately.”

Spencer pressed himself against the shadowed wall, willing himself to disappear. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even look at you for fear his body might betray him. The apartment was dark enough to hide him, but he knew the signs of his presence were everywhere—his phone abandoned on the counter, the faint indentation on the couch, the way the air seemed to shift with the weight of him being there.

You didn’t notice. Your focus was entirely on Mittens as you stroked her soft fur, your touch so gentle it made Spencer ache. “I know you miss him,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips so quietly they almost didn’t reach him. “I do too.”

The confession tore through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, and he bit down hard on his lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

You lingered for a moment, your gaze sweeping over the apartment as if you could feel his presence, even if you didn’t see him. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned back toward the door.

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Mittens’ head before stepping into the night.

The door closed with a quiet click, and Spencer was left alone once more. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face. The silence was deafening, a hollow, aching void that swallowed him whole.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe fate didn’t want you to see him again—at least, not yet.

But then, the next morning, it happened.

You were returning to your apartment, groceries in hand, when you saw him.

He was standing at the end of the hallway with his back to you, as if he was leaving his apartment. As soon as you saw him, your heart skipped a beat and all your rational thoughts vanished. It seemed like an eternity since you had seen him, even though it had only been a few months. Your first instinct was to run to him, throw yourself into his arms, and demand an explanation, but something about his posture made you hesitate. He was stiff, distant, almost sad. His usual warmth was nowhere to be seen. And yet there was something different about him: his long hair, now a bit wilder and more unruly, framed his face in a way you had never seen before. Some curls fell over his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker and darker. The change in his appearance was shocking.

Without thinking, you dropped your groceries at your door and hurried toward him. “Spencer!” you called, your voice trembling with a rush of emotions you had bottled up for months.

He turned slowly, and for a split second, his eyes locked with yours. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, maybe guilt, but it quickly faded, replaced by a cool distance you had never seen in him before, at least not with you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. It was instinct, more than anything, to wrap your arms around him like you always used to do. The warmth of his body felt like home, like everything you had missed was right there in your arms. You held on tightly, breathing him in as if this would somehow make up for the absence. You’d been so lonely without him, and this, just holding him again, felt like it would fix everything that has been wrong lately.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t move an inch. This time his body was rigid, unyielding, as if he didn’t feel you or want you around. He did not return your hug. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it or really want it. His arms remained stiff at his sides, and you could feel his breath hitching against your neck, but he didn’t respond. It was like hugging a stranger, someone you once knew but no longer recognized.

“God, I missed you…” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was unreadable. His long hair now brushed against the collar of his shirt, the unruly beard framing his jawline. But his eyes were the only thing that stayed the same—cold and distant, void of the tenderness they once held. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence hung between you, thick and oppressive, before he finally spoke, his voice flat. “Sorry, I…I don’t think I’m the best person for that right now.”

Your heart sank, the warmth of the hug and reunion evaporating into a hollow chill. “What happened?” you whispered, feeling the pain creep into your voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so worried for you and JJ don’t say so much.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look like Spencer, not the one you had known—kind, warm, and always ready to offer comfort. His face was hard, closed off, and distant. He seemed…different, almost cold. “I’m sorry, I needed to get to…work,” he said, his voice clipped and curt. “I didn’t think you’d be awake at this hour.”

You felt a pang of confusion and hurt at his words. “What do you mean? You didn’t want to see me? You haven’t been here in months,” you said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. “You just disappear, and then you show up here, like nothing happened? You sleep here? I came to your apartment last night, and you weren’t there.”

He didn’t react. No apology, no acknowledgment of the pain he’d caused. He just stood there, cold, distant. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost sounding like an afterthought. “I had work to do. It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “That’s all you’ve got after disappearing for three months?”

Finally, his eyes met yours again, but there was no warmth in them. No tenderness, no familiarity. His gaze was hard, as cold as his words. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply, his tone final, cutting through the air like a knife.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The warmth that had once filled your heart whenever Spencer entered a room, the gentle care he had shown you, was now replaced by something colder. It was as if the person you had known—the person who had been your friend, your confidant—had vanished along with the man who used to leave you sweet notes and show up with your favorite food after a rough day.

“You…you don’t owe me anything?” you whispered, your heart breaking with each word.

The silence stretched between you again, suffocating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

But it was hollow, empty. A formality. Not an apology that meant anything.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned, walking away. “I have to go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still detached.

Before you could say anything else, he turned, leaving as quickly as he had appeared. And just like that, he was gone again—leaving you alone with the deafening silence and a heart full of questions.

Just like your worst fear: Spencer was avoiding you in the hallway.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #matthew gray gubler

183 notes · View notes

zepskies · 6 hours ago

Text

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#genuinely one of the loveliest reviews I've ever recieved 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback

562 notes · View notes

solxamber · 2 days ago

Note

Hellooo :]

Pomefiore, 6, hurt/comfort

I'm so excited to see what you come up with! <3

I have once again succumbed to vil, I'm trying to choose others for pomefiore but... vil...

Last Thread || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

The argument had started small—a passing comment about your schedule, a critique of his relentless perfectionism—but it spiraled out of control before either of you could stop it.

"You're impossible sometimes, Vil," you said, your voice rising. "It's like you don't even listen to me!"

"And you think I’m being unreasonable?" Vil snapped back, his tone colder than you’d ever heard it. "Forgive me for expecting excellence!"

It stung, hearing that edge in his voice, like a blade cutting through the bond you cherished.

"Vil, this isn't about excellence. It's about you shutting me out and treating me like—like I don’t matter!"

He flinched, the sharpness in your words hitting their mark. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it felt like the only way to get through.

“I would never—” He paused, his hands trembling slightly before he crossed his arms to steady them. “Why can’t you understand that this is who I am? This is what I need to do!”

“Maybe I do understand, but I can’t keep standing here feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” you retorted, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, Vil, but I cannot stand to be here right now!”

You grabbed your coat from the back of the chair and turned toward the door, your heart aching even as your hand reached for the handle.

“Wait.” His voice cracked, and the sound rooted you in place.

When you turned back, you saw something in his eyes you rarely saw: fear. True, unguarded fear. His lips parted as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Say that again.”

You froze, realizing what he meant. His composure, the armor he wore so well, was gone. His violet eyes were wide, vulnerable.

You sighed, your heart softening as you stepped closer. Slowly, you cupped his cheeks, the tension in his jaw melting under your touch.

“I love you, Vil,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But I need some air. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your palms like he was holding onto the words, clutching them tightly in his heart. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but you could feel the relief in it.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before stepping back and leaving, the air outside sharp and cold against your skin.

When you returned an hour later, Vil was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he hadn’t moved since you left.

The moment you stepped inside, he stood, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of anxiety and hope.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. “For shutting you out, for making you feel like you didn’t matter. You do. More than anything.”

You stepped closer, setting your coat aside. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed you to hear me.”

“I hear you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t lose you. You’re the only person who sees me—truly sees me—and I…” His breath hitched as he struggled to find the words. “I need you.”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the gap between you, wrapping your arms around him. He clung to you, his grip almost desperate as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“I’m here,” you murmured, running a soothing hand down his back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and mutual understanding.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I’ll do better. For you.”

“And I’ll be here,” you said with a small smile. “For you.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re my last thread holding me together, darling.”

“Then I’ll never let go,” you promised, sealing it with a kiss.

we like communication and peaceful argument resolution in this house

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil #twst vil #𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event

212 notes · View notes

enhaniki-san · 17 hours ago

Text

exes - reader x niki ✶⋆.˚

warnings: very suggestive content, cursing, angst, break up, etc.

it's first day of school for everyone but it would also be the first time you will see niki after the break up.

before, you just suffered alone. uninstalling all social medias so you wouldn't see anything about him but every time you closed your eyes, you would imagine his laugh in your head, the warmth of his touch, his smiles...

you will scroll through messages. his texts that are full of teasing words and reassurances, it's there, all untouched. your fingers would hover over his name, your chest tightening as you debated whether to reach out or not.

"i lost him." you'd whisper to yourself then you would cry and cry and cry every night you wake up with a headache.

the hardest part is realizing that deep down, you just might be replaceable cause he's niki, he can get whoever he wants without even trying so hard.

niki though, he didn't just became distant. he became irritated and short-tempered like... the smallest things would just set him off.

teammate joking about something? niki would snap with his sharp words enough to silence the entire locker room. accidentally bumping into him? his glare would freeze them in their tracks.

and at home, niki would push his food around on his plate, appetite gone. his mom would ask if he was okay and he’d just nod without looking up, muttering a quick, "yeah, i'm fine." sometimes, he wouldn't even eat at all.

he would also sleep too much, oversleeping so often that his friends stopped bothering to wait for him in the morning. the mornings where he usually wake up crying.

you were his first girlfriend, one person he actually loved.

you were sitting at your table, surrounded by a group of people from your class, all of whom were currently losing their minds over something you'd said.

"wait, wait- say that again!" one of them choked out, clutching his stomach from laughing too hard.

you smirked, leaning back in your chair with that effortless confidence that somehow came and went depending on the situation.

the table erupted into another round of laughter and you couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the attention.

across the room, niki can't help but to watch. he leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest while one eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and irritation.

he saw the way you had those guys wrapped around your finger. loud laughters, they leaned in a little too much...

he rolled his eyes, "the fuck?" he muttered under his breath.

"bro, are you mad again?"

niki looked away from you for a second, glaring at his friend. "i'm not mad."

"you're mad." his friend shot back, smirking. "and for what? don't you realize you could get literally anyone you want? like, just pick someone and boom, problem solved."

niki scoffed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. he's becoming very tired of hearing it. "you think i care about that? i don't want anyone."

niki looked back to you. he watched the way you casually flicked your hair over your shoulder and how your eyes sparkled as you delivered another punchline that sent the guys around you into another laughter.

it annoyed him sure but more than that, it reminded him of why he fell for you in the first place.

when niki first transferred to the school, he was used to people staring. everyone wanted to know him, talk to him, be close to him. it was almost exhausting how predictable it was... girls blushing when he walked by, guys either trying to be his friend or acting threatened.

then you came.

you like him, just like everyone. you were shy at first but you weren't afraid to flirt with him in your own way.

you had this maddening ability to make him actually feel something, even when you were just teasing him.

one moment, you'd barely meet his eyes, acting like he was just someone you know.

the next, you'd hit him with some sly remark that left him wondering if you actually like him or if you were just messing with him.

and even after you got together, you didn't stop. you flirted with him at every chance, sometimes so casually that he didn't even realize it until later.

it drove him insane, in the best and worst ways.

you didn't know it but you made him need you. you were niki's constant, his balance, someone he always look forward hanging out with, and person who could make him smile even when he didn't want to.

and that’s why it makes him so much angry now.

whenever niki look at them, he saw himself. the way he used to hang on your every word and the way you could light up a room just by being there.

he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as his friend nudged him. "you're staring again."

you were both invited to a small house party. it was alive with music and chatter when you walked in.

some of them greeted you, casually mentioning how good niki looked, unaware of the what had unraveled between you and him. others, who knew, just exchanged awkward glances.

niki was across the room and yeah, he looked good, like always. he was leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup in his hand as he nodded along to whatever one of his friends was saying. then he was approached by a girl right after another.

"niki, are you even listening?" she asked, pouting slightly.

he blinked, realizing she was still talking. "uh, yeah." he said though it was obvious he wasn't.

the girl huffed, crossing her arms. "you know what? never mind." she rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving niki standing there and barely noticing her departure.

niki decided to left the party the moment he saw you talking to another guy again. the rain started to pour hard just when he got outside. he cursed under his breath, pulling his jacket over his head as he jogged down the street.

he spotted a convenience store up ahead and stayed under the shed outside, shaking water off his arms as he muttered to himself about the miserable weather.

after a while, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps splashing through puddles.

you were running towards the convenience store, your arms raised over your head in an attempt to shield yourself from the harsh rain. and when you were about to reach the shed, you saw niki standing there. you froze.

your eyes met and niki gulped. quickly, you turned around and ready to just go back at the party.

niki rolled his eyes, muttering a curse. of course, he wouldn't let you stay out in the rain.

grabbing an umbrella from the corner of the shed, he ran after you. "y/n!" he called, but you didn't stop.

he reached you in a few quick strides, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a stop.

"what?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

"you're gonna get soaked, idiot." he said simply, opening the umbrella and holding it over both of you.

the two of you stood there for a moment, and without waiting for your response, he started walking, his hand still loosely holding your arm.

you followed him. not because you wanted to but because it felt easier than standing in the rain arguing with him.

when you reached the shed, niki released your arm and leaned against the wall, keeping the umbrella angled to shield both of you. you crossed your arms over your chest, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

niki then sat down down on one of the available chairs, his back's facing you.

and it wasn’t long before you felt someone watching you. you glanced up and saw a man who's clearly drunk, swaying slightly as he approached. his bloodshot eyes were fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"hey, there." he said, his words slurred but grinning wide. "what's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?"

you took a small step back, clutching your phone tighter. "i'm fine, thanks." you said, trying to keep your tone polite but firm.

he didn’t take the hint, though. instead, he stumbled closer, shamelessly scanning you up and down. "c'mon, don't be like that." he said, reaching out and grabbing your arm. his grip wasn't harsh but it was enough to make your heart race.

"let go!" you said while trying to pull your arm free but his grip tightened slightly.

niki turned around at the sound of your voice. he stood up immediately, chair scraping against the wet concrete. "back off!"

the drunk guy barely had time to process what was happening before niki shoved him back with enough force to make him stumble. "i said back off or i'll beat the shit out of you."

the drunk guy ran, stumbling away.

you blinked, slightly stunned at niki's sudden aggressiveness.

"you okay?" he asked.

you just nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "ye- yeah, i'm fine. thanks."

niki looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanned you to make sure you were really okay. he exhaled then sat again as he ran a hand through his damp hair. clearly tensed.

he patted at the chair. "can you sit here?"

"no."

niki shook his head and his lips twiched in disbelief.. "yeah, stand there so your legs will ache."

you scoffed. "why do you care?"

"oh, i don't. i really don't." he said. laughing dryly as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

"i shouldn't have stayed here." you muttered but niki heard it.

"then leave." niki said bluntly. you were about to let it go but of course, he just couldn’t stop there. "you're good at that, aren't you?"

you jaw tightens. "oh, don't start with that. you’re the one who-"

"you think this is all my fault again?" niki interrupted you. his tone's sharp as he raised his eyebrows at you.

you exhaled harshly, holding back whatever retort was on the tip of your tongue. niki looked away and you both fell into silence.

you both calmed down and ignored each other. but he's right... you're legs were starting to ache from standing. you glanced over at niki who's comfortably leaning back as he dried himself, you sighed. hesitating but eventually, you sat down beside him.

"when did you start beating people up?" you asked, half-joking just to break the tension.

he looked at you with a serious expression. "few months ago."

your eyes widened as you leaned backwards. "seriously?"

niki gave you a confused look. "no, of course not."

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him. you watched him dry his hair, his damp strands falling messily over his forehead. you look at his face longer than it should have and you quickly bit your lip, letting your thoughts wander too far.

you can't believe you had that face between you legs before-

niki turned to you suddenly, squinting as if he could read your mind. you stuttered. "i- i swear i'm not thinking about anything weird!"

but he knows you too well. you gulped and just looked away.

however, niki did not stop staring. at first, it was just like "this girl..." then suddenly questions ran through his head. wondering when's the last time he heard your laugh, when's the last time you're this close to him...

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your neck. and his hands crawled to your legs, gripping it gently.

"what are you doing?" you asked, caught off guard.

"who told you to wear this short-ass dress?" he whispered.

a small smile formed at your lips despite the ache in your chest. slowly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your fingers brushing against his neck and one hand found its way to his hair, twisting the strands softly between your fingers.

he pulled back just enough to look at you. his eyes started searching yours, desperate and unguarded. then slowly, niki started to lean in.

you leaned too, meeting his lips halfway and his hand gripping your legs harder. niki kissed you like he was making up for lost time, pouring every ounce of his frustrations and longing into each movement.

he groaned softly against your lips. tilting your head gently, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

as his lips pressed harder against yours, your own lips started trembling. the weight of everything... the breakup, the pain... it hit you all at once. tears formed at the edges of your eyes.

you tried to hold them back.

"i miss you so much." niki said between the kisses.

you broke down, a sob escaped your lips and the tears began to fall freely. niki pressed a quick kiss. "why are you crying?" he whispered.

"because!" you choked out, the words catching in your throat.

he smiled. he didn't want to see you cry but somehow, the sight of you crying filled him with relief. to him, it meant that you still care and that you still feel something.

he cupped your face care and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks. he kissed you again and again, very slow as he savored every moment.

niki hugged you, your arms wrapped around his waist as you cried. he gave you multiple kisses on top of your head.

you started touching his body, his chest up to his neck and jaw, everywhere as you rested your head in his chest, "there's no one like you." you said, adding "i was so lucky."

he's just perfect. truly one of one in the world

after hearing those words, niki kissed you again, smiling. "please be my girlfriend again."

you nodded and laughed. "but i think i'll actually kill myself if i lose you one more time." you continued.

niki just smiled again, doesn't matter if you lose him 'cause he'll just always find his way back to you.

you both began walking down the street, still hugging and touching each other as if you couldn't bear to let go. niki’s hand occasionally grabs your arm or he'd wrap an arm around your shoulders or your waist to pull you close.

"you should sleep at my place tonight."

you bit your lip, shaking your head while smiling. "mmhm, i can't."

"why not?" he stopped walking, and turned you to face him.

"because... i might not be able to walk for weeks if i'll go with you." you said with a smirk.

his heart started racing for a second before laughing, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "you're right." he whispered, arms snaked around your waist. "it's gonna be so rough."

you pulled back, your mouth dropping open in shock. "i... i can't believe you just said that."

niki shrugged with a cheeky grin. "hey, when it's you saying things like that, it's fine. but when i say it, it's weird?"

"no... it's not weird." you muttered, looking away with a small smile. "i know you're sexy but you just became even sexier. what the hell?"

niki smirked when he heard your last comment, and before you could take another step, he bent down and scooped you up effortlessly into his arms.

you squealed, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.

"what?" he said with a teasing grin, holding you like you weighed nothing. "your legs are going to hurt anyway. might as well save you the trouble now."

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

161 notes · View notes

crimsonmochi · 3 days ago

Text

Prompt. Full-heartedly believe Choso is the goodest most pathetic boy for his partner ever. And not just when it comes to sex, just everything. He just loves you so much :( I can't prove it, but I can write about it. Smut included.

Choso, who just doesn't know what he would do if you weren't there. I mean, this boy gets lost so easily because of how much he wanders, he has to call you because he gets upset and has zero sense of direction.

"I don't know how to get home."

"Why did you leave?"

"I saw a kitty and I wanted to pet it."

Choso, who pouts, and he pouts a lot. He pouts when he doesn't understand something you're explaining, he pouts when he wants something, and he pouts when he doesn't get what he wants. Will act like you killed his whole family if you don't give him kisses right now.

Choso, who needs to be touching you at all times in some way, or he panics and thinks you don't love him anymore. The first time you gently push his hand away from your waist in public due to being overstimulated at the mall, he nearly has a breakdown going over every single thing he's said and done in the past week.

He told Yuji about it the next day, explaining that he will literally end his life if you leave him and telling him he had to help.

"Just make some sort of big gesture. You should be fine."

Choso decorated your bed with some flower petals the next day, found out he was allergic to pollen, and was sneezing throughout his apology. Apology you didn't know was for, but you forgave him regardless, nursing him back to health in your arms until he didn't have the sniffles from the pollen anymore.

Choso who was a virgin when you met him and remained one for a good part of your relationship, entirely confused when his dick would get hard when you held his hand? Love, why does it do that? It hurts. He couldn't look you in the eye for a bit after you had explained it, embarrassed and flustered.

Choso had to be shown everything bit by bit. He complained when you showed him porn because it's not you, so why would I watch it. Makes no sense.

Choso who, after that session, tried to masturbate, but it wasn't working. He was clumsy with his movements, too needy and eager, and didn't even know what he was supposed to be chasing. Until he thought about you smiling at a joke he made earlier, and before he knew it, he came all over your bedsheets.

Choso tried to hide what happened from you but couldn't lie when you asked why he was hauling your bedsheets into the washing machine on a weekday, meekly trying to put together the situation with words. After explaining, he asked if he needed to go see a doctor.

"That's normal, babe."

"Are you sure? Felt like I got possessed for a moment, maybe we have a ghost."

He couldn't understand why you laughed at that but was thankful for the reassurance that he wasn't dying.

Choso, who begged you to take his virginity a month later, whining about the wet dreams he had been having about you, confused about what it meant, but it had to mean something.

Choso spent an hour just feeling and looking at your body, unsure where to place his hands, where you liked being touched, where you didn't. He spent so much time asking questions, wanting to please and be good for you, that he only remembered how desperate he was when you finally took control, something blooming in his stomach as you gave him orders.

Choso, who discovered he cums fast and from almost nothing. He shuddered when you took his length in your hand, his back arching off the mattress as a soft whimper escaped his lips, shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

Choso, who discovered that going down on you was his favourite thing to do of all time. For a week straight, that's all he wanted to do; he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just stay under him all the time as he feasted. Has orgasms from it, too, completely untouched, just whining and moaning between your legs like a kicked puppy.

Choso, who pouts at you when you don't let him give you head.

Choso, who loves to be called a good boy, lives for it. In and out of the bedroom, it's like you saying "I love you" to him. Honestly has a bad day if you don't say it.

He is your good boy, and you will call him that.

Choso, who refuses to brat out because how can he be your good boy if he acts up. Days are filled with "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," and "right away." If anyone were to witness, they'd think you're running a tight ship military, but it's just your handsome man on his best behaviour as always.

Choso, who never argues. Not because of anything in particular; he's just not wired that way. He listens too well, is in tune with your emotions and his, and adapts fast. He just wants to make your life easier, and if you want the trash taken out at 8:31 instead of 8:30, then he'll be damned if he doesn't make that happen.

Choso, whose personal therapy is laying his head in your lap while you braid a strand or two. He loves the gentle tug on his scalp, loves your fingers in his hair, and loves to look up at you and see how focused you are.

Choso, who needs to feel helpful and wants you to depend on him the same way he depends on you, sometimes goes out of his way to make himself feel indispensable because he likes how it makes him feel. Once stole your schedule only to memorize it and recite it by heart when you mysteriously couldn't find it, the biggest smile on his face when you thanked him.

Choso, who could make out with you for hours on end just to feel your fingers playing with his baby hairs once. Nearly gets off on it.

Choso, who likes to shower with you only for the soap and shampoo part. He likes to be taken care of, your hands on his body as you lather him up properly, his eyes closed and his mind sleepy. Double points if you're taking a bath instead.

Choso, who lays in bed every night with you and tells you he loves you, why, for what traits, for what you give him and what you make of him.

Choso, who could write a whole essay about you, would never be done, could never run out of things to say.

Choso, who just loves you so much, needs you forever, no matter what.

157 notes · View notes

kirammanswifey · 3 days ago

Note

Hii, I read your pt 1 n 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their s/o

Would you be able to hurt us(me) even more? Like they took too long to get us back that R already move on with someone better

Pretty pretty please🥺?

what if you never reconciled with arcane's characters after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i loved the person who asked me to do this because i had thought about doing it but i didn't know if you guys wanted to read more of this but i guess we'll are masochist. so i ended up depressed after writing this, and that's saying a lot for a psychology student, the one i found the saddest and the hardest to write was jinx's, i love writing sad things but it's already too much suffering, later I'll come up with something lighter and nicer. as you guys know, requests are open ;)

break up link:

reconciliation link:

Viktor

The auditorium filled with applause as you finished your presentation. The project you had worked tirelessly on was finally being recognized. You felt proud, but also empty, as if something important was missing. As you looked up, you saw him. Viktor, at the back of the room, trying to go unnoticed, almost ready to leave.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him. It had been two months since the breakup, two months of complete silence. Without thinking, you called his name. "Viktor."

He stopped, turning slowly toward you. The auditorium's light accentuated the paleness of his face, his sunken eyes, and his thin body seemed even more fragile. Concern washed over you instantly, but you held back the urge to approach and ask what was happening to him.

"How are you? How have things been going?" you managed to say, though your voice trembled slightly, betraying the calm you were trying to project.

"Fine." His response was cold, distant, almost mechanical. "The lab is progressing. The projects are going as expected."

Each word of his was a dagger, his formality making you feel like a stranger, as if you had never been part of his life. The lump in your throat grew, but you forced yourself to continue. You couldn't leave things like this.

"Why didn’t you reach out, Viktor? Do you still feel the same?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, fearing the answer but needing to hear it.

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before responding. "Yes, I still feel the same. What I’m doing is bigger than us. I can't afford distractions."

His voice was firm, but you could sense the slight hesitation, the pain he was trying to hide. Despite that, it hurt more than you expected. You nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable, though it broke your heart.

"Thank you for coming," you said coldly, matching the distance he had put between you. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me."

You turned around, ready to leave before the tears betrayed your façade. But as you walked away, you felt his eyes on you, almost as if he was waiting for something more, something you weren’t willing to give.

Viktor stood there, motionless, internally conflicted. In his mind, every memory with you fought against his convictions. He wanted to approach, to risk a second chance, to ask you to come back. The thought of losing you forever was suffocating him, but he also feared that his illness, his obsession with science, was too much for you to bear.

Finally, he decided to take that step, to approach you, to break the barrier he had built himself. But by the time he gathered the courage, it was too late. You had been intercepted by a colleague, a man who radiated health and vitality, someone who made you smile in a way Viktor couldn’t remember seeing for a long time.

From afar, Viktor watched, his heart breaking as he saw how the man made you laugh, how he looked at you with admiration. In that moment, he understood something he had always feared: you deserved someone better than him, someone who could be completely with you without the chains of science and illness.

He decided to leave, convinced that intervening would only cause you more pain. He didn’t know that as he walked away, you were watching him from afar, with a broken heart, wishing he had fought for you, even just a little more.

Jinx

Days passed after that heartbreaking farewell. The memories piled up in your mind, like broken pieces of a puzzle you could never put back together. Jinx's absence was a crushing weight, leaving you breathless, powerless. Her laughter, her mischief, her uncontrollable chaos... all had disappeared, and in their place, only an unbearable void remained.

One afternoon, as the rain furiously pounded against the windows and the sky was draped in gray, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew exactly where to find her. On somber days, Jinx always sought refuge at the cliff, a place where the world seemed to end and the abyss opened before her like an invitation.

You ran through the rain, feeling each drop like needles on your skin, every step filled with a desperation that was suffocating you. When you reached the cliff, your heart stopped. Jinx wasn’t sitting, as she usually did, lost in her thoughts. She was standing, at the edge of the abyss, her slender figure barely visible in the mist.

But before you could take another step, she jumped.

The scream that tore from your throat was heart-wrenching, an echo lost in the wind. You ran to the edge, but what you saw below froze your blood. Jinx lay on the rocks, her body shattered by the fall, motionless, lifeless. The sight left you petrified, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The days that followed were torment. Guilt consumed you. What if you had arrived earlier? What if you had said something different? What if you had hugged her tighter? The questions haunted you, whispering in your ear that it was all your fault, that you hadn’t done enough to save her.

You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep. You just returned to that cliff over and over again, hoping to find answers in the void Jinx had left. But all you found was more silence, more loneliness.

One night, when the moon barely peeked through the clouds, the weight became unbearable. You couldn’t go on without her. You decided it was time to join Jinx, to follow her steps into the abyss. You walked to the edge, feeling the cold wind on your skin, and looked down at the place where your love had met its end.

Then, a vision stopped you. Jinx appeared before you, but not like the last time. She was smiling, her gaze sweet and mischievous, like when she used to laugh at your jokes or drag you into her chaotic adventures. "Don't be sad, sugar," she whispered. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

Her words, though you knew they were just a hallucination, filled you with a strange comfort. You smiled, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'm going to be with you," you promised her. And without thinking further, you leapt into the abyss, letting the darkness take you, driven by the desire to be with Jinx once more.

Upon impact, everything became silence. But in that silence, there was something more. A whisper, an echo of eternal love.

In every universe, in every possible existence, you two would always be together. Even in death, even in the void. Because your love was that strong, that eternal.

Vi had spent two years engulfed in a darkness she couldn’t escape. After you left her, everything became a whirlwind of underground fights and empty bottles. Each punch she took, each night spent alone in the darkest corners of Zaun, made her think of you, of what she had lost. In her mind, she was always sure you would come back for her, that your love for her would be strong enough to forgive her. But days turned into weeks, then into months, and eventually, years. And you never came back.

One day, a job brought her to Piltover. A corrupt politician had paid her to "teach a lesson" to someone who owed him money. The money was enough for Vi to accept without asking questions. She was walking through the gleaming streets of the city when her body collided with someone else's.

“Sorry,” she said automatically, but when she looked up, she was left breathless. It was you. More radiant than ever, with a presence that seemed to light up even the cold stone of Piltover. Vi couldn’t help herself, she hugged you tightly as if her life depended on it. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into your hair. But her world stopped when she didn’t feel your arms returning the embrace. Instead, your body was stiff, distant.

You gently pulled away, but your gaze was like a dagger. “What’s wrong?” Vi asked, her voice trembling with confusion and the pain now flooding her. “Why are you treating me like this?”

Your expression hardened, and your words were cold, sharp as steel. “Do you really expect me to welcome you with open arms after what you did? After what you said?” Your eyes burned with a fire Vi didn’t recognize, a fire from someone who had suffered and changed. “You left me, Violet. You said things that broke me. And now, after two years, you expect me to greet you like nothing happened?”

Vi tried to respond, but the words died in her throat. There weren’t enough excuses to explain what she had done.

You continued, not giving her a moment to breathe. “Things changed when you left, Violet.” You raised your hand, showing a ring that gleamed under the sunlight. “My parents married me off to someone from the Council. At first, I thought it would be the end of the world, that I’d never get over it. But now… now I’m happy.” You paused, letting your words sink into Vi like a slow-acting poison. “I have a family. I have stability. And I’m happy. With you, Violet, I would never have had that.”

Vi looked at you, unsure of what to do, what to say. In her mind, you were still the person who loved her, but now, standing before her, you had transformed into someone completely different.

At that moment, a man approached. Tall, in his thirties, with a well-groomed beard, and in his arms, a small child with a smile Vi instantly recognized as yours. The man kissed you on the cheek and then handed you the child. Your face lit up with love as you held him.

“Sweetheart, did you find what you were looking for?” the man asked, glancing at Vi with curiosity. “Is she a friend of yours?”

Vi felt like the ground crumbled beneath her feet. You looked back at her, but now, your eyes were just cold reflections of the past. “No,” you said with a tone that cut Vi to the core. “Just someone I used to know.”

Without another word, you turned away, the man beside you, the child in your arms, and the three of you walked off, a perfect picture of the happiness Vi had always dreamed of but could never achieve.

Vi stood there, motionless, in the middle of the street, as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Her entire world crumbled in that instant. Everything she had believed, everything she had hoped for, was gone. And now she knew she would live with regret for the rest of her life.

Caitlyn

The trial was a brutal display of coldness. You stood there, in the center, surrounded by the faces of Piltover who had once respected you. But now, you were nothing more than a traitor to them. Your hands were cuffed behind your back, your gaze fixed on Caitlyn, waiting... begging for her to say something, to defend you, to plead on your behalf. But she remained silent, rigid, her expression unyielding. The façade of the perfect enforcer intact, as you crumbled.

As you left the court, the cold air hit you harder than the judges' words. Caitlyn approached the guards, requesting to personally escort you to the edge of exile. Your eyes met hers, seeking answers, some sign that there was still something between you.

"Why?" you whispered, your voice breaking.

Caitlyn looked at you, her face colder than ever. "I did what I had to do," she said with a hardness that made you shiver. "If you had done the same, you wouldn't be in this situation."

There were no more words. No goodbyes. Just a chasm that opened between you, killing everything that had ever existed.

A year later, Piltover was burning in chaos. Zaun's gangsters had unleashed a revolt, and Caitlyn, always the leader, was on the front lines. The battle roared around her, but she didn't see the attacker coming until it was too late. The blade of a knife gleamed in the air, aimed at her, until a precise shot stopped the assailant.

Caitlyn turned, her rifle pointed at her supposed savior. "Back off," she ordered firmly, though her heart was racing.

The figure in front of her removed the owl mask, revealing a face that took her breath away.

"You're still an exceptional shooter, Cait," you said with a sad smile, your voice laden with painful nostalgia.

The chaos had ceased, the silence weighed between you. Caitlyn didn't understand how everything had ended so quickly, how her men had been immobilized. Her eyes filled with questions, and you, with a flash of understanding, gave her the answer before she could formulate it.

"It was us."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

You laughed, a sound that carried both sadness and resignation. "I'm part of the Firelights. We heard about the revolt and came to the rescue. We don't want more trouble between Piltover and Zaun, so we stopped it to avoid reprisals."

Caitlyn's eyes widened, recognizing the rebel group that had caused so many headaches for the Enforcers.

"They took me in when I was exiled to Zaun," you continued with a touch of sadness. "They're my family now."

Caitlyn stepped forward, regret etching her face. "I... I missed you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I regret not defending you."

But before she could say more, a figure riding a hoverboard approached. Wearing a mask similar to yours, his dark skin and white hair gave him away: Ekko, the leader of the Firelights.

"All clear. Let's go, babe," he said, extending a hand to you. Then, he cast a sarcastic glance at Caitlyn. "Looks like the Enforcers don't know how to do their job anymore."

Caitlyn opened her mouth to protest, but you playfully smacked Ekko on the head. "Don't be cheeky," you chided, but the boy just smiled and kissed you tenderly.

Caitlyn froze, watching the scene with disbelief and pain. Seeing the love of her life with someone else was an agony she wasn't prepared to face.

You climbed onto the board with Ekko, but before leaving, you turned to Caitlyn. "I hope you can find happiness someday, Cait," you said softly, your words a reminder that sometimes justice isn't enough to fill the void in the soul.

And with that, you vanished into the air, laughing with Ekko, leaving Caitlyn alone, shattered. She stood there, staring at the spot where you'd disappeared, the regret devouring her inside. But she didn't allow herself to feel more. She had a mess to clean up and a report to deliver. There was no room for pain now, and that would always be her greatest flaw.

Jayce

It had been five months since the last time you saw Jayce, five months since that painful goodbye that had left your heart in pieces. But you didn't allow yourself to stay in that state. You channeled your pain into ambition, into a fierce determination to prove your worth beyond being "Jayce Talis' partner." You joined the world of politics, and against all odds, you managed to gain acceptance into the Council of Piltover.

The news of your rise had spread to every corner of the city, but Jayce, absorbed in his work with Hextech technology and his duties as a Council member, hadn't noticed your progress until that day.

The first Council meeting with your presence was a revelation. All the members praised you, impressed by your intellect and the innovative plans you had proposed for the city. But Jayce heard none of that. His attention was completely captured by you.

You looked different. Your hair, which you used to wear long and dark, was now short and dyed a vibrant coral red. The clothes you wore were more revealing, showing a confidence in yourself he had never seen before. It was as if you were a completely new person, someone who no longer depended on anyone's shadow.

When the meeting ended, Jayce approached you with his characteristic smile, the one that used to melt your heart. "I didn’t expect to see you here," he said with a mix of surprise and admiration. "It seems a lot has changed."

You returned his smile, but there was a touch of disdain in your eyes. "Yes, many things changed in my life when you left, Jayce. Everything got better," you said firmly. "I focused on my career and made a name for myself in Piltover for my skills and intelligence. I'm no longer recognized as Jayce Talis' partner. I'm no longer the pretty doll you used to take to those fancy parties."

Jayce frowned, his expression turning serious. "I never treated you like an object," he replied defensively. "That was always a misunderstanding. I just took care of you and gave you everything you wanted."

You shook your head slowly, your gaze steady on his. "No, Jayce. You clipped my wings. You didn’t let me be who I really am. And I'm so happy you left me because now I’m enjoying life, and I love who I am."

Jayce opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him. "There's talk that you have a relationship with Mel Medarda."

The surprise on his face was evident, but he quickly denied it, his tone defensive. "Of course not. We're just partners."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "More like master and slave. It’s pathetic to see how you let yourself be influenced and manipulated by someone else. The Jayce I knew, the one I once loved, would never have allowed that."

Jayce barely heard the reproach. His attention was caught by your words. "You don't love me anymore?" he asked, his voice hurt and low.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting his with brutal sincerity. "No, Jayce. I don’t. I’ve moved on from you."

Jayce was left speechless, the emotional blow visible on his face. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy for you to forget him, especially when he hadn’t forgotten you.

Before you left, you stepped a little closer, your voice soft but firm. "And you know what the best part is, Jayce? I didn’t need to hook up with anyone else to do it. I got over you when I learned to focus on myself and my needs. You should do the same."

Without waiting for a response, you turned around and walked away, leaving Jayce there, paralyzed by the weight of your words. It was as if you had slapped him, leaving him breathless, not knowing how to recover from that loss. Because you would be a loss that would hurt him for the rest of his life.

Ekko

Months have passed since that last conversation that ended your relationship. Since then, Zaun has changed, and so have you. You've learned to live without Ekko, though the void he left still hurts. Fate, however, seems determined to cross your paths again. And it is on a rainy night, in an alley you used to walk together, that you meet once more.

Ekko is there, under the dim light of a streetlamp, his silhouette wet from the rain but heavier with guilt. He sees you approach, and something inside him breaks. Time hasn't healed his wounds, only made them deeper.

"I didn’t think I’d see you here again," he murmurs, his voice almost inaudible beneath the sound of the rain.

Your heart races at the sight of him, but you stay firm. "I didn’t think I’d see you again either."

Ekko's eyes scan you, searching for something to give him strength to speak. "How have you been?" he asks, knowing that any answer will be insufficient for the pain he caused.

"I managed," you reply coldly. "And you? Doesn’t Zaun need you anymore?"

Ekko lowers his gaze, ashamed. "Zaun will always need me, but... I've been thinking a lot about us. About what I did, about what I said."

"And have you reached any conclusions?" you ask, keeping your tone distant.

"That I was wrong," he admits, his voice breaking. "That each day without you weighs more on me. That I let you go out of fear, out of responsibility... but I never stopped loving you."

His confession hits you, but it’s not enough to erase the pain. "Ekko, you made your choice. You chose Zaun over us."

"I know," he says, taking a step closer but not daring to move further. "And I regret it. If I could go back, I would. But I can’t. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, that I miss you... that every day I regret more what I lost."

Silence takes over the moment. The rain continues to fall, cold and relentless, like the fate you both share. You look at Ekko, and for a moment, the love you still feel battles against the resentment.

"Ekko, love isn’t enough when it becomes a burden. I can’t go back to that, I can’t be your second place again," you say, trying to maintain your composure.

"I know," he replies, his voice barely a whisper. "But I wanted you to know that I’ll always love you. Even if I can’t fix it, even if I can’t win you back, you’ll always be a part of me."

"And you of me," you admit, finally letting the tears you’ve held back fall. "But it’s too late, Ekko. Too late for us."

Reality sets in, and both of you know it. Without words, you look at each other one last time, each trying to engrave that moment in memory. Finally, you turn away, leaving Ekko alone, with the rain as his only company.

As you walk away, something inside you stops you, as if there are still words left to say. You turn slowly, facing Ekko once more, with the rain falling between you like a curtain of memories and pain.

"Do you remember what you told me the last time we talked?" you ask, your voice trembling but firm. "You said that sometimes there are battles not worth fighting because you know you’ll never win them."

Ekko nods, the weight of his own words reflected in his tired eyes. "Yes, I remember. And I regret saying it."

"Don’t regret it," you say, a bitter smile forming on your lips. "Because you were right. This... us... we were one of those battles. I fought for you, for us, but in the end, we couldn’t win. We couldn’t be what we needed for each other."

Ekko closes his eyes, the pain in his chest intensifying. "I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted you to lose faith in us."

"Faith wasn’t enough," you reply, your words cutting like a knife. "Not when the battle was lost from the start."

Silence takes over once more, each word a reminder of what was and will never be. Finally, you step back, moving away from Ekko and everything he represents.

"Goodbye, Ekko," you whisper, letting the rain wash away the last tears falling down your cheeks.

Ekko watches you leave, knowing those words will be the last you share. And as you disappear into the distance, his own regret consumes him, leaving him alone with the weight of a battle he should never have abandoned.

Silco

The lights flickered weakly in the brothel of the Undercity, as voices mingled with the clamor of incessant activity. Silco moved through the shadows, his presence as imposing as ever, closing a deal with one of his associates. Everything was going according to plan until his gaze stopped in a dark corner, and he saw you.

You were there, your makeup smeared, and your provocative clothing accentuating the marks of injuries that covered your skin. Silco felt a dry blow in his chest, a combination of anger and suffocating guilt. He couldn’t help but approach you, his hand gripping your arm firmly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a harsh voice, each word laden with tension he couldn’t hide.

You looked up, your eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and latent hatred, but a bitter smile formed on your lips. "I'm exactly where I should be, Silco. I should never have left this place in the first place."

Silco narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening even more. "Don’t give me evasions. I want the truth."

You sighed deeply, letting the facade fall. Your eyes locked onto his, this time without a trace of the smile. "You want the truth? Very well." Your voice was a whisper laced with pain. "When you decided to abandon me, many started hunting me. I survived some attacks, others I didn’t." Slowly, you brushed your hair aside, revealing the patch over your left eye. "They tore it out. And, like everything in this damn place, they sold it to the highest bidder. Some found it exciting to have the eye of Silco's former 'bitch.'"

The rawness of your words left him immobile. The trauma soaked every syllable, and the guilt Silco felt grew like an oppressive shadow. "I had no one to protect me, no place to go. This brothel was my last refuge. So here I am, back in the only place I should never have left. And surprisingly, I'm doing well. You’d be surprised at what they're willing to pay for an encounter with what once belonged to you."

Silco couldn’t bear the self-degradation in your voice. "I’m going to get you out of here," he said firmly. "I’ll pay whatever it takes and bring you back home."

He leaned in to hug you, but you pushed him away with a scornful gesture. "What’s the matter, Silco? Tired of your new acquisition already? Miss having me under your control, like your personal trophy?" Your voice was lethal poison. "Keep your promises. I’m not going back with you. You taught me that love is an illusion, a mirage that only serves to mask hatred and danger. And sadly, I’m surrounded by both."

Silco swallowed, his facade beginning to crack. "Please," he insisted, his voice tinged with an unusual tremor. "Let me fix this. Let me help you."

But you had already walked away, heading toward an exotic-looking man waiting for you in a corner. "If you’ll excuse me, I have to work."

Without giving him another glance, you left, leaving Silco alone, trapped in a whirlwind of regret and pain. In his attempt to protect you, it was he who had condemned you to this life, and now the weight of his decisions crushed him, plunging him into a darkness even he could not master.

Mel

It was an ordinary day when, upon opening your front door, you found Mel standing there, her eyes red from crying, her face filled with a despair so profound it moved you. Her posture, hunched and fragile, spoke more than any words could. Before you could say anything, she threw herself at you, seeking comfort as if her entire world had collapsed in an instant.

Words tumbled from her mouth in a rush, like a torrent of repressed emotions finally finding an outlet. "I’ve done it... I’ve done everything wrong... I don’t want to lose you. I can’t... please, don’t leave me. I need us to be together again. I can’t live with this lie. I love you, I love you, I’m begging you."

You held her in your arms, feeling her trembling body against yours, a refuge against the internal storm consuming her. You clung to her, hoping that all that had been broken between you could be repaired, but then, an unfamiliar voice interrupted the stillness of that moment.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a familiar female voice, with a tone that shook you. Caitlyn Kiramman appeared in the doorway, her hair disheveled, wearing a white shirt, almost translucent, that Mel recognized instantly. A shiver ran through her as she saw that the shirt belonged to you. Caitlyn smiled, somewhat awkwardly, but serene. "I’ll wait for you in the room," she said calmly before retreating into the house.

Mel, paralyzed, looked at you in disbelief, her anger beginning to awaken. "Seriously?" Her voice broke with disdain, but there was a contained fury in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore. "Caitlyn Kiramman? You couldn’t find a better replacement for me? Seriously?"

You stared at her for a moment before responding with a calmness that only masked the truth behind your words. "No, Mel, I’m not looking for replacements. Caitlyn isn’t here to fill any voids; she’s here for a good time. And let me tell you, she’s done an excellent job at that."

Mel clenched her fists, her face turning red with rage, frustration taking over her. "How could you? Did you cheat on me? With her? After everything we’ve been through?" Her words were sharp, like knives, and her pain became more evident with each passing second.

You remained serene, though something inside you was breaking. "What did you want me to do, Mel? Sit in a corner, crying in a bubble of self-pity, like you probably did all this time? No, Mel, I couldn’t just sit and wait for something to change. Life is too short to keep waiting for the impossible."

Mel’s words came out as a sigh of disappointment. "I’m so disappointed in you," she said, her voice trembling from the impact of your words.

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest. "What we were living wasn’t real, Mel. It wasn’t enough for you, and it wasn’t enough for me either. You’ve been living in your mother’s shadow this whole time, looking for something you’ll never find. I can’t keep waiting for you to understand that. You got stuck in your world, and in the meantime, I moved on. I’m not going to apologize for that."

Mel, in tears, tried to get closer, a desperate attempt to capture what was already gone. She tried to kiss you, but you stopped her with unyielding firmness. "Mel," you said with a clear, firm voice. "Don’t do this. Don’t do this to yourself."

She fell to her knees, her face overflowing with pain. "I beg you... please, come back to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve had in my life. I need you, I can’t live without you." Her sobs were heart-wrenching, like a child lost in a cruel world.

You looked at her for a long moment, your heart heavy, but the words that came from your lips were inevitable. "And why didn’t you take care of me, Mel? Why did you let me go so easily? If you really loved me, why did you abandon me? Why did you let me face all of this alone?"

Mel didn’t know what to say. She stayed there, her mouth open, unable to offer any justification. She only murmured one last "I love you" in an almost inaudible whisper.

You sighed deeply, the weight of reality crushing you, and you gently lifted her from the ground, guiding her to the door. "Goodbye, Mel. I hope you can sort things out with your mother. I can’t keep being part of this battle."

The door closed with a dull thud, and it wasn’t just the door to your house that was closing, but also the door to your heart. There was nothing more to do. It was time to let go.

Sevika

The night was shrouded in a dense mist, and the bar buzzed with a mix of laughter, muffled conversations, and the clinking of glasses filled with liquid oblivion. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of tobacco, spilled alcohol, and sweat—a temporary refuge for broken souls. Sevika pushed the bar door open, stumbling slightly, her unsteady steps reflecting the state of her soul. Her dark, glassy eyes scanned the place with a mix of desperation and anxiety, seeking to drown the loneliness that pursued her like a relentless shadow.

When her eyes landed on the bar, her heart stopped for a moment that seemed eternal. There you were, behind the counter, moving with the professional grace of someone who had learned to hide pain behind a mask of indifference. Sevika felt the ground beneath her feet grow unstable, as if the earth itself was rebelling against her presence. She approached slowly, as if each step brought her closer to an abyss she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

When she reached the bar, she leaned on the counter with both hands, leaning toward you. Your gaze was a mix of surprise and something colder, something that made her shiver more than any strong drink.

"What do you want to drink?" you asked in a professional, restrained voice, your eyes barely shifting in her direction.

Sevika looked at you, desperately searching for any trace of the warmth you used to have. "I’ve missed you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper before a knot in her throat broke it. "I’m sorry... God, I’m so sorry for how things ended between us."

She took your hands with unusual clumsiness, kissing them repeatedly as her words fell like broken laments. "I’ve been alone, so alone that I looked for others to forget you, but it didn’t work. No one can make me forget you. Please, give me another chance."

You sighed, and with a calculated gesture, called another colleague to replace you, leading her outside to the back alley. You lit a cigarette calmly, offering her one that she accepted in silence. Both of you smoked, the smoke forming an almost tangible barrier between you.

The silence was finally broken by a question that escaped as a rough whisper from her lips: "Why aren’t you saying anything?"

You finished smoking, dropping the cigarette and crushing it underfoot before facing her directly. "What do you want me to say, Sevika?" Your voice was low, but each word was a dart piercing Sevika's chest.

She frowned, surprised by the coldness in your tone. "I don’t know, something. Something that doesn’t make me feel like a fool."

"Why do you feel like a fool?" you asked, crossing your arms, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Sevika gritted her teeth, her fury beginning to bubble just beneath the surface. "Because I confessed my feelings to you, told you everything I went through, and it seems like you don’t give a damn."

You nodded, as if slowly processing her words before responding with icy calm. "And did you care when you left me? Did you think about how your decision would affect me? Did you think about anyone other than yourself?"

Her words caught in her throat, and for the first time, Sevika didn’t know what to say. Your smile was bitter, triumphant. "Of course not. You’re a selfish person, Sevika. You walked in here by chance, and upon seeing me, suddenly you miss me and want everything back. Well, I’m not buying that crap."

"It’s not like that," she denied desperately. "I miss you, really. I care about you."

Your frown deepened, and you shook your head. "It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You made your decision, and you have no right to ask me for anything after what you did to me."

Sevika tried to interrupt, but you cut her off sharply. "My break is over. Don’t drink anymore tonight. You’re talking nonsense." And with that, you went back inside, leaving her there, alone in the darkness.

Sevika stayed in the alley, staring at the door that closed behind you, while rage and sadness fused into a silent scream. She punched the wall hard, letting the physical pain try to drown out the torment she felt inside. But deep down, she knew that punch wasn’t enough to erase what she had lost, nor to heal what she had destroyed.

320 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 2 days ago

Text

The Heart Of The Woods

Hi my loves! I wanted to give you guys a peek into our grumpy mountain manrry! He’s different to some that I’ve written before but I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance

Read the series ( 9 parts ongoing) and 220+ exclusive writings on our Patreon!

WC- 1.4k

Warnings- tiny bit of rejection, asshole h

He hadn’t been sure what he was thinking.

Hiring a housekeeper had not been on his agenda, but it put his mum at ease. Being far from her, up in his large cabin in the middle of the mountain, she had said she worried a lot about not only his well being, but about him overworking himself. His days started early, working on splitting wood, emails, driving down to deliver it, and all of that. His group of employees that worked on the lot not too far from his own place up the mountain were his main source of socialization and even they knew not to bug him too much.

Harry preferred to be left alone.

So why hire a housekeeper? It sounded okay at the time. Someone to keep the fire stoked and the house warm so he could come home and not have the house be cold for him and his animals, someone to cook and clean and… another body in the house. Make it less lonely. Maple was a good companion, Ash was too, but a dog and a cat didn’t replace human connection. Perhaps that’s why he had found himself feeling more irritated lately.

Watching the car pull in, he had to wonder how she could fit her belongings into such a small vehicle. Weren't women supposed to have a lot of stuff? The question was answered as she stepped out of the car, light wash jeans clinging to her thighs and pink sweater hanging on her form as she waved up to him. "Hi!" she grinned a tad bit too brightly for his comfort, jogging up to the wraparound porch. "I’m so sorry l'm a little late. I got lost at the turn- the split in the road? and I didn't have good service to call and let you know. I usually try and do that.”

She was rambling.

He grumbled, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Late's fine. I didn’t have any plans today, just don’t make a habit of it.” Glancing at her car, then back at her, he gave her a little bit of a look. “You got everything you need?” He wasn’t the best at socializing, famously, but she wasn’t aware of that yet considering their talk had mainly consisted of emails. It would be something she quickly found out.

“Oh!” Her chuckle was nervous as the man stood tall above her on the wooden porch, making her look up a bit at him. “Uh, yeah. I.. I kinda had to get out of my place in a hurry, so this worked out.” She smiled up at him before looking back to her car. “Did you want me to grab my stuff now or did you want me to do it after you give me the run down of what you want me to do?”

He sighed, stepping aside to let her pass. “Follow me.” He led her inside, shutting the door behind her. It was weird feeling someone else in his space. It had been a long time since he’d heard footsteps other than his own or his pets in the hall, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet. Leading her down the wooden hall, he brought her towards the main part of the house- a large step down living room he mentally referred to as the den. The stone fireplace was lit with the fire going already as he gestured to a chair by it. “Sit.”

Y/N was distracted a little by the skylight- and then the view outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole place was. She had slightly underestimated it despite the size of the place when she had applied to work eyes but she would make it work. At least the view was great. She could see that there was a deck outside, the view of the mountains sprawling behind them sort of blowing her away. The awe only lasted a few moments though, when she heard him clear his throat. Oops. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously. “The view distracted me. You’ve got a beautiful home.”

He grunted, not really used to compliments. Small talk wasn’t his thing. He sat down in his recliner, stretching his legs out in front of him before resting his hands on his knees. “So, as your employer, I expect you t’keep this place clean. Cook meals, do laundry, that sort of thing.” He paused, looking at her critically. “M’not home most of the day, and when I am I’m usually in my workshop. It’s the building out to the side that you saw.” He clasped his hands together. “We don’t need to have a ton of interaction. I need you to keep the fire stoked, maybe feed Ash for me if I get back late. I don’t have a lot of rules, but I ask you to respect my space.”

“Uh, alright.” She nodded, taking out her phone to take notes. “I figured the normal house stuff. I…” Her body felt the cringe as she went to ask it. “I haven’t really stoked a fire longer than it’s taken to do a bonfire while camping so, if there’s some sort of magic you know to keep it going longer I’d love to know it.” The girl didn’t want to fuck it up. The man worked with wood. The last thing she wanted to do was waste it.

It did make her a little unsettled to hear the other part, though. “Um, and what do you mean exactly by not needing to interact? Like, you don’t want to see or hear from me?”

Harry paused, his gaze sharpening a little on the girl. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He didn’t want to come home to some sort of chatty roommate. “I mean exactly that.” He said gruffly.

“Oh.” She replied quietly, swallowing the lump on her throat. Her gaze averted when his sharpened on hers, looking towards her lap. He was a little intimidating and she felt embarrassed for some reason- but logically she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t mean her body knew that, though.

“O-Okay. I’ll make sure to give you your space.” Her head nodded, convincing herself it would be good for her. Maybe akin to rejection therapy. She had hoped for something a little different, but this was the escape she had needed- she couldn’t complain. “Can you tell me what kind of foods you like, or don’t, so I can make what you’ll eat?”

Harry grunted, his expression relaxing slightly at the mention of food. He hated being bothered with small talk, but food was something he could appreciate- it was part of her job, anyways. He could talk abojt that. “I like meat and potatoes. Steak, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Don’t bother with fancy shit. Just straightforward, hearty food.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. “And coffee. Black coffee. None of that fancy latte crap. Just straight up coffee.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “That’s all you need to know for now. You can start preparing dinner and I’ll be back later.”

“Oh! I… are you sure?” She stood up too, following him. “Where should I put my things?” Part of her felt a little nervous she had fucked up with how fast he seemed to want to get out of there, but she didn’t know what she could have done to offend him. Was this just the way he was? Probably. She shouldn’t take it personally- but part of her did, just a bit. “I don’t know which room I should set my things up in.”

Harry turned around, his expression still stern. “You can set up in the spare room down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.” He pointed down the hallway before continuing. “I don’t need any help with my things. Just worry about your own shit for now.”

Her eyes fell down towards the floor, nodding at his words. It must just be the way he was, she concluded. He didn’t bother saying goodbye as she heard the door close, the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the den the only sound until the start of his pickup was muffled outside.

Who the hell was this man? And what had she gotten herself into?

150 notes · View notes

yellowfics · 1 day ago

Text

“can i leave a kiss on your soft lips, baby?”

it was one of those days. the kind of day where bakugo katsuki found himself in an internal battle, silently questioning what the hell it was about you that had him so damn hooked.

it reminded him of the time his mom used to go on about how she fell in love with his old man, telling that whole corny love story. he thought it was stupid back then, but now, here he was, going through the same damn thing with you.

you weren’t doing anything special, and you hadn’t changed a damn thing about how you looked—you were just you. the way you carried yourself, the way your laugh filled the room as you scrolled through your phone, probably watching some dumb tiktok. and that laugh, all carefree and unaware, drove him crazy. you had no idea how much it was getting to him. hell, he loved every little thing about you, even if it pissed him off sometimes.

katsuki stood by the counter, arms crossed, crimson eyes trained on you. he told himself he wasn’t staring; he was observing. watching. noticing every damn detail about you.

why the hell do you have to look so good doing nothing? he thought, scowling as he clenched his jaw.

it annoyed him to no end. not you—no, never you—but the fact that he couldn’t stop feeling this way. the worst part was you weren’t even trying to be attractive; you just were. the kind of attractiveness that made him feel vulnerable, and katsuki bakugo didn’t do vulnerable.

when you glanced up from your phone and caught his glare, you raised an eyebrow. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“like what?” he snapped, quickly averting his gaze and biting the inside of his cheek.

“like i just insulted your cooking or something.” you tilted your head, amused.

“damn it,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring your teasing.

you set your phone down, curiosity piqued. “what’s up with you?”

he didn’t answer immediately. his gaze flicked back to you, and it hit him again. that look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the way you stood there like you weren’t making his heart pound out of his chest. katsuki ran a hand through his spiky blond hair, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he closed the distance between you.

when he was close enough, he reached out, his calloused hand cupping your face. his thumb brushed over your cheek, rough but surprisingly gentle. you blinked up at him, caught off guard.

“katsuki?” your voice was soft, questioning his actions.

he didn’t answer right away, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. for a moment, his usual scowl softened, something unspoken passing between you. then, in a voice low and steady, he said,

“can i leave a kiss on your soft lips, baby?”

your breath hitched, and your lips parted in surprise. a shy smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you nodded.

the corners of his lips twitched into a small smirk before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. the kiss was slow and filled with a raw intensity that made your heart race. katsuki wasn’t often tender—he didn’t think he needed to be—but when he was, it was like the world melted away, leaving only the two of you.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours.

“you drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “hate how much i love you sometimes.”

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “i love you too, katsuki.”

#might be ooc #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #mha x you #mha bakugou #reqs open

155 notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 3 days ago

Note

What do you think Quinn would do for a grand gesture when he was missing his girl?

seeing as he’s a sentimental sort, considering the gift he gave luke, i know he’d do something so over the top in the best way.

he’d already have bought you every long distance gadget in existence. the bracelets that vibrate when you touch them to let the other person know you’re thinking of them. the smart fridge he can leave notes from his phone on for you to wake up to in the morning. the lamp that glows a certain color when the other person misses you. the iphone widget he can draw pictures of flowers on before the real thing is delivered to your door.

he’d make sure he had every opportunity to make sure you knew he was thinking about you, even when he’s busy and on the road. sometimes a message or a vibration from a bracelet is all he had time for, but it was enough for you.

for him? nothing could ever replace being in your presence. he needed to see you, touch you, hear your voice. this past season had been rough. being away from you for so long, he was miserable. he found himself being distracted by thoughts of when he could get back home to you during practice or while warming up for a game. he was rushing post game media so he could call you before you fell asleep. he was skipping team bonding to facetime you and catch up on your day.

so, he started putting a plan into motion. he hoped it wouldn’t scare you off or freak you out, but he was too deep into it now to back out.

you had noticed he’d been spending a lot of time on the phone with his agent lately, assuming it was some negotiation for a brand or sponsorship. you knew it couldn’t have anything to do with his spot on the canucks, both the team and quinn loving the other too much to part ways.

but he started acting weird. he started being jumpy when you’d ask him about his conversations with his agent, curious as to what’s taking up so much of his time lately.

“just contract stuff. you know, i have to renew it soon and there’s all kinds of stuff that goes into that. brad’s just trying to get me the best bang for my buck,” he’d nervously chuckle, changing the subject quickly.

you were cleaning up the kitchen one day after making lunch, quinn having had to go to the rink for some kind of business meeting, he told you. you hear the door open and his keys fall into the bowl on the dining room table, a soft call of your name ringing through the space.

he walks into the kitchen to find you finishing up the last few dishes, making small talk until you’re finished and join him over at the end of the long island.

“whatcha got there, q?” you question curiously, noticing how he hasn’t let go of the paper once since walking through the door.

“oh, this? well, we need to talk about it, actually.” his nervous tone makes you nervous, worried about what’s on the piece of official looking paper.

“okay…” you trail off, not enjoying the nervous energy engulfing the room.

he clears his throat, running his fingers along the edges of the paper repeatedly, forcing himself to keep looking you in the eyes.

“so, you know how i bought you all those things to let you know i’m thinking of you when i’m not on the road? the bracelet, the lamp, the new fridge, the flowers and notes?” he lists off all the heartfelt things he’s given you over the course of your relationship, a smile taking over your face as you nod at him.

the smile on your face gives him a bit more confidence, more sure of his decision than he was just a few moments ago.

“okay, well, i can’t do that anymore. those bracelets? the lamp? the messages on the fridge? they’re not enough. they’re not cutting it anymore.”

your heart sinks. what does he mean it’s not enough? if it’s enough for you, why isn’t it enough for him? he’s the one that’s gone all the time. you’re the one who has to stay here and wait for him to come back. is this paper a new lease? is he kicking you out? breaking up with you?

you take a step back from him, your head filling with all kinds of negative thoughts as to what’s on that paper in his hand.

“quinn, i-i don’t understand. what do you mean-“

“please, just let me finish. i need to get this out and then you can ask me all the questions you want. and yell at me, if you feel the need,” he interrupts you, putting a hand up in between the two of you.

your mouth snaps shut, tears threatening to spill any second.

“like i said, the superficial stuff just isn’t enough anymore. if i can’t have you with me all the time, i don’t know if i can keep doing this. all of this. it’s killing me. i know it’s my fault i’m gone, but my god i miss you so much it hurts me,” he continues his speech, not picking up on the shake in your hands.

“quinn, you don’t have to do this. we can…figure something else out. i miss you too when you’re gone. so much,” your shaky voice tries to reason with him, not wanting to hear him say the words out loud.

he holds a hand up to silence you, effectively stopping your words.

“my mind’s already made up. already signed my name and everything, even if brad did think i was crazy,” quinn keeps going, confusing you even more.

what did his agent have to do with him breaking up with you and kicking you off of the lease you just signed together?

you don’t have time to ask him, because he lays the paper in front of you, sliding it towards you. “here, just read it for yourself.”

you pick up the thick paper, noting the canucks emblem stamped into the top of the document, your eyes falling to the long paragraphs taking up the majority of the page.

there’s one section that’s highlighted, marked to stand out specifically for your eyes.

“the canucks organization, in agreement with quintin j. hughes, hereby provides transportation, accommodations, and admission to 10 (ten) away games of his choice during regular season hockey, and every meeting of post-season playoffs if necessary, to one person of his choice, contingent of his reporting to canucks sponsored activities such as: games, practice, training camps….”

it takes your brain a few moments to catch up to what you’re reading.

he…rewrote his contract for you. he, somehow, convinced an entire organization to write into his contract a clause to be able to take you with him to games during the season. you look up at him, his nervous stare meeting your eyes.

you start laughing.

quinn was nervous for a lot of things. he was worried you’d freak out and say he was crazy for this. he was worried you’d be mad at him and tell him you didn’t want to go on road trips with him. he didn’t know if you’d cry or jump with joy or walk out on him.

but he never expected you to laugh at him.

you can’t control your laughter. you try, but it just keeps coming, every attempt at containing it only making you laugh harder.

“i don’t understand. what’s so funny here?” quinn manages the courage to ask, voice shaky and embarrassed.

you manage to calm your fit enough to gain a fraction of decorum back, taking a few deep breaths before responding.

“quinn, i thought you were breaking up with me.”

quinn’s eyes widen, not expecting the words out of your mouth at all.

“no, i- why would you think that?” he rushes out, walking towards you.

you wipe the tears from your eyes, trying to calm yourself even further.

“well, i don’t know. the way you worded it had me convinced you were bringing me a new lease you’d signed without my name on it or something. thought you were kicking me out,” you chuckle only slightly at the end of your explanation.

quinn grabs your face in his calloused hands, gently forcing you to look at him.

“i hope you know, i would never break up with you. not by kicking you out of the apartment, much less. if anything you’d be the one kicking me out.”

“well i sure hope not. according to your contract, we have eight more years of roadies in our future. think those accommodations would be real awkward if you kicked me out. wonder if petey would let me bunk with him?”

#alliyaps #okay so #this is sooo far from realsitic #but just go with the whimsy and pretend #i had this mostly written then tumblr glitched and it went away #so ignore the ending once again #it sucks and i’m just as pissed as you are #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes angst #qh43

149 notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 1: Through the Lens of Dreams

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none, reader being distant with the team (more so paige)

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "Paige Blockers" being a blocker...

Welcome to the chapter 1 of my New full length series called :Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The assignment came as a surprise. One minute I was doodling in my notebook, bored out of my mind during Professor Gold's lecture, and the next, he was calling on me.

“Y/N, for your final project, how about something a bit more personal? Something that moves you?”

I blinked, trying to process the shift from the lecture’s dull monotony to my name echoing through the classroom. “Uh, like personal?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Professor Gold said, his tone encouraging. “Think about what inspires you, what makes you feel alive. Your work has always been strong in capturing emotion and detail—why not channel that into something truly meaningful?”

I tilted my head, chewing on his suggestion. What did inspire me? Basketball had always been a big part of my life, from growing up watching UConn Women’s Basketball games with my mom to attending as a fan now. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.

“I… guess I could photograph the UConn Women’s team,” I said slowly, unsure if it would land right.

Professor Gold gave a reassuring nod. “Perfect. Use their stories, their passion, their journey. Show us what it means to be part of something bigger.”

A week later, I found myself walking toward the campus arena, my camera slung over my shoulder. It was game day, and I couldn’t help the excitement buzzing beneath my skin. The night’s game against a strong opponent was sure to be intense, and I couldn’t wait to capture it all through my lens.

Coach Geno Auriemma stood near the court, chatting with a few players, and I took a deep breath before stepping up to him.

“Coach Auriemma,” I said, approaching carefully. “I’m Y/N. I’ve been working on a project for Professor Gold, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment about using the team as my subject.”

Coach turned, his eyes scanning me before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Y/N, right? Professor Gold mentioned you.”

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease under his gaze. “I’d love to capture moments from your team—practices, games, everything. I think it would make for a unique perspective.”

“Unique is good,” Coach said thoughtfully. “We’re always looking for new ways to connect with the fans and our supporters. Just make sure you’re capturing the right shots, no distractions for the team.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly. “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

The game was electric. I had never been this close to the court before, my heart racing as I snapped shot after shot. Paige Bueckers stood out, as she always did—smooth, confident, her presence commanding attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

But then it happened.

Paige leaped for a block, her form graceful and determined. The sound of the ball slamming against her outstretched hand echoed through the arena. In a flash, the ball ricocheted toward me, and before I could even react, it collided with my camera.

The impact sent the camera crashing to the floor, shards of shattered lens scattering across the court.

Time seemed to freeze. My breath hitched as I stared at the mess of broken glass and metal. My favorite camera—ruined.

“Shit,” I whispered, crouching down to survey the damage.

Later that night, after the game had ended and I had made my way back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paige. The collision hadn’t just broken my camera—it had broken something inside me, too.

I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding her, but every time I thought about facing Paige again, I froze.

The next morning, I dragged myself to class, feeling like a walking ghost. It didn’t help that I shared a seat with KK Arnold, Paige’s teammate. KK wasn’t just my classmate—she was also someone who had seen the whole thing unfold.

“Hey, Y/N,” KK greeted with a smile, settling into her seat. “How’s the camera situation? Saw that you got a little too close to Paige’s shot block.”

I winced, my stomach twisting. “Yeah, it wasn’t… great.”

She chuckled softly, but her expression softened when she noticed my downcast eyes. “Look, Paige didn’t mean to—she feels bad about it, I know she does. It was an accident. She wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile. “It’s not her fault. Really.”

KK gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Just… maybe try not to avoid practice today? You’ve been avoiding the team, right?”

I bit my lip, feeling the weight of her words. Avoiding practice wasn’t helping me, but every time I thought about Paige, the memory of that broken camera flashed in my mind.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmured, turning my attention back to the lecture.

By the afternoon, I found myself back at the arena. The air felt different this time, heavier. The stands were packed, buzzing with energy, but I stayed focused on my camera, careful not to interfere with the team.

As I snapped photos, I caught glimpses of Paige—so effortless, so composed. Each shot of her was different, yet every one seemed to highlight that same magnetic presence she carried on the court.

Then, our eyes met.

It was only for a second, but it felt like the world stopped. Paige’s gaze held mine, soft but uncertain, like she was trying to say something without words.

I quickly looked away, heart thudding in my chest.

Later, after practice had ended and the court was mostly cleared, I lingered in the stands, replaying the moments over and over in my head. Paige’s block, the collision, the shattered camera—it wasn’t just a random accident. It had changed everything.

But as much as I wanted to hold on to the anger, the frustration, I couldn’t deny the pull toward her.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

110 notes · View notes

sttrawberries · 41 minutes ago

Text

A little side note: I read this on my computer, saved it as a draft so I could edit it my phone and add emojis to react to some things that I couldn't put into words but I think the draft is too long and it doesn't open in my phone, so this will be emojiless :(

‘’Unfortunately, while you’re apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.’’ okay time to get tissues for my future tears before I start

‘’in this version, Rose and Jason never get together’’ THANK YOUUUUU!!! sorry but I’m so relieved sksksksks I’m just very glad things don’t get complicated adding Rose in the middle considering how close these two were

‘’mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas’’ my kind of people

STARTING HARD ALREADY, PHEWWWW

‘’He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this.’’ Me with the first half: -.- Me with the second half: :)

‘’Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick’’ *meanwhile the rest of the group*: ‘’oh no they’re at it again’’

‘’It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before’’ progress!!!

‘’This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on.’’ OH *imagine my eyes full of tears with a little smile*

Can I just say that I love how detailed this is? I love it!<3

‘’loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this.’’ AAAAAAAAAAA if only I could see it

‘’It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust’’ manifesting this into existence

‘’Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen’’ IT’S HAPPENING AAAAAA

‘’there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be.’’ You better be! (meanwhile I would do the same sjsksksj)

‘’holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments.’’ !!!!

‘’But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason’’ enjoying this new way but also loving the old one

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason. ‘’ PLEASE THE BANTER MUST NEVER GO AWAY

‘’He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’.’’ SHUT UPPP

OOOOOOH THIS NEW POSITION

‘’He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you’’ I’m not complaining ksksksk

‘’It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made. ‘’ mhm..

‘’With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender.‘’ I’m speechless with this masterpiece

‘’You didn’t want to scare this part of him away. ‘’ :(

‘’You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out.’’ SKSJSKSSJKSJS

‘’Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking.’’ Well asajshjshsjj

‘’that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been. ‘’ KSJSAKSJAKS

‘’And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him.’’ D:

‘’They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love. ‘’ *intense staring*

‘’and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place.‘’ ugh

‘’You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. ‘’ oh my boy

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?” well yeah

‘’Gotham needs Robin.” :/

‘’One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless’’ pls i want to hug him

“But… but what about us?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

‘’He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair. ‘’ CRYING EMOJI x6

THE ‘’ Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’’’ TO THE ‘’ How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’’ HAS ME SCREAMING

“The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first. (…) But then… we… happened.” It doesn’t matter from which part of the world you’re reading this, if you focus enough I bet you can hear me screaming

‘’Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it? ‘’ YES

‘’Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness’’ NOOOO BABY

‘’When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours.’’

‘’Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him. ‘’ HE’S SO IN LOVE

‘’Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code. ‘’ JSSKJSKSJ

“Do you want me to go with you?” PLEASEEEE

‘’Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback. ‘’ AAAAAAAAAA I’M CRYING

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” I mean.. he’s not wrong

“He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down (…) It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.” (?

‘’Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask.’’ aaaAAAAAAA

‘’Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around.’’ i could cry again

“I could come to Gotham.” YESSSSSS

“I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.” SKSJSJSS

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex. ‘’ OKAY SKSKSSKSK

“So… I guess this is goodbye?” NO

‘’If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more. ‘’ SHUT UP

‘’Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him.’’ SJSKSKS

‘’His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists –‘’ WHAT ALREADY NONONO

‘’His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you.’’ IT’S A NIGHTMARE

‘’something that caused him to fall in love with you.’’ AAAAAAAAAAA

‘’But he had never seen you afraid’’ :(

‘’Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another? ‘’ *staring*

‘'And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again. ‘’ ah :(

‘’Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. (…) He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him.’’ Uf

‘’he was in his bedroom in Gotham.’’ :/

‘’He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin’’ too many things

‘’Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’’ KSKSKDDJD

‘’The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke.’’ Aw cuties

‘‘Robin’s Ice Machine’’ KSSJSJSSJSSJ

‘’He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’. ‘’ AJAKAJSKAJS

‘’I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you.’’ SO CLOSE

‘’He heaved a sigh, deleted the message’’ NOOOOOO

‘’then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were’’ pls

‘’When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy.’’ We’re getting there *crying*

‘’He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce.’’ I feel him

“Mother.�� Leslie said, posing the first word.

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor. ‘’ KSSSJSSKSKSKSKSSKS

‘’She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great.’’ :/

‘’Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for.’’ AAAAA

‘’practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game.’’ Okay

‘’Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind.’’ NOOO I need to hug him please

“Safe.” She announced the next word.

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation.’’ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!

‘’She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before’’ HEHEHEHE

‘’Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said)’’ nice!

‘’A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend? You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly.’’ KSKSSKS

‘’it meant that you cared.’’ *eyes with tears and a smile*

‘’They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.” Making use of the tissues I got right now

“So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded.

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him.

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life‘’ aw I’m happy

‘’Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official.‘’ SSKSSKS okay

‘’are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.” AAAAAAAAA

‘’Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again. ‘’ ah

‘’Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was. ‘’ WE DO

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.”

Jason didn’t take long with that one either.

“Y/N.”

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one.’’ KSKSSKSKS OKAY I FEEL BAD FOR LESLIE SKSKSKS

‘’It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall. ‘’ NOOOOOOOOO HERE IT COMES

‘’It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim. ‘’ KSKSKSK

‘’You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for.’’ :/

How reader felt when she first came to the tower :(

‘’she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket’’ sksksksk

Reader constantly checking their phone for Jason’s crumbs

‘’she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her. ‘’ I can understand that

‘’she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life’’ kssjksksks

‘’then you would consider it a much needed vacation.’’ Vacation abruptly interrumpted by a call about Jason..

‘’After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then.’’ JAJHSJAJSJJAKAJAJ

‘‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’’ PFFF

‘’As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting. ‘’ KSAJSKAJ

‘’I miss you like hell.’ ‘’ AAAAAAAAAA

‘’Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’’

‘' First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza’’ Im in

‘’perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either.’’ NOOO WAIT YOU WILL HAVE ONE

NOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T DELETE THE MESSAGE

Ohhhh they don’t know yet…

‘’the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar)’’ SKSKSS

‘’in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving.’’ :/

‘’For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future. ‘’ okay..

‘’The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply’’ that awkward feeling..

‘’I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’’ Okay that was a perfect answer

‘’It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better. ‘’ :D

‘’I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’’ AAAAA

‘’he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin.’’ *SIGHS*

‘‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’’ Imagining isn’t enough, I need to cross the screen to hug him

‘’you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’’ PLEASE

‘’a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you’’ AAAAAAAAAAAA

‘’The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’’’ I snorted

HE’S BEEN LOOKING FOR APARTMENTS

‘’Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice.’’ PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT

‘’Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’’ SJSJSJ

‘’You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’’

‘The correct tense is: poorer.’’

‘‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’’ I’M LAUGHING SO MUCH WITH THE WAY THAT TALK HAS TURNED INTO

‘‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’ (…) ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’’ KASKAJAJAJ

‘’But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’’ MY HEART

‘’You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’.’’ THE WAY I ALSO THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SKSKSKS

‘’You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.’’ My hear is so warm now and I know I’m going to get my heart broken in a few paragraphs

‘’For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future. ‘’ awwww

‘’On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself,’’ MY BOYYY

‘’This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans. ‘’ THEY’RE SO IN LOVE

‘’You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right’’ hehehe

‘’You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen.’’ AAAAAAAAAAAAAA A MAN

BUT I GUESS YOU’RE MINE????? AAAAAAAAAA

I knew her grandma would interrupt at some point, but why now? Crying

‘’Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.”

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from.’’ SSJSJSJ

‘’the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught.’’ WE’RE GETTING TO THIS PART ALREADY NONONONO

And we don’t know what his reaction was to the last message, I’m gonna cry

‘’But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended.’’ AAAAAAA NOOO

‘’Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing. Nobody even noticed that he was gone. ‘’ NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS IS TOO MUCH

‘’When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut. ‘’ AAAAAAAAA THANK YOU

But they can’t tell they’re worried about him because they’re nothing official, crying again

‘’Maybe he had met someone else.‘’ reader spiraling, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry

‘’He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways.’’ Oh no

‘’But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this. ‘’ shhhhh

‘’The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched.’’ Seeing Jason like this is breaking my heart

‘’He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger’’ *crying emoji*

‘’Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried. ‘’ PAINNN

‘’Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection’’ D:

‘’Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot. ‘’ I feel called out

‘’But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away.’’ OH GOOD

‘’Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life. ‘’ okay, her grandma it’s not that bad

‘’You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying’’ :(

‘’It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day’’ they’re so cute

‘’You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart. At this point, you were just along for the ride’’ this would be so nice if we didn’t know where this is going

‘’It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life. ‘’ I DIDN’T NOTICED EITHER UNTIL THIS POINT

‘’You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it. ‘’ AAAAAAA

“I love you.” I’M CRYING

‘’Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved.’’ THIS IS SO RAW AND IT’S SO GOOD AND WELL THOUGHT AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING

‘’You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him.’’ NOOO AND IT WAS THE OPPOSITE

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.” SHUT UP NO

*finishes drying tears* okay I know it took me a lot of time but I finally finished reading it, I absolutely loved it, again, this is a rollercoaster of emotions, from laughing to crying, I’ve enjoyed it so much. Everything was so well put together, thinking in every detail, even the heartbreaking parts had impacted on me so much (and I’m not usually the kind of person that goes looking for angst) but I appreciated every bit.

Now I have to ask, do you have a taglist? Can I be added for when the next part is posted? Thank you!

And thank you so much for sharing your stories! THEY’RE SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

The Jaws of Life

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Now part of me has holes in it, and part of me is whole.

We’ve only begun.

I can’t decide - maybe it’s enough to get by for now.

But I’m having the time of my life - rotting in the sun.

We’re inside The Jaws of Life.

Part One: Panic Room

Summary:

You and Jason don't really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways.

Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce's behest, and you're off to visit a long lost relative that you didn't even know cared about you.

Unfortunately, while you're apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 19,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is a sequel to Emergency Contact, so make sure that you read that fic before you start this one. This can be read as a standalone, but reading that fic first provides emotional context for the relationship between the characters, and it gives you more amazing stuff to read! Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic has a lot of warnings, so strap in - the reader character is completely gender neutral - the main pronouns used for the bulk of the fic are you/yours and there is one scene where Jason is talking to someone else about the reader and uses they/them pronouns for the reader and there is absolutely no descriptions of what genitals the reader character has (I like all my GN fics to be interpreted so that the character could be trans, or cis, or nonbinary, and that they could have a penis or a vagina); there are implications of the reader being trans or nonbinary (something I threw in last minute cause it felt like it fit the fic well), but like with my fat reader fics - if you're cis then just ignore it, roll with it, and remember that most fics are catered specifically for you; this fic DOES use Y/N (as do all of my fics); the reader character has meta powers - the reader character can form ice crystals out of nothing and can freeze pretty much any substance; Jason calls the reader 'babe' (but as I said with the previous fic, I think this is a genderless nickname and Jason would call anyone this when flirting and being affectionate); mentions of Jason's canon kidnapping and canon interactions with Deathstroke (and the trauma those incidents likely caused for him); mentions of canon deaths; the fic starts off with a smut scene - the reader gives Jason a blowjob; mentions of Jason 'gagging' the reader with his cock (during previous incidents, not this time); Jason uses the word 'pretty' to describe the reader (he says they have a 'pretty mouth') - again, I feel like this word is fairly gender neutral, especially in the context of him being affectionate; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Jason's fingers); protected penetrative sex - Jason and the reader fuck while using a condom (and because I didn't describe the reader's genitals, it could be vaginal sex or anal sex, who knows); marking kink; some dirty talk; the reader is more submissive and Jason is more dominant, but there is no explicit BDSM roles; (very brief) cockwarming; (and I think that's it for the smut section, the rest of the warnings are non-smut related); mentions of Rose having a one-sided affection towards Jason or flirting with him to try and further her mission (in this version, Rose and Jason never get together); mentions of Jason's past and the trauma he has surrounding it - including discussions of his poverty, his parents' deaths, his abandonment and neglect by all the adults in his life, his time in foster care; Jason has a generally poor self-image in this fic and has negative internal dialogue surrounding himself when he is narrating; mentions of the reader having a backstory similar to Jason's - the reader grew up in severe poverty and neglect and was homeless for the majority of their young life, and also had a parent who had issues with substance abuse; descriptions of Jason being kidnapped by Deathstroke; semi graphic descriptions of blood and violence (and death); semi-graphic descriptions of Jason being tortured by a kidnapper; mentions of the reader going to visit a long lost relative who is dying of brain cancer (if themes around hospice and palliative care are triggering to you, then these sections might be triggering - but I haven't gone into detail about the medical aspects or mentioned any medical environments or medical equipment, the cancer is a background plot point); mentions of Jason and the reader sexting in the past (none of the messages are detailed here); mentions of Jason and the reader sharing a dark sense of humor to cope with their traumas; an enemy describes the reader character as a 'pretty one' and 'pretty thing' (again, I think this is fairly gender neutral, and the villain uses this term in a more condescending way); descriptions of gun violence; this entire fic has extreme emotional angst, and this first half is the more 'light-hearted' part, so do be warned that this fic will not make you happy and it is a big whump fest.

A/N: I am so fucking excited to post this fic, you guys have no idea omg. This is just the first half, and I think the fic as a whole is what makes it a great fic, but I think this is an amazing start/introduction and I am so excited to hear what you guys think of it!! Especially considering that this fic has been two years in the making and I am finally getting to post it omg. I am SO EXCITED !!!!!

...

“Fuck, babe.”

Jason let out a breathy sigh as your mouth worked on his cock, sloppy and eager against the beautiful dick that you had come to know so well over these past few months.

It was rare that you treated him to a blowjob. Since the two of you had started this ‘relationship’, you had noticed that he often got too greedy when you sucked him off - trying too hard to take control, shoving his cock into your mouth with unhinged care, rather than just sitting back to enjoy the ride. He would make jokes about ‘shutting you up’ by keeping his dick in your mouth, and you never wanted him to get too cocky about having this.

You wanted him to know that it was a privilege to have his cock in your mouth, especially without you simply biting his (very perfect) cock off.

But after the chaotic past few weeks that the team had - with Gar and Conner being captured by Cadmus, with Donna’s funeral still fresh in everyone’s minds - you thought that Jason deserved this to take his mind off all of it. His wounds from Deathstroke had barely healed and everyone was still mourning.

So you had him flat on his back in his bed - similar to the position he had you in not too long ago, when he had pulled the bullet fragment out of your stomach and bandaged you up. And you were straddling his knees as you worked your mouth on his cock, your tongue flat against the underside of the thick, impressive length while you bobbed your head, letting spit flow freely from your open mouth without care. It sloppily gathered around the base, slick down over his balls in a perfect, messy way.

Naturally, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of you gurgling on his cock and the moans that he could barely contain due to the deadly heat of you eagerly swallowing his dick.

“Fuckin’ love your mouth.” He moaned, bringing a hand down to stroke gentle fingers across your cheek - burning, something that made you gasp quietly against his flesh.

It was a move much more tender than he would have ever made before.

This Jason was a Jason much sweeter than the one Doctor Light took from you on that near-fatal night. You knew that it likely had a lot to do with you laying your life on the line for him - the fact that you had dangled yourself out of a high-rise building trying to save him, vowed that you would never let him go.

That night had changed everything for the both of you.

This Jason was not the same sex-hungry, carnal, ‘live for the moment’ person who had left The Tower that night, half-cocked and determined to prove that he was better than the old ‘relics’ who kept leaving him out of all their plans. This Jason was humble, quiet, thoughtful. This Jason put his arm around you in a room full of people, not caring who looked on. This Jason actually took the time to think before he spoke.

This Jason - even if he didn’t want to admit it - clearly cared about your feelings and wanted to show it.

(And that made him a lot more deserving of a blowjob, unlike the Jason who would fuck into your mouth without asking and then laugh when you gagged on his cock.)

“Goddammit, ‘m close.” Jason mumbled out - you could feel the muscles of his thighs straining under your palms, a concerted effort not to buck up into the warmth of your mouth to chase the finality of his high.

You would have thanked him for it, if you didn’t have your mouth full. Instead, you bobbed your head faster and moaned around him - a wordless invitation for him to cum down your throat, for him to have a prize that he wouldn’t have been worthy of before.

“Shit, babe-”

Jason seethed through his teeth, and then curled his fist into the back of your shirt, tugging - surprisingly, urging you to pull away from his cock.

“Come on, come up.” He said, gulping for breath. “I wanna fuck you.”

You pulled off, leaving a sloppy twinge of spit trailing from your swollen lips to the pink head of his cock, glistening wet and slick sounding. His dick bobbed back toward his pelvis with a filthy, wet sound - causing him to groan as you caught your breath with a small gasp.

“You feelin’ okay?” You chuckled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I have never known you to turn down cumming in my mouth.”

“As tempting as it is to see my cum dripping from your pretty lips…”

Jason said, reaching down and gently shoving his thumb past your over-worked, swollen lips. Naturally, you stuck your tongue out and tasted his skin, wrapping your lips around the digit and sucking once again, loving the absolutely lust-sick look on his face as you did this.

You couldn’t help but to indulge in the attention - not when it was his eyes on you.

“I definitely can’t pass up the opportunity to watch you cum while you ride my cock.” He added on, his voice rumbling quietly with lust, the idea clearly something that truly excited him.

You popped your mouth off his thumb before you spoke.

“Oh? You think you’re gonna make me cum before you blow your load?” You chuckled, posing it as a challenge - knowing that he fucked you better when he was riled up, when he thought of it as another thing to prove himself in.

“Think I’m some kind of amateaur?” Jason scoffed quietly under his breath.

He put a hand on your hip and pulled you up his body, silently agreeing to the challenge that you had posed. You shed your shirt while he grabbed a condom - you were already prepped and well lubed, seeing as Jason had made you cum with his fingers and his mouth before you had turned him over on his back, seeking to return the favor.

He rolled the condom on and slicked up his cock with more lube for good measure, something that made a wonderfully filthy slick sound. Then, with his hands firm on your hips, he pulled you up to straddle him and had you mounting him like he was a throne that you were meant to sit upon.

You let out a rattling moan as you sat down on his cock, feeling the full hot length stretch you open for the first time in too long. It was a smooth, steady motion - a joining of two people that came from silent, delicate knowing and trust. At this point, he didn’t have to stop and ask if you were okay - he simply knew from the blissed-out look on your face that you were enjoying every inch of it.

It was perfect.

With your hands balanced on his chest and his forehead pressed against yours, for once, his eyes daring to gaze into yours past the thickness of his lashes. Usually he busied himself with his head in your neck, or squeezed his eyes shut when your dirty talk got to him particularly well. And often, insisted on fucking you from behind so that he could focus more on destroying you with ‘skill’ than falling apart due to the expressions on your face and seeing every little echo of his cock flicker in your eyes.

But this was distinctly different. Staring right into your eyes, no shying away, no backing down. As if inviting you to a more intimate part of him that you had somehow never seen, even if you had been naked together and fucked each other dozens of times by now.

He was hot and heavy inside of you, so beautifully thick, filling you up so well. Strangely, there was that thing deep in your gut that yearned for him to pull out and peel the condom off so that you could feel every single raw inch of him - but you told yourself you were smarter than that. You should be.

“Perfect.” Jason sighed, his breath puffing out against your chin.

It was that single word that warmed your insides and made you clench around his cock, causing him to hum from deep within his chest. He stroked a slow, gentle hand from your hip to the fullness of your ass, up your back, holding you like you were something precious. It was so unlike every other time he had fucked you - when all of his touches were about grabbing, consuming you, holding you like you were an object to be taken and owned by him in those moments.

You had liked it then. It was emotionally detached - but it was hot. It always made you cum hard and fast.

But this was so different. Especially for you and Jason.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You whispered back, fishing for some of that old banter - the humor that had founded your entire ‘relationship’ with Jason.

Jason laughed, and you bit back a moan when you felt the sound vibrating through you, when it drove his cock just a bit deeper inside of you.

He resisted the urge to get sappy, to say ‘I meant you, you’re perfect’. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tucked a possessive touch tight around you and planted the other arm in the middle of your back, sitting himself up slightly, bending his knees - getting good leverage for what he wanted to do next.

“I don’t need to stroke my own ego when I have you, babe.” Jason announced, his smirk appearing in its usual stance and his voice soft.

Before you could muster any clever reply, he used his tight hold on you to lift you slightly off his cock and then began fucking up into you. In tandem with his rough, heavy thrusts up into you, he slammed your body down to meet the thickness of his cock, creating a rough, demanding rhythm that easily chased the air out of your lungs.

“Jay-” You gasped, quickly becoming breathless. “Jason, fuck me!”

You could little more than let him fuck you senseless. You were used to the feeling of his cock filling you up like this, yet it created that deadly curl in your gut each time like it was brand new. It sent harsh stinging across your nerve endings, a deadly wash across your skin as the heat crept through you.

You knew that Jason was talented at this, but you also knew that it was something else. Something more than attraction - something you couldn’t get from anyone else that you still refused to fully acknowledge.

“Hey, shh.”

Jason hushed you, using that beautifully condescending coo that you knew meant he didn’t actually want you to be quiet - he always wanted to hear how loud you became when you were entranced by his cock. He bent his knees more to fuck up into you even harsher, causing you to make a wounded sound as his cock got even deeper into you.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, hot against your chin. “I’ve got you, babe.”

The gentle, soothing nature of his voice juxtaposed with the venomous sting of his cock continually snapping against your pelvis was something that made you downright dizzy. All the combined sensations had your body arching against him - your muscles were tightening up, and though he felt that distinct warmth rising up in his own gut, he was proud to know that he had you there already. He was going to make you cum first, just like he had promised. He knew your body too well by now not to play you like a well tuned fiddle.

“You gonna be good for me?”

Jason mumbled against your neck, leaning in to gently skim his teeth along your skin. He sucked slightly, leaving marks, being entirely selfish in his claiming of you. He loved the taste of your skin on his tongue. If you refused to let him go, if you refused to leave him to let him rot in his own poisonous life, then he would let everyone know that you had taken him on and that you were owned now. It was his silent way of begging you not to double back, not to realize what a mistake you had made.

“You gonna cum on by cock?” He added on, his throat flexing slightly as his own lust clutched at him.

It was something that you couldn’t have refused if you tried.

“Jason-!”

You gasped out, unconsciously bucking your hips down to meet his thrusts as he continued fucking up into you hard, getting quite the workout in his legs and abs, spearing his cock into you from the angle below you.

But fuck, you were so worth it. Seeing the twisting pleasure on your face as your orgasm washed over you, feeling the pleasant sting in his back as your nails dug into his shoulders. Hearing your choked off moans and panting breaths as you could do nothing but hang on for the ride, feeling the beautiful mess across his pelvis as you came, showing him just how good he was fucking you.

“So good.” Jason moaned into your neck, latching on to suck the skin there once again. “Fuck, Y/N, so good for me.”

He found his own skin on fire once again as you tightened around his dick, your muscles becoming a hot vice around him as you rode out your orgasm, forcing his mind blank from the pure pleasure of it all. He loved the sounds you made, the look on your face, the way you ground your hips so closely against his as you savored every second of it.

Jason was dizzy as his own orgasm hit him, his whole body tingling and sparking with pleasure as he shot his load into the condom. He put a hand across your back, pulling you close, pressing your body flush against his and grinding up into you in tentative, almost gentle strokes as he rode it out. With his face buried in your neck, kissing you, breathing in your scent - it was almost tender.

It was the closest to love-making that you and Jason had ever gotten.

“Fuck, Jason.” You whined, your stomach curling with a new kind of heat, your skin on fire - this time, alight with the newly birthed feeling of his loving touch on your skin.

To an extent, it almost frightened you. Especially because of how much you liked it, how you could see yourself growing to love it. Especially because now you felt timid. You didn’t want to scare this part of him away.

“I’ve got you.” He said again, quietly mumbling the words into your neck like a sacred promise.

Unable to resist the urge, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, truly holding him, leaning into his touch. You relaxed against his body, sagging into the hold, and Jason hummed with content against your skin at the feeling.

For a few moments - a capsule against the world that felt more peaceful than you had ever known - you let yourself become lost to this feeling.

Still speared on his slowly softening cock, you simply enjoyed the feeling of his hard, muscled frame against you, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you in such an affectionate hold - like two giant pillars keeping you safe from the world. You enjoyed the scent of his fading cologne twinged with his sweat, let one of your hands wander up into his hair and thread a couple of your fingers along his scalp, which got another pleasant moan from him.

When you unconsciously clenched down on him again, you had a thought.

“Jason,” You whimpered out quietly. “The condom.”

It was a cruel disturbance to your peaceful little world, but he knew that the two of you couldn’t just stay like that forever. He would have to separate from you to throw it out eventually. You would be horrified if that tricky piece of latex got lost inside of you and you had to tell someone else in the Tower why you had to go to the ER to get it out.

“Oh shit.” He sighed in return.

You hesitantly climbed off him and luckily, the condom easily slid out on his soft cock, and he tossed it away while you collapsed to lay on the bed beside him.

“We should just stop using condoms.” Jason chuckled, giving you a sly grin as he laid back against the pillows beside you.

“Funny.” You griped sarcastically, moving to lay against his chest. You couldn’t resist the urge to cuddle, even if you wanted to go take a shower and get cleaned up. You could use the excuse that your legs were jelly right now and you wanted to gain back some of your energy first.

You wanted to bring up the fact that you had been so adamant about using condoms with Jason because your ‘relationship’ with him was supposed to strictly be about sex. Sure, when the two of you started fucking, you didn’t expect that he was going to be sleeping with a different person every other week. Dick had you guys locked up in the Tower, constantly breathing down your necks - that was one of the reasons why you even turned to Jason for sex at all. He was right there. He was available. He was decent looking.

And when you and Jason had started sleeping together, you had thought he was lying about how many people he had fucked before you. You thought he was a mouthy virgin or that he had slept with maybe one other person before he so boldly started pursuing you. But he could definitely back up all the talk, and that had you wondering how many of his claims were true. And that had you even more adamant about the condoms, because you didn’t know where he had… been.

And then when Rose first came around, you saw the way she looked at him. You had seen her trying to flirt with him - a gentle touch on his arm, trying to pull him aside to talk after he came back from his brush with Deathstroke. You had wondered if there was something going on between her and Jason.

You wondered if Jason proposing to drop condoms was his strange way of asking you to upgrade the status of your relationship. Friends with benefits, people who are still allowed to fuck other people - they use condoms. They have to use condoms, just in case. But people in a more serious relationship - they don’t always use condoms, because they don’t fuck other people. They don’t fuck other people because they’re in love.

“Jason-” You said his name gently, about to ask him this, but then - his phone rang.

A high-pitched digital tone chimed out from where he had put it on the nightstand and Jason groaned loudly in annoyance before he picked it up, looked at the Caller ID, and then promptly ignored the call.

“Who was it?” You asked, curious who he would outright ignore like that.

“Bruce.” He said, his tone dull, clearly feeling uncertain about the man. “The old man can leave a voicemail. Or send a text like a normal person.”

This was strange to you. You thought that Bruce and Jason were coming to be on better terms.

Bruce had come to Donna’s funeral, and you had seen the two of them talking quietly at one point. You had tried not to stare at the interaction unfolding, poorly reading Bruce’s lips out of the corner of your eye (but you didn’t get much out of it). Near the end of it, you had seen Bruce give Jason a fatherly pat on the shoulder before he walked away from the conversation, and Jason had looked entirely pensive about the whole thing, even if he hadn’t told you what it was about.

You hadn’t been introduced to Bruce, then - the funeral really wasn’t the time for ‘meeting and greeting’, seeing as everyone was quietly in mourning over their lost friend. But you got the sense that he was a stoic and reserved man, and him giving that small bit of physical affection to Jason was about as good as an outright apology, telling him how much of a mistake it was to send him away in the first place.

Apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way.

“I didn’t know you were screening his calls.” You said, curious as to why Jason didn’t want to talk to Bruce.

“I’m busy.” Jason said, giving you his usual stunning grin before he leaned in and began kissing up your neck again. It was a pleasant, sweet type of affection, but he was clearly deflecting from the actual point you were trying to make, trying to distract you.

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. And that only made you want to press the point harder.

“Why?” You asked, trying not to fall victim to the feeling of Jason’s soft lips against your neck, lovingly sucking, moving with gentle kisses against your skin.

“‘Why’ what?” Jason replied - perhaps playing dumb, perhaps genuinely not knowing what you meant.

“Why won’t you talk to Bruce?” You asked, clarifying.

Jason sighed and leaned back against his pillow, collapsing with defeat.

After a moment of tense, thoughtful silence - a moment in which you worried that you had pushed too far and he would simply tell you to get out - he finally gave in to the fact that he would have to talk about it. He gave in to the idea that talking to you about it would be easier than not talking about it at all.

“He wants me to go back to Gotham.” Jason announced.

He sounded oddly sullen speaking these words, which instantly confused you. You knew that Jason from a few weeks ago would have jumped at the chance to go back to Gotham, to resume his duties as Robin. He would have screamed with joy and eagerly asked Bruce when the next flight out was.

So why was he hesitant now? Did it have to do with the incident with Deathstroke? Did he doubt his capabilities as Robin now? Did he want to quit?

“You don’t want to?” You asked, trying to sound gentle rather than accusatory.

Jason found it all too easy to open up to you now.

“I don’t know what I want.” Jason shrugged, entirely raw and honest in this declaration - for once, not dancing around his more serious emotions with jokes or sarcasm. “I mean, before, I would have been excited for Bruce to invite me back. But now…”

“This is probably for the best.”

You said, trying to motivate him past his potential insecurities. Before it was something you had done with playful combatance, knowing that if you faced him with a challenge, he would always rise to prove himself, even if it was out of spite. And now it was something you did with brutal, soft honesty, but still, it was nothing new for you.

“The Tower was just supposed to be a temporary stop-over, right?”

You posed, reaching out and gently brushing your fingers across his jaw. He stared into your eyes then, and you saw something swimming there - nerves. Longing.

“Gotham needs Robin.”

You repeated it because it was something you had heard Jason say before.

One of the main reasons he took up the mantle of Robin, taking on someone else’s costume and name, rather than creating his own - was because he knew that lots of lost kids looked up to Robin. When he was a young kid, growing up in the shittest parts of Gotham, he admired Robin. He had been truly thrilled to meet Dick for the first time because, in a world where he was starving and alone and none of the adults in his life cared - Robin was his hero. Someone (seemingly) not much older than himself, who donned a cape, didn’t have any superpowers or magic, and got to stand alongside the Bat himself, fighting for justice. A voice for the voiceless. A fist for the powerless.

Jason went to bed cold and hungry many nights thinking about Robin. Thinking about how one good person can make a difference in a cruel world.

So when he had been given the opportunity to make up some dumb name of his own, or to become Robin - it wasn’t really a choice for him. He became Robin in order to be that symbol of hope for others, and in truth - to fulfill the hope he once needed for himself.

“Right.” Jason sighed. He did have a duty to the people of Gotham. But something else was bothering him. “But… but what about us?”

Us.

He said it so fondly, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to think of you and him as a pair.

It was the first time either of you had truly acknowledged it. Finally acknowledging the way your dynamic had changed since that night. Otherwise, it had been absolutely unspoken.

“What about us?” You echoed back, your voice trembling quiet.

You were truly afraid to hear his answer.

‘Say it.’ You wanted to scream at him. ‘Say the words. Stop making me think that all of this has been just big one big hallucination on my part. Say it, asshole. Say it and I’m yours for the rest of your life.’

“Come on.” He sighed, flickering off towards the wall and refusing to look at you now, the words grating against his throat.

‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’ He wanted to scream. ‘How much I fucking love you? How I can’t leave here now because I can’t leave you? How I would quit being Robin if it meant getting to be with you?’

The air trembled with the might of all those unspoken words as Jason gathered a better, more guarded reply.

“The Tower was supposed to be a stop-over. At first.” He shrugged, still distinctly refusing to look at you. “But then… we… happened.”

He explained it clumsily, clearly stuck for words in that entirely emotionally constipated way, motioning vaguely between the two of you. Once again, he was refusing to acknowledge the thing going on between the two of you. He was refusing to put those exact, big, serious words on it. Afraid that the weight of it all would knock him over, swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful.

But his lack of words bothered you so damn much.

Was it a casual relationship? Was it sex? Was it love? Was it the two of you finding your life-long soulmates and being too traumatized and stubborn and stupid to actually acknowledge it?

You hummed in agreement of this, nodding.

“You shouldn’t stay just for me, though.” You told him.

His duties as Robin were important. Mending his relationship with Bruce was important. Far more important than having sex with you and training for whatever vague threat Dick had in mind (especially when Dick couldn’t stand up and protect Jason from very real threats, like Deathstroke).

Jason’s face cracked with a flutter of disappointment and sadness, a rattle of emotions coming through that he usually wouldn’t show around anybody else. He thought that you were breaking things off with him - whatever things were. But that wasn’t the case.

“I might have to leave soon anyway.” You added on, trying to clarify your point.

“You’re leaving?” He asked, sounding entirely hurt by this, the words acting as a bitter accusation coming off his lips.

He held in the other thing he wanted to say.

‘Where else would you have to go?’

He was trying to be more thoughtful with his words these days - and he knew this sounded far too much like a dig, mocking at the circumstances of your past. A past which you had divulged to him in bits and pieces while laying in bed with him after a healthy fuck, much like this.

When he had found out how similar the two of you were, he found his soul more and more drawn to yours. Your mother had been a deadbeat, much like his. Apparently she came from some richie rich family that you had only met a few times, when you were so young that you could only piece together a few memories from it, but she left behind all of it to be with her deadbeat boyfriend - someone who may or may not have been your father. Someone who got your mother hooked on drugs and petty crime to pay for the habit when your rich grandmother cut her off from the family money, knowing the kind of life she was living.

You grew up a lot like Jason did.

You saw your mother faded, abused, you had been forced to mature up and take care of yourself and even take care of your own mother when you had been far too young to do so. You had lived in slums. At many points in your life, you had been homeless.

You never had a real father to speak of, and when your mother overdosed, you were left abandoned when you were still a young teen. But you took care of yourself well enough, especially considering that you had an advantage that Jason didn’t - icy powers from a freak accident that happened around the time you were born that should have killed you.

It was only by luck that you ran into Dick and Kory when they came into the diner that you had been waiting tables at, whispering harshly under their breath about a young girl with severe, mysterious powers that they had lost track of. And you had pointed them toward the old Caulder house on the edge of town and offered to go with them - because you knew Niles Caulder from a time when he had offered to ‘help’ you with your own powers and you had gotten a bad feeling about the man.

Jason called it luck because it was that incident that led you on the path to meeting him.

“I’m only going for a little while.” You told him. “My grandmother - the one I’ve only seen like? Twice? Apparently she hired a P. I. to track down my mom. Found out my mom was dead, and then eventually - she found me. She’s getting sentimental because she has brain cancer or something? I didn’t read everything in the letter.”

You shrugged, spotty on the information and unsure if the trip you had planned was even a good idea in the first place.

Jason easily understood why you were jaded when it came to the concept of ‘family’. You had been abandoned by them and left alone in the world. You had raised yourself, essentially. Why would you need them now?

“She wants me to come and see her - something about deathbed remorse and blah, blah. I don’t know. I wasn’t gonna go, but Dick thinks I should, because she’s like the only living family I have that I know about.” You finished the explanation with a sigh, and Jason frowned.

Of course Dickhead was being righteous about his moral code.

Jason wanted to convince you to stay, but - maybe Dick had a point. Maybe, if you had a shot at having a relationship with your ‘real’ family - maybe you should take it.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jason had no clue why it was his first instinct to offer this. But it felt right. It felt instinctive to attempt to comfort you these days, rather than combating you or coming up with some annoying, clever comeback.

You should have said yes.

It would have been fun at the very least; an amusing trainwreck, perhaps. You could only imagine what it would be like - bringing your mouthy situationship along with you to visit your rich, uptight, estranged grandmother. Even just explaining the nature of your relationship with Jason to her would have been a wild and fun ride.

But instead, you let your guarded instincts get the better of you.

“No.” You sighed. “I - I can handle it myself.”

You sounded a lot less sure in your reply, but you made yourself sure as you continued.

“If she gets too whiny, or too… sentimental, I’ll bail. I know that Dick or Kory would come and get me if I asked them to. And I am very good at running from situations that don’t benefit me.” You tried to laugh it off, though this did evoke some painful memories of your past, when you had to run from things that very well could have ended your life - or worse.

“You also have a habit of running toward situations that don’t benefit you.” Jason sighed, not letting you easily forget the fact that you ran into a gun-hot hostage situation and dangled yourself off a building to rescue him.

You lightly smacked his shoulder in response, and he quietly grunted at this, rolling his eyes.

“I can handle myself. Dickhead.” You replied, much less bite behind the words than there would have been before. “Besides, you have to go to Gotham and deal with your own sentimental old bag.”

“The last word I would ever use to describe Bruce is ‘sentimental’.” Jason argued gently.

“He keeps a trophy room full of stuff from every criminal he’s ever taken down,” You reminded Jason. “It’s his own form of weird, fucked-up sentiment.”

Jason shrugged.

You laid back down, tucking yourself into Jason’s side and laying a few simple kisses against the skin of his chest before you settled in, closing your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, and there was only a moment of quiet before -

“What are you gonna do after you visit your grandmother?” He asked, so entirely timid. “Are you gonna come back to The Tower?”

‘Will I ever see you again?’ He wanted to ask. ‘Is it really over between us?’

Jason couldn’t imagine not having you around.

You were the tape that had held him together after everything went down with Deathstroke. When the Titans went south, ruined by Dick’s lies and the pressure of enemies from their past, you were the brick wall that had held him up. If not for you, he could have easily imagined himself drowning in booze, crashing his motorcycle off the side of a cliff in a drunken blur; or jumping off the top of this incredibly impressive building to make himself nothing but a stain on the concrete below.

You hesitated, but worked up the courage to truly speak what was waiting on your lips, especially when you weren’t looking at his face, tracing every micro-expression for potential disappointment or glee.

“I could come to Gotham.” You whispered, barely letting your words break into audible sound. When Jason took too long to reply, you rushed to add on something else, to make your proposal seem less serious. “I guess I could come see that stupid cave you’re always talking about.”

Jason laughed at this, and you loved the feeling of the vibrations under the side of your face.

“Yeah.” He said. “Sounds cool. I - I think Bruce would actually like having you around.”

You wondered if that was true, or if Jason was just amplifying his own affection for you within his mind. Either way, it was sweet.

You ended up falling asleep for a few hours. Jason’s gentle breathing flowing through his lungs under your cheek soothed you into an easy sleep - when you woke up, you were reminded of the drying mess between your thighs and wicked soreness that had set into your muscles. You needed a hot shower, and you needed to go pack a bag. You had to tell Dick that you wanted to book the ticket to go and see your grandmother.

Knowing him, he likely already had one booked on the principle that you would come around to his line of thinking and he would end up being right.

You were crawling out of bed when Jason’s hand caught your wrist.

“You sneakin’ away on me?” He mumbled out, sleepy, not yet opening his eyes.

“I gotta go shower, dipshit.” You said, your voice gentle and chiding, no real force behind the words.

Jason gave you a sleepy smile.

“Come back afterwards.” He replied, clearly hoping for more cuddles - or more sex.

“I can’t.” You told him. “I have to get ready to leave. Remember?”

This caught his full attention, and he sat up abruptly, blinking his eyes open to catch a glimpse of you in the barely there, dim light. It was just before sunrise, the sky kissed hazy gray outside of the giant windows that lined his bedroom.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He asked, disappointment barely masked in his voice as he continued to grip your wrist.

“Yes.” You said, knowing that you were echoing that tone right back. “So… I guess this is goodbye?”

“Fuck you.” He replied, a harsh sigh from his lungs. He hurled the expletive at the concept of a goodbye with you. That was something he never wanted.

He tugged on your wrist and you were reeled in like a fish, walking around the bed toward his side. You tucked your butt tightly beside one of his thighs, sitting close to him, vowing that you would get up soon as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist.

He had the other arm across your chest, tucking his hand along your jaw and tilting your head toward him. You eased into the kiss with a small moan, enjoying the softness of his lips like a tree enjoys the sun. You soaked him up for a few long moments, and when you tried to pull back the first time, he held you there for just a bit longer.

If you had known that was going to be the last time you kissed him, you would have savored it more.

In a silent agreement - he finally let you go, and his eyes stayed glued to you as you got dressed enough to go down the hallway and then, you left out his bedroom door. His eyes lingered on the door for a few prolonged seconds after you did so, and then finally, he turned over again and fell back into an unpleasant sleep. One that felt fitful now that you weren’t in his bed.

…

Jason felt cold.

The room he was in - some mysterious, wall-off concrete place with no light - was freezing. And it wasn’t the pleasant kind of cool like the touch of your icy skin when you crawled into bed with him late at night. Or the shocking delightful kind of cold like when you played a prank on him, running your super-powered icy fingers up his back just to get a rise out of him.

No, this was a shocking, dead kind of cold.

This was the kind of cold that would bring death after a short period of time. It was the kind of cold that easily made his fingers and toes numb, and made him struggle against his binds - and it was only then that Jason realized he was tied up.

His arms were pinned behind his back and bound at the wrists - though he couldn’t tell with what. He couldn’t feel the texture of the binding through the thickness of his Robin uniform gloves in order to know how to best get out of it. Whether it was duct tape or rope, that would determine his next move, and he needed to make a move - fast.

His legs were free. That was a good sign. That would definitely be useful.

Before Jason could contemplate much more of this, a door that he hadn’t yet noticed off to his right burst open, creating a rush of light into the dull, dark room - a blinding moment where all he saw was shadows and movement. By the time his eyes had adjusted, a body was being thrown at his feet. Or rather, a very limp, fully alive person.

Deathstroke towered over this person, wearing his full gear, the armor thick and imposing, his silhouette blocking out nearly all the light that had just been let into the room.

Jason’s eyes flickered from him, to the person on the floor - purposefully stiffening his jaw in his best attempt not to show any fear.

His throat became dry and he held back a whimper of fright when he saw that the limp body on the floor was you.

Your hands were bound behind your back, too, and you were forced silent with a cloth gag in your mouth, tied tightly behind your head. But your eyes truly captured Jason’s attention the most. Beyond the scrapes and bruises that littered your cheeks, signs of pain that already made him ravenous with rage, more than eager to rip apart whatever was holding him back in order to tear Deathstroke to pieces just for daring to touch you - your eyes were full of pure terror.

Jason had never seen you like this before.

Right from the moment he had met you, you had been nothing but confident - a palace of strength, calm, cleverness that he wanted so badly to topple. It was why he flirted with you, argued with you. He wanted so badly to get under your skin, to see you rattled. It was only when the two of you had sex that he finally saw some wavering in that, finally saw you falling apart.

And eventually, it pushed away to something deeper, something softer - something that caused him to fall in love with you.

But he had never seen you afraid. That fear in your eyes, you silently screaming at him for help - it put his stomach in knots within seconds.

“It’s okay,” Jason rushed to assure you. He would get you out of this. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, I swear-”

Deathstroke let out a chuckle - one that sounded muffled, cold, robotic behind his mask.

“I can’t tell if you’re truly lying, following in the careless footsteps of your leader, or if you think that placating is the way to soothe someone in crisis.” He said, his tone entirely mocking. “There is no room for soothing here. Things most certainly will not be okay. Not unless you give me what I ask for,”

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” Jason spit back bitterly, posturing, trying his best to seem big and strong when he felt so utterly weak, so small in those moments.

“Dick Grayson.” Deathstroke announced. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Jason hesitated.

When Deathstroke felt this, he continued.

“And if you don’t, I won’t hesitate to dispose of this pathetic excuse for a Titan.” He added on, giving you a harsh kick in the back with his heavy boot. You cried out in pain, and Jason’s insides jolted.

It was a move that made Jason want to scream, and make threats that he knew he couldn’t live up to.

He deeply feared what Deathstroke meant when he said ‘dispose of’.

“Is Grayson really that important to you?”

Jason began to panic, his eyes flickering from Deathstroke’s imposing shadow to your terrified face once again.

His brain felt scrambled. He searched, thought hard, concentrated, and somehow - came up empty. For some stupid reason, he had no clue where Dick was. The Tower, Gotham, Detroit - the fucking idiot could be anywhere. And something else nagged in the back of Jason’s mind - even if he did know where Dick was, why the fuck should he tell this asshole? Deathstroke only wanted to kill Dick. Why should it be Jason’s choice to trade one life for another?

And even if he did tell Deathstroke where Dick was, there was no promise that Deathstroke wouldn’t kill you anyway as soon as he had the information.

No - Jason could save you some other way.

There had to be another way, some other way to get out of this, something else-

“Tick tock.” Deathstroke said, rushing Jason’s answer.

“Fuck you!” Jason barked back instinctively, still panicked.

And it was that panic that cost him everything.

“Well…” Deathstroke hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose they truly didn’t teach Junior Robin anything, did they?”

In seconds, he could sense it - Deathstroke could see right through Jason. He knew that Jason didn’t know the answers to his questions. And even if he did - he wasn’t going to give up Dick. He had a strange sense of loyalty to the person who had shit on him and failed to help him time and time again.

Before Jason could come up with whatever magical solution he was hoping would come to him, Deathstroke reached down, fisted the shoulder of your shirt, and brought you up onto your knees with a surprising strength. You continued to look Jason in the eyes with an intense panic while the man reached for his belt, unsheathing a sword that glinted in the little bit of light.

When you heard the sound of the metal slicing through the air, your muscles quaked with fear and you tried to get away - but you were too weak against him.

It was too late.

“No, no!” Jason cried out in protest, having nothing else to do but watch on in horror and hope that his pitiful cries could somehow stop this, tearing harshly against the bonds holding his wrists in place. “No, fuck you! Stop it!”

It happened too quickly.

The sword appeared through the front of your stomach, coated in bright red blood, and you let out a scream of anguish through the gag. Then suddenly, you were being shucked off the blade, thrown away like you were nothing, tossed back to the floor in a puddle of your own blood, limp and near lifeless. Deathstroke turned and left the room without a single care, shutting the door behind him, shutting out all of the light, leaving Jason in cold darkness once again.

And it was only then that the ropes on his wrists somehow loosened, allowing him to break free and rush to your bleeding body - too late.

Too fucking late.

Jason grabbed you up in his arms, hoisting you onto his lap. He was empty with shock. He didn’t know how to feel. He hated the contrast of your cold flesh and the heat of the blood rushing out of you and quickly covering him.

“Y/N, Y/N, baby, look at me,”

He found himself sobbing, forcefully turning your face toward him with a gloved hand, tearing the gag out of your mouth - your lips scarily pale, more than they ever should be.

“Fuck, fuck!”

He couldn’t contain his screams of anguish when he pressed a cheek closer to your lips and felt the shallow nature of your breath.

You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and it was all his fault. You were dying, and-

Jason awoke in a cold sweat.

He was shaking, frantically looking around in the dark, soon to realize that he wasn’t locked in a concrete room with your bloody corpse - he was in his bedroom in Gotham. He was at home in the comfortable, cushy Wayne Manor.

He had been having far too many nightmares since returning to Gotham. He wanted to blame it on your lack of presence in his bed, or the fact that Bruce had practically banned him from training, now that he was benched from being Robin. So he wasn’t getting nearly as much physical exercise as he used to and it left him anxious and not nearly as physically exhausted when he went to bed, making his sleep uneasy.

Bruce had suggested sleeping pills, but Jason hated the idea of the side effects. The potential of hallucinations didn’t seem like it would make his sleep any more pleasant.

Jason sat up on the edge of his bed, and turned on the lamp, wincing as the bright light prodded at his eyes, aggravating a headache he had that wouldn’t quit for days now. He reached for his phone, and almost unconsciously, brought up your contact.

He laughed when he saw the contact name you had given yourself - clearly something you had done as a joke right before you had left the Tower.

Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable

The two of you often changed each other’s names in your contacts as a joke. He guessed that this one was a joke about how you would be gone for a while, unable to fuck him. But he hated that you insisted that he still thought of you only as a Bootycall. He decided to change it to ‘Robin’s Ice Machine’ - one of his favourites, and what he kept you listed as in his contacts most often. (Even though he wasn’t sure if he was actually considered Robin anymore…)

He opened up his last text messages with you, and couldn’t help but smile when he re-read them.

He had sent you a simple ‘u up?’ around three o’clock in the morning, being sleepless and horny, and you had replied ‘don’t come in here with that fuckboy attitude unless you’re bringing snacks’.

And this had led to the two of you having the most amazing sex and eating junkfood afterwards. That was what he missed most about you. Simple nights. The ability to just be calm with you. Doing nothing with you and feeling so complete.

Jason began typing out a message.

‘I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I-’

Then, he realized how terribly sappy and stupid it sounded. And he thought about how much you would hate it. And even if you didn’t hate it, surely you would have no clue how to respond. The two of you weren’t like that. You weren’t those kind of people. He heaved a sigh, deleted the message, and then he got out of bed. He changed into some jogging pants and a sweatshirt and put on some running shoes.

If Bruce was going to ban him from being Robin, the least he could do was go on a run to get his head straight.

While he jogged through the cold night, Jason tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you. Tried to tell himself that if you decided not to come to Gotham after all, he would be just fine.

When he was finished with his run, standing at the kitchen counter chugging some way-too-expensive vitamin water that Bruce liked to buy, he pulled out his phone again and pulled up your contact. He considered calling you, and wondered what you were doing right then. He wondered if you would answer. He looked up what time it was in San Francisco, remembered you weren’t there, and then considered texting Gar to ask where you actually were - and then he went and took a long shower so he wouldn’t be able to touch his phone at all for a while.

…

When Jason went back to Gotham, Bruce made him go to therapy.

Jason thought that the entire thing was a colossal waste of time, but Bruce insisted that if he was ever going to wear the Robin mask again - he was going to get ‘cleared’ first.

Apparently, something about being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath, dropped off a building, and going to a funeral all in the span of a month doesn’t really scream of stability.

Jason was weary of Leslie at first.

He genuinely thought that her only job was to dig around for his secrets - any signs of his weakness, and report them back to Bruce. He still wasn’t all too trusting when she tried to assure him that whatever she said would stay between the two of them. But he wanted to get back to being Robin. He wanted to get back to doing his job. And if getting all mushy with her was the fastest way of doing that, then he would.

…

They were playing the stupid word association game again.

“Mother.” Leslie said, posing the first word.

“Fucker.” Jason said upon instinct, doing what he did best - deflecting from being too vulnerable by using crude humor.

Leslie gave him a deep frown, and he actually felt a pang of guilt at disappointing her.

She was one of the only adults in his life that he had ever felt bad for disappointing. Not because she put too many expectations on him - but because she didn’t. Because she expected pretty much nothing of him, and he wanted to show her that he could be great. He wanted to defy whatever bullshit Bruce had told her about him. He wanted to show her that he was more than worthy of being Robin again.

“Sorry.” He said timidly. “Habit.”

“It’s okay.” She said, forgiving him too easily. Jason wasn’t used to being forgiven.

Jason appreciated it - nobody had ever given him the chance to ‘try again’. Not even you. But he was glad about that. When you mocked him for his mistakes or called him out on his bullshit, it made him want to try harder. You were the only person in the world that he found himself actively trying for. Everyone else - he didn’t give a fuck what they thought of him. He knew that they always had preconceived notions of what he was - a screw-up, a street kid pretending while waltzing around in Robin’s costume.

But when you looked at him, you saw an asshole trying to be clever and you tore right through that persona, looking for something real. So even though he hated it - even though it made him wiggle and gape like a fish on land - he showed you more and more real parts of himself. And he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel when he was with you.

So, practicing the honesty that you had forced him to find within himself, Jason tried a more honest approach to Leslie’s word game.

“We can try again.” Leslie said, taking a small breath. “Mother.”

“Gone.” He said, announcing the first thing that truly came to mind when he thought of that word.

“Father.” Leslie moved on to the next word.

“Bruce.” Jason felt far too naked and vulnerable when saying this, but it was true.

Bruce was the closest thing to a father that he ever had.

And Jason knew that he was a bad son, constantly disappointing him - constantly failing to live up to the giant shadow that Dick had left behind.

“Robin.” She said.

“Freedom.” He easily responded.

“San Francisco.”

Jason felt like she was cheating at this point - trying to get him to weep and cry and spill all of his secrets like some kind of soap opera. He felt like she was purposefully pitching hits at his weak spots and waiting for him to block or be taken down.

“Mistake.” He said, trying his hardest not to flex back on his honesty.

He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that. If going there had been a mistake, or if he had made too many mistakes while he was there. Either way, it felt like the truth.

“Safe.” She announced the next word, and Jason was not at all surprised by the first thing that came to mind.

“Y/N.” He said your name without hesitation.

You were the only safe thing in his life. The only thing - the only person that ever truly made him feel safe. Sometimes he was terrified of losing you, or hurting you, or poisoning you as badly as he had done with so many other people. But when he was in your arms, it was so easy to forget about all of that.

You were safe.

Which was a fucking rare commodity in his life.

Leslie saw the look that came across his features - the look of fond longing mixed with gut wrenching fear. Naturally, she wanted to dig more into this. She knew that someone like Jason hadn’t grown up feeling safe, and she was curious why the concept of safety came to him now as a person’s name - and why he seemed so conflicted about it, about someone he had never even mentioned before.

“Who is Y/N?” Leslie asked. Jason didn’t immediately answer, so she prodded more. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? … Friend?”

Leslie didn’t presume to know Jason’s sexuality, or the gender of his special person (and she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said) - but beyond gender, for Jason, it was even more complicated than that.

Jason didn’t know what to call you when speaking about you to someone else.

A friend that he sometimes fucks? Should he even call you a friend?

You had tried to save his life, but before that, the two of you had never really been friendly. Mostly argumentative. But no matter how much the two of you argued, you had never hurt him the way that Dick had, or Bruce had. Or even the way that the other Titans had when they had accused him of all those things he hadn’t done.

Your arguments were playful. The two of you never said anything to each other that would actually dig deep, that was ever truly meant to hurt. Nothing like when the Titans had doubted Jason’s loyalty to the team - had accused him of truly trying to harm them. Your arguments with him always held a certain kind of passion. Every time you fired back against dumb shit that he said, even if you were blatantly disagreeing with him for sport - it meant that you cared.

Jason shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Can you… explain more?” Leslie asked, careful and curious.

“Shit’s complicated.” Jason mumbled, truly unsure what to say in order to describe the situation.

“Okay, well… whoever this special person is, whatever they mean to you… why is it that they make you feel safe?”

Now that was a million dollar question.

Jason had never really asked himself that before. The ‘why’.

“Well…”

He began trying to explain it, and found himself stuck for words. But Leslie was patient, and waited for him to find the right ones.

“It’s like…” Jason sighed, finding the whole thing very difficult. “It’s like Y/N knows what I am.”

“‘What you are’?” Leslie parroted back, using his own phrasing carefully. “And what would that be?”

“An asshole. Ya know - a fuck-up.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N has seen it first hand. They know me - they - they’ve seen all the worst parts of me, and… somehow, they don’t care. Y/N saw me at my worst and didn’t run.”

It was the best way that Jason could think to describe it. Everyone else who had seen him beaten down and broken - Dick, Bruce, the other Titans - they all saw him at his worst and wanted to dump him at the first possible opportunity. But you held onto him tighter and refused to let go. Even when he struggled in your loving hold like an animal caught in a trap - you still held onto him tighter than anyone else ever had.

And it made him feel a little less broken each time that he was with you.

“Okay.” Leslie smiled. “So - you find safety in not being judged? In… being allowed to be messy?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded.

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” She told him.

Jason found an odd sense of relief in this. There wasn’t a lot that was normal in his life.

“A lot of great relationships - whether they are friendships, or something more-”

Jason resisted the urge to speak up and say that you and him were definitely in the ‘something more’ category, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Not when it was yet to be official.

“-are founded on the truth. Founded on two people coming together because they find safety in being allowed to be their most authentic self with the other person. Feeling that they can make mistakes without being judged.” She explained this to him gently, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about you. “So if you have that with someone, you should embrace it. Embrace that feeling of safety.”

Jason definitely had that with you. Or - he had the start of that with you. And he wanted so badly to embrace. To see where a life with you would go. Maybe it was something he wanted even more badly than becoming Robin again.

Ultimately, Jason knew that he wanted to be loved, even at his worst. But he thought that even you weren’t capable of that. Nobody was.

“Next word.” Leslie looked back down at her list. “Fear.”

Jason didn’t take long with that one either.

“Y/N.”

Leslie looked utterly confused at this one.

But - he was too raw, and he ended the session before she could prod him to explain it further.

…

Jason was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for you.

He was afraid that if the time ever came, if you were ever in danger - he wasn’t going to be able to save you like you had tried to do for him. Thinking back on it, he had no clue how you had so boldly stepped into the line of fire, how you had dangled yourself out of a window that many stories high, desperately holding onto him.

You acted fearless, put yourself on the line just to save his life - ultimately, one that wasn’t worth saving.

And if he couldn’t do the same for you, then he wasn’t worth the risks you had taken for him at all.

It was this mindset that brought him to visiting Crane in prison. He worked hard to reverse manufacture the Fear Gas, wanting to be brave for you - not knowing that it would ultimately be his downfall.

…

Going to your grandmother’s house was certainly… interesting.

She was rich. Old money rich.

It was the type of wealth you had encountered very sparsely in your life. Initially, you had only met that type of rich person for the first time when you had met Dick - someone who drove a vintage Ashton Martin and said it was a ‘family heirloom’, yet thought nothing of trading it in for a minivan on a whim.

When you first moved into the Tower - a million dollar condo with advanced tech that you could barely comprehend at first, you didn’t easily feel comfortable among all of the shiny, lavish, modern furniture and the fancy touchscreens just to access everyday necessities. At the time, you had still been sporting an illegally jailbroken iPhone 6 that you had pickpocketed off some random guy a few years prior, and soon as Dick found out about that fact, he insisted on buying you a new phone that you had a very difficult time accepting because you were not at all good with gifts or ‘being spoiled’. You felt awkward accepting something that you hadn’t worked for.

It was one of the reasons that you so easily crumbled to Jason’s sexual advances.

You felt so fucking alone when you first started living in the Tower. Your queen sized bed with a brand new mattress and brand new sheets felt too big. Being so new, it felt too cold. Sometimes you went stir-crazy, thinking about how much the silverware in the kitchen cost and the fact that the fucking television had an ipad for a remote (which apparently also controlled the curtains and the lights in the living room) - fixating on how if you had pawned those things off, if could have fed so many hungry children.

At the time, you were desperate for a distraction. Jason became a very easy one to fall into. It was all too easy to fall asleep in his bed afterwards, because even if you hated the smell of Axe body wash and drying cum, sleeping beside someone, having a warm body at your back - it eased you so much more than sleeping in a big luxurious bed by yourself.

Your grandmother’s house was a different type of rich than the Tower was. Most definitely not modern; everything in her house was about as old as things can get - but still rich. It seemed that she was blatantly against technology, in fact. She didn’t seem to have a TV anywhere in the place, and all the phones were corded into the walls like it was the 80s, and she often mocked you for being so ‘obsessed’ with that ‘brick’ in your pocket (checking, looking for Jason’s calls or texts).

All of the furniture was far older than you, and well taken care of. Polished, the fabric clearly patched or reupholstered by professionals in places where it had worn down over time. She was the nick-nack type. Tall china cabinets full of fancy dishes with patterns on them, and the moment she caught you looking at them, she went on long winding stories about how the pieces were rare antiques that had been owned by some Duke from some place in Europe - again, something more expensive than you could comprehend or even really care about.

Like it had said in the letter, your grandmother had brain cancer.

She had a large tumor that was eventually going to kill her. Apparently money can buy a lot of things - but it can’t buy a miracle treatment. The tumor had invaded too much of her brain before it had been discovered, and operating on it at her age was more likely to mean death than recovery. And as she so gracefully put it, she would rather spend her last days ‘in grace and dignity’ than to be balding and ‘out of her mind’ - so she didn’t accept the only potentially helpful chemo treatment that was offered to her.

Apparently, one of her last wishes was to meet and spend time with the grandchild that she had ‘lost’ when your mother took you away all those years ago. Your grandmother seemed nice enough - she peppered you with cheek kisses and invited you to tea the moment that you came in through the door. She had even sent a limo to pick you up at the airport, which made you feel far too important and awkward, sitting alone in the back of the expensive vehicle with a classical music station playing that you felt too intimidated to attempt to change.

And although your paranoid instincts were waiting for some horror movie reveal, waiting for someone to drug you and tell you that she was going to perform some voodoo ritual on you in order to use your young, healthy body to keep living her life and that’s all she wanted you for - you stuck around. Because the longer you waited with baited breath, the less that seemed to be the case.

If the old woman wanted to spend her last weeks of life telling you winding stories about old dishes from Europe and drinking tea with you on her porch, then you would consider it a much needed vacation. You would simply sit down and listen.

…

“And you know, her granddaughter, she was a - a handmaiden for the Duchess of Yorke, and…”

When you looked over at your grandmother, she had fallen asleep mid-sentence, holding her tea cup at an odd angle that made the small amount of tea inside almost dribble out. Though she had been talking just a moment before, telling a long, winding story about the history of the vase holding the flowers in the middle of the table - she let out a deep snore, and you worried that she was going to drop her cup or spill tea in her lap.

Strangely, after such a short period of time being around her, you found yourself caring for the woman.

You put down your own cup and crept over to her, trying not to wake her, and gently wriggled the cup out of her hands to place it down on the table.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. When you realized what the sudden, frightening feeling was, you took a deep breath and calmed down. Your grandmother had asked you to turn it off and leave it in your room, a luxurious guest room that she had you staying in, but you couldn’t help yourself. You missed Jason and you were eagerly waiting to talk to him. You didn’t want to miss a potential call or text from him.

You made sure that your grandmother was sleeping peacefully (in the oddly upright position as it was) before you took out your phone and sat back in your own chair, looking to see who had texted you.

New message from The Flightless Bird

Yes, Jason had a very strange contact name in your phone. For a while, you had kept it as Hot Guy, as it had originally entered it, before changing it to (Not) Hot Guy as a joke. Then, when the two of you started living at the Tower, it became a running gag for you to steal each other’s phones whenever possible and change the contact name to something strange and odd, usually paired with a memey photo to jokingly represent the other person.

After the incident where he had free fallen from the building to his near death, he had changed his contact name in your phone to ‘The Flightless Bird’ - a terrible bit of dark humor. You loved it, and you had kept it since then.

Right before you had left for your flight out, you had snuck into his room and grabbed his phone while he had been sleeping, and changed your contact name in his phone from ‘Cold Hands, Hot Ass’ to ‘Bootycall Temporarily Unavailable’. Mostly because you didn’t need him sending you dickpics at three in the morning when he got bored. As much as you loved his cock, you thought about how weird it would be trying to get off in your grandmother’s house and Jason was so damn persistent and so damn tempting.

You did have to wonder what PG-13 texting would be like between the two of you. It had been incredibly rare. All of your text conversations before living together at the Tower were R-rated enough to send anybody who read them into a mental meltdown.

Before you could wonder if you should send him a message, making it clear that he wasn’t to pull any of his typical fuckboy antics, you opened his latest message, and a large smile ripped across your face.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I miss you like hell.’

You hated that you grinned uncontrollably and your stomach flipped like a teenager with a stupid crush, but you couldn’t help it. Jason just made you feel like that these days. Even just knowing that he had been missing you too - that he had been thinking about you. That was something that had you floating as you typed out your reply, trying not to seem too desperate in your response.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Gotham must be really boring if you miss hanging out with me.’

You sent back the simple message and opened another app, browsing while you waited for his reply, trying not to seem too eager.

Moments later, your phone buzzed again.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gotham is Gotham. It’s always been a boring shithole. The only time it’s not boring is when some fucker in a mask is trying to kill everyone.’

So very Jason. Before you could reply, he sent another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Plus, it’s not just hanging out with you that I miss. ;)’

Leave it to him to make even a virtual wink look so incredibly sleazy. Somehow, it brought up fond feelings within you because you had missed him so much.

You resisted the urge to tell him to cool it. Especially because your grandmother was sitting at the table with you. But you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and start sending his cock out of nowhere.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Oh, you make it sound so appealing for me to visit.’

Then you quickly added on:

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Dealing with homicidal psychos in costumes and you nagging me for a dick appointment. You on the Gotham tourism board?’

It was only a moment before your messages were seen, and you could practically hear Jason’s dry laughter in response, even though he was so far away. You felt validated when he sent you back several laughter emojis and then quickly typed out another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I am, actually. First stop on the tour - my bed. Second stop - night patrol. We spend a few hours kicking ass together. Which leads into our third stop - Little Tony’s downtown for some pizza. Aka the only reason I keep coming back to this shithole.’

You couldn’t help but to grin at the thought of it. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands, almost embarrassed at just how cheek-splitting your smile was - waiting for someone to call you out on it.

Your imagination ran away with you, and you couldn’t help but to feel warm, thinking about yourself living out his ideal day in Gotham. Being warm in his arms again, feeling his touch all over your body. Getting thoroughly fucked and only leaving his bed when the call of those in need beckoned you both to action.

You soon began picturing yourself in some spandex costume - something you didn’t yet have and made fun of Jason for wearing so often, perhaps slightly out of jealousy because he actually got the importance of a title and a suit and you didn’t yet have either. You imagined yourself in something themed around a hero name with an ice pun to suit your powers, kicking ass beside Jason while he proudly carried the mantle of Robin. The two of you taking down criminals like a perfectly paired team and topping off your night with pizza from a familiar place that Jason praised.

You began typing again.

… Robin’s Ice Machine is typing ….

‘You wanna make it a date, Jay?’

But you feared that it would sound too forward. That he was simply joking about all of it and you would seem too eager. So you deleted that message before you sent it and typed out something else instead.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You brave the streets of downtown Gotham just for pizza?’

The Flightless Bird: ‘It’s worth it.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I guess they probably give Robin the hero discount.’

You typed out the message and sent it without thinking.

You had been so absorbed in your own world over the past few weeks that you had no clue that Robin hadn’t been active on the streets of Gotham for a while. You hadn’t checked the news or hadn’t thought to check in with the biggest Robin fan you knew (Gar) to ask for updates.

But ever since Jason had gotten back to Gotham - Robin hadn’t seen a night of patrol, his costume quarantined away in the Batcave like Bruce considered him some kind of disease.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I wouldn’t know.’

You found this reply to be confusing, but waited patiently while Jason typed out more.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Bruce has me benched. He said I’m not allowed to take on Robin again until I get “cleared” by a fucking shrink. Like I’m a fucking war vet or something. He’s acting like I jumped off that building on purpose or some shit.’

You wanted to remind him that in a sense, he did. That he had begged you to let him go because he hadn’t thought that he was worth saving. But you didn’t want to rub salt into the wounds. Instead, you felt curious about his words and hoped that he wouldn’t clam up if you went prodding.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Bruce has you seeing a shrink?’

You were more than tense with curiosity at this point. More than anything, you wondered if it was actually helping Jason, or if he was just going through the motions, trying to please Bruce.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Someone named Leslie. Wants me to talk about my feelings and be vulnerable and all that type of bullshit.’

For once, this was something that Bruce had done that actually gave you hope for Jason’s future.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Maybe it’s not a bad idea.’

… The Flightless Bird is typing …

The typing bubbles appeared at the top of the screen a few times and then disappeared, indicating that Jason had read your message and was unsure about what to say in reply. Your stomach twisted up and you hated it. You hated to think that you might have insulted him.

Finally, after a few long moments, he sent something back.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

There it was. He was terrified that you thought he was broken. That because he had to go to therapy - it meant he was weak. That’s probably what Bruce thought. Or why he feared that he had been benched from being Robin.

You carefully chose your words as you replied.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know.’

You easily sent in a single message, and he read it quickly. And then, you moved on to adding more, clarifying your words.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know if you’re crazy or not, and I don’t care.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I know that you’re kind of fucked up - but so am I. And I don’t want to spend my time around anyone else because your kind of fucked up matches my fucked up really perfectly, and nobody else understands me like you do.’

You sent the messages, and then thought of something important to add.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘There is no normal well adjusted person in the world who would understand me like you do. Fuck normal people.’

(On the other end, Jason grinned and sighed with relief when he read these messages.)

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yeah. Fuck normal people.’

Jason easily echoed back the sentiment, and then he said something that you weren’t entirely expecting.

The Flightless Bird: ‘This therapy bullshit has got me thinking about a lot of things.’

You resisted the urge to make a ‘don’t hurt yourself’ joke - but you knew that he was sensitive, and you should encourage him to open up rather than make jokes. It was something that a version of yourself from a few months ago would have done without hesitation, but you absolutely knew that things between you and Jason had changed. Hopefully, for the better.

While you were mulling that over in your head, Jason typed out another message.

The Flightless Bird: ‘I don’t think my place is with Bruce anymore.’

You were curious what he meant by this. Did he want to quit being Robin? Had he come to realize that everything Dick said about Bruce was actually true?

When that argument came up, multiple times, you were never sure whose side to choose. You had never known the man personally, but you did find it strange that Jason seemed to idolize him and Dick seemed to resent him like he was some kind of cartoon villain. If anything, it made you wary and cautious of Bruce.

Especially because you knew that Jason had been intensely dependent on Bruce when they first met - he had just aged out of foster care, and he had the ‘choice’ of being homeless or becoming Robin. And who would really make that choice when three square a day, a giant mansion, and a shining costume are staring you in the face? Especially after everything else Jason had been through - all the adults who had given up on him, told him he was nothing. Then he was being presented with the chance to truly be something, someone so damn important.

Again, before you could question him, Jason saw that you had read the message and moved to explain himself further.

The Flightless Bird: ‘When I was at the Tower, I thought that being away from him…’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I thought that not being Robin was a punishment. But now I know that it was really good for me. And not for the reasons he thinks - not because I was benched and focusing on training.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I got to be away from Bruce. I got some distance from the way he made me think about myself - about Robin. I used to think that I was nothing without him. That I was just some bullshit street kid nobody and him picking me up and making me Robin was what MADE me something.’

Your heart ached reading this.

So that was why he idolized Bruce so much. He thought that he would be nothing without the old man. He didn’t see all of his own strength and determination that he put into Robin. He didn’t see all of his own bravery and resolute stubbornness.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Now I realize that I can be something without him.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I know it sounds like sappy bullshit, but you’re the one who helped me realize that I am something without him. That I can be great - even without Robin.’

You re-read the message a few times over, those words clutching at your throat, nearly bringing you to tears. For a long time, a part of you thought that you weren’t good for Jason. That you were just another nagging force in his life, another negativity. Then - you thought that you were just something he used to fill the time, to distract from the mental noise, as you did with him. And even then, as you realized that you needed him in other ways, and you might be coming to love him - you thought that he would never feel the same about you.

You thought that you had been fighting a losing battle, trying to comfort someone who didn’t want it, or wouldn’t accept it. But reading those words, feeling the rawness of their honesty - it flowed through you and hit you with a radical force.

You actually helped him.

You thought he was too stubborn and hard-headed to get through to, but hearing it directly from him - that was nice. It was more than nice, it was… it shook you to your core.

Your phone vibrated in your hand again, and you realized that you had gone too long without responding.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Too much?’

Clearly he thought that he had frightened you off.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Not too much.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Good. So you won’t think it’s too much if I tell you that I’ve been looking at apartments?’

Wait - what?

You had barely finished reading the message before he sent you a screenshot of an online listing - a picture of some shady, broken-down building. When you glanced at the address, you were almost sure that it was in downtown Gotham.

You wanted to believe that Jason was joking. But from the general tone of the conversation, he didn’t seem to be. He was eager to get away from Bruce, to be out on his own.

Your stomach curled with warmth at the thought of you and Jason living together, and this time not because of some half-baked superhero team. But by choice. This time because you were… what? Friends? Lovers?

You armed yourself with humor as you replied.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Jason, that’s downtown Gotham. It’s a shithole.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Oh, living with rich grandmama has you getting used to the fancy pants lifestyle now? Shall I start looking at mansions with 500 acres and golden swimming pools?’

You let out a small chuckle at his joke. You could practically hear him reciting the words with a fake snooty accent to drive home his point, but you eagerly felt the need to correct him.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘Hey, I grew up in shitholes too. You know a lot of the time I didn’t even have a roof, Jay.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yes, and you slept on a bed of bricks and ate dirt for dinner. Oliver Twist ass. You’re the only person I know who grew up more poor than I did.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘The correct tense is: poorer.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Yet you could afford grammar lessons? Damn.’

You couldn’t hold back a small bit of laughter at this. One of the things he hated most was you correcting his grammar, and you still found it highly amusing.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘My point is that all this fancy shit makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t even sit down on the furniture at my grandmother’s properly.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Grandmama will probably have it steam cleaned when you leave. To get the street rat smell out.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘Anyway, do you like the apartment or not?’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I don’t know. It looks… sketchy.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘It is. It’s a sketchy ass neighborhood.’

You started typing out a reply full of protests against this, wondering why he would want the two of you to live in a place that was full of drug dealers and other crime, but he beat you to it with another message - and when you read it, your heart warmed.

The Flightless Bird: ‘But - I thought me and you could help keep it safer.’

You grinned widely at this again.

You resisted the urge to correct his grammar again, wanting to tell him the tense was ‘you and I’. He was truly onto something here and you didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I’ll have to see it in person first.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘When I come to Gotham.’

You had no clue what stupid love bug had bitten you - but you were seriously agreeing to go view an apartment with Jason Todd. And you were more excited than anything else.

You finally resigned to the idea, feeling a certain kind of joy in making plans with him. You were entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of looking forward to the future. It was delightfully strange.

For the first time in your entire life, you felt giddy and optimistic for the future.

On the other end, Jason pumped an arm and cheered quietly to himself, knowing that he would hold you to the promise of coming to Gotham to visit him. Knowing that once he had you in town, he would somehow talk you into getting an apartment with him.

This was just the start of your life together. In his mind, this was just the first of many plans.

The Flightless Bird: ‘You could be on a plane tomorrow.’

The Flightless Bird: ‘I’ll pay for your ticket.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘You mean Daddy would?’

You knew Jason was rolling his eyes at this, and while he rushed to type out protests about Bruce being his ‘Daddy’, you corrected his initial thought.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘I can’t come tomorrow, anyway. My trip isn’t supposed to end for another week, at least.’

You didn’t want to tell him that you were getting attached to your grandmother, and you didn’t want to leave her yet. You thought he might mock you for developing those vulnerable familial attachments too quickly. And he would have been right.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Well, don’t take too long. I miss your stupid face.’

In your mind, the only proper response to this was to open your camera and take a picture of yourself - one crudely sticking your tongue out and flipping him off.

You sent it to him and received back several heart emojis.

The Flightless Bird: ‘Gorgeous as always, babe.’

Right then, Jason made that picture into his lockscreen.

You rolled your eyes, and bit your lip to suppress another stupid giddy smile.

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘And you’re a charming asshole, as always.’

Robin’s Ice Machine: ‘But I guess you’re mine.’

You sent the last part without much thought, feeling a twist in your gut when Jason read it and didn’t immediately reply. You stared at the screen for several long moments, waiting for something, wondering how he would react -

But then your attention was snapped away from your conversation with Jason when your grandmother let out a loud snort and woke from her nap.

“Playing with that brick again?” She said, sounding quite displeased.

Though you felt anxious, wondering if you had scared Jason away with your affection, you locked the screen and put the phone back into your pocket.

“Sometimes these ‘bricks’ can be useful.” You told her. “Maybe you should get one.”

You suggested it on the idea that you could communicate with her more easily once your trip was over, though you knew what her stance on the matter was. It didn’t hurt to try.

“Oh deary. I’d never want to strain my eyes looking at that. You know what they say - old dogs, and such.” She let out a small yawn. “Besides, I have heard they can give you cancer.”

You let out a snort of laughter. At least it was nice to know where your sense of dark humor came from.

…

Jason wasn’t sure why he did it.

Bruce told him not to. It should have been obvious that it was a trap. If history had anything to say about it - the Joker never made himself that obvious unless he wanted to get caught. Unless he was planning something and he wanted a lot of people to get caught up in the smoke.

Unless the Joker blatantly wanted attention, then he stayed hidden.

Maybe it was the Anti-Fear Gas. Maybe Jason needed to prove that he was brave. That he was good enough to take up the mantle of Robin again - even if he didn’t necessarily want it. Deep down, he needed to prove to himself that he was good enough for you. That he wasn’t just some broken bird that you needed to fix.

Jason thought the drug made him brave, but it probably just made him stupid. He thought this would be a good field test for it. But it just made his senses dull and useless to everything around him. It made him less aware of his surroundings, it blurred out all his fight or flight that nature intended.

When Bruce said that fear served him, he had no clue that this is what the old man meant.

The Anti-Fear Gas made perfect conditions for someone to sneak up on him.

He heard the cackling laughter - a sound coming from one of those stupid carnival machines, or from the Joker himself, he wasn’t sure - before he even realized what was going on. There was a bag over his head and some heavy, hazy drug forced under his nose.

He was stupid.

He thought he learned something from the incident with Doctor Light.

But it turns out that he was just as stupid as everyone accused him of being.

Because when he woke up, he was right back there. Tied to a chair. Confused. And when the Anti-Fear Gas started to wear off - he was scared. Utterly terrified. Just like he had been on that night.

Bruce was at some investors’ meeting halfway around the world. When Jason didn’t pick up his calls, didn’t answer his texts - he thought that Jason was still pissed off about the fight they had before he left. Bruce tried to give him distance. Without Alfred around to keep an eye on him, nobody reported Jason missing.

Nobody even noticed that he was gone.

…

When Jason stopped answering your texts, you got a horrible feeling in your gut.

The next time you looked at your phone, he had left you on read, and you had an utterly horrible feeling about it. Your stomach twisted over on itself, you became ripe with worry. You immediately wanted to cry to Dick about it, beg him to go searching for Jason’s tracker, or at the very least, call Bruce and ask to confirm where Jason was.

But technically - you had nothing to cry about.

Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He didn’t owe you anything. Especially not his time. He didn’t owe you an immediate reply to your messages. He wasn’t supposed to be at your beckoned call like a loyal dog.

You had to guess that he got busy training. That he was angry with Bruce, so he was spending extra hours at the gym, working off that anger. Maybe he had doubled down on the apartment search and he was somewhere in downtown Gotham, looking at more shitholes where he didn’t have any service.

At the very worst, you thought maybe you had scared him off with your affection. You thought maybe he was finally realizing that he didn’t want that big, scary thing with you, and he was getting ready to run away from it. Maybe he was debating blocking your number so that he didn’t have to break-off this non-relationship with you.

Maybe he had met someone else.

You went over the possibilities - made yourself sick, wondering why he wasn’t answering you.

But you had never considered the most sickening possibility of them all.

…

As usual, the Joker had seemingly no aim with his chaos.

He took Jason to some random location. Tied him up, hit him. Some of the Joker’s goons came and went. The Joker talked about potentially setting Jason out as ‘bait’ for the Bat to come and get. Jason wanted to tell him that his precious Bat was out of town, but he couldn’t risk revealing Bruce’s identity if he divulged that information.

If that was the Joker’s plan - using Jason as bait - he waited a long time to get on with it.

He spent the interim torturing Jason in increasingly creative ways.

Jason watched the sun rise and fall three different times - through a tiny window in whatever place they were keeping him. When darkness fell on the fourth day, his eyes were becoming too swollen to see light anymore.

Jason tried not to flinch when he heard footsteps approaching.

Every single inch of Jason’s body ached - he was sure that he had fingers broken, an arm broken. Broken ribs. He had several missing teeth, and he was leaking blood freely into his mouth. If he did get out of this, he would be severely fucked up for the rest of his life.

But he had a feeling that the Joker wasn’t going to let him out of this.

A cold hand moved across his forehead, and instinctively, he flinched away from it. The Joker tutted his tongue, and other voices came - echoes of laughter in the room, goons he had brought along with him.

“So shy, Little Birdie.” The Joker’s voice mocked him. “You weren’t so shy when you came looking for me… in fact, you were eager then. Eager, eager, eager. Eager to play my games. But you don’t wanna play now, do you?”

Jason was exhausted. But he knew that he couldn’t give up. If he stopped fighting, then the Joker had won.

“Fuck you.” Jason said, fighting past blood flowing in his mouth, deflated, clearly tired.

But he was still fighting.

The Joker laughed.

Cruel. Harsh.

“Well, I’ll take that as a sign - game on!”

The Joker clapped his hands together above Jason’s head, loudly. Jason hated that he flinched. There was another round of laughter from the goons.

Jason expected that the ‘game’ would be something violent. Removing his fingers, having the goons take turns to hit him harder. Perhaps they would strap him to some kind of target and make up point values for his different limbs and then have a knife throwing contest around him.

But no.

It seemed that they were growing bored of physical violence.

Something that Jason hadn’t even thought of - an utterly terrifying possibility.

With his eyes out of commission, he was relying on his ears more. He heard a small click, a button being pushed - if he wasn’t mistaken, it was someone trying to wake the lockscreen of a phone. It was very close to his head.

“My, my, that is a pretty one.” The Joker teased.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, causing a painful sting in his likely broken ribs as an even more painful realization hit him.

They had taken his phone. The Joker was talking about you.

He should never have made that picture of you into his lockscreen, you were too important, he had put you in danger -

“Tell me, does this pretty thing have a name?”

The Joker chuckled - Jason thought maybe the phone with your picture was being waved in front of his face, but he couldn’t quite see it.

“Oh wait! You can’t see it, can you?” The Joker seemed amused to remember this, his voice light and jaunty as the thought crossed his mind.

“Fuck you!” Jason spat out, much more energized now, refreshed with the might of protecting you - quite literally spitting blood, hopefully getting some on the clown.

The Joker simply let out another cackling laugh.

There was a ping. A text message coming in.

Let it be Bruce. Let it be Dick. Let it be Gar, for fuck’s sake. Anybody but you.

“You know, this friend of yours sends an awful lot of text messages.”

The Joker chuckled, putting emphasis on that word, clearly mocking Jason’s relationship status with you. Even with his psychotic mind, he could see that Jason loved you more than he cared to admit, and he was terrified to speak it aloud.

“‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’”

Jason’s skin crawled when the Joker read a text from you aloud.

You were worried.

Jason was beaten, dying because of the consequences of his own stupid actions, and you were worried.

“Well, that’s almost sweet.” The Joker sniggered. “You’ve been ignoring these for days now! That’s rude!”

Another round of laughter from the goons.

Jason was then struck with the realization that because of his current situation - idiotically kidnapped, tied to a chair, beaten - he had been ignoring you for days. He had unintentionally caused you to worry, on top of everything else. He had hurt you.

Had you sent someone looking for him? Would he actually somehow get out of this? Was there a chance that he might actually be rescued?

“I think we should answer. Your sweet little friend deserves some closure - a load off the mind, you know.”

The Joker’s voice took on a menacing dark tone as he said this.

Jason’s insides clenched with horror. They had tortured him in almost every way imaginable - taken it as far as they could without actually killing him. They had inflicted all kinds of pain on his body. Now they were going to torture his mind.

They were pulling you into their game as a fucked up pawn.

“No!” Jason tried to weakly protest, but then, entirely against his will, came the sound of his phone unlocking. “Fuck you!”

He hadn’t put a password on it yet. It was relatively new - a present Bruce had gotten him when he had come back to Gotham. A bid to buy his affection. He hadn’t gotten around to putting a password on it yet.

Another stupid mistake.

Jason nearly lost his breath when he heard ringing. The Joker wasn’t just going to reply to your text messages - he was calling you.

Whatever happened to Jason next - whatever torture, whatever pain they inflicted upon him - they were going to make you listen.

…

One thing you had come to learn over the past week: rich people have a lot of peculiar habits.

Your grandmother would insist that you be there for afternoon tea at three o’clock sharp, and apparently having too much sugar in your tea was considered rude, because it was a reflection of the quality of the tea that the host had presented you with. She insisted that you ‘dress for dinner’ - which meant that you weren’t allowed to wear sweatpants at her formal dining table, and even ripped jeans were frowned upon. Also, sitting with your feet curled underneath you at the dining table caused her glare at you - a lot.

But as much as she had scolded you for your brutish, poor people ways - you had managed to bring her around to some of your ways of life. You showed her how binging reality shows could be fun, and that not all types of processed junk food were terribly beyond her taste.

It was probably why you were putting up with this now. The garden party.

You were surprised that she had been able to put together a party this elaborate so quickly. But she said that it was necessary because she had insisted that she wanted you to meet all of her friends.

You thought that it would be just a few people; no more than would fill up the dozen chairs that she had at her exceedingly large fancy dining table. But you grew more anxious as cars filled the long driveway and more people filled the ‘garden’ out back, picking at tables that had been set up with expensive catered food and sipping on drinks that were being poured by a bartender that had been highered last minute.

Of course - your grandmother insisted on picking an outfit for you. She didn’t bring herself to care where exactly on the gender spectrum you fell - she didn’t even bring up your birth gender at all, which surprised you, since she had known you as a baby. She simply took it at face value when you introduced yourself to her by name and the two of you easily rolled with things from there. It was strange for an old woman, especially one so caught up in the history of all the objects in her home. But you supposed that those deathbed regrets ran deep and she preferred to spend this time with you actually embracing you instead of arguing with you and potentially driving you away.

She insisted on picking your clothes because she simply hated your graphic band tee shirts and your ripped jeans, and insisted that you wear something ‘light and airy’ worthy of a garden party. All she had asked before she consulted her personal shopper was if you had a preference of pants or a skirt. And you couldn’t bring yourself to protest, even when you saw the pastel colours that you normally would have utterly hated.

You weren’t sure why you were trying so hard to impress someone that you barely knew - someone you could barely even call family. Perhaps it was because your mother had treated you so poorly - she had never cared if you were clothed or fed, so having someone buy you expensive new clothes after caring to have ‘family dinner’ with you every night, it was touching. Especially considering that she was throwing an entire party in your honor when your mother hadn’t even wished you ‘happy birthday’ most years - often forgot the day and let it pass without acknowledgment at all.

Everything your grandmother was going for you, it made you feel like you truly mattered for the first time in your young life.

Perhaps for the first time since Jason had insisted on stitching up your wound - after he had told you that you being hurt on his behalf in the first place was such a terrible crime. But you didn’t want to think about that too much because you missed him so terribly.

You did find yourself picky at the itchy, slightly too tight collar as you went downstairs to join the other guests. Your grandmother paraded you around, introduced you to different people. And soon, she abandoned you near one of the snack tables when she was called over by some ‘business associate’.

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull out your phone and check - your stomach sank when you saw that there was still nothing from Jason.

Entirely against your own will, you began typing.

‘Jason, I’m worried about you. Please text me back when you can. I know it’s stupid to be worried just cause I haven’t heard from you in a few days, but Gotham is a stupid shithole and I wanna know that you haven’t been eaten by a giant mutant crocodile or something.’

You hoped that he would reply soon. Even if it was telling you to fuck off.

You hated when you got sucked into another conversation with more people you didn’t know. You quickly found yourself mentally begging to be released from the hell as more and more people asked you questions that you couldn’t even begin to form the answers to.

“What are your top three?” One of the women asked you, looking at you with precise, dissecting eyes.

‘Top three what?’ You wanted to shriek.

“My Brandon is going to Dartmouth after summering in Metropolis. Doing a lot of volunteer work there - an angel, he is.”

The other women standing around you all nodded, giving approving looks with strangely fake smiles, and all you could do was nod and smile along with them.

‘Summering? Since when is that a verb?’

You wished more than anything that Jason was there with you. Not only would he pull you aside and relentlessly laugh at these plastic-y women with you, but you knew that he would be able to save you from this. He did have a bit more experience being around rich people because of Bruce, and he would actually be able to tell you what the hell they were saying. He would be able to translate all this shit to ‘Oliver Twist’ for you so that you wouldn’t feel like you were suddenly living on some alien planet.

“Where do you usually summer? When you’re not with your grandmother, that is?”

You felt more panic rise in you as another question was directed at you, desperately racking your brain for an answer that wouldn’t make you sound stupidly out of place to them.

Luckily, before you had to stumble your way through the interaction, your phone began to vibrate in the pocket of the overly expensive blazer that your grandmother had made you wear. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief at the chance for distraction - even though it was probably a spam call, or Gar, calling to complain that he was lonely because Rachel wasn’t back from her trip yet. (Without you and Jason there, and with Rachel extending her stay on Themyscira, he near constantly complained to you that he was lonely, and that he hated everyone leaving.)

But still, you jumped at the chance to escape the many pairs of eyes, staring at you, studying your every move like you were a very fascinating bug. Looking at you like you were something that didn’t belong there.

“I have to take this.” You grinned at them, reaching to grab your phone out of your pocket.

You moved away from the group of clucking hens, hoping for some privacy in the conversation. Even if it was just Gar, you would use this opportunity to stall for as long as possible before being pulled back into the party.

When you took your phone out and saw Jason’s contact photo lighting up the screen, you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke across your cheeks. It was a picture of him sticking his tongue out that you had taken using the front facing camera when he had been annoying you over your shoulder one day.

Pure, unadulterated joy. That stupid teenager crush igniting your insides yet again.

You moved toward the refreshment table, knowing that you looked like an idiot as you stared down at your phone, smiling so widely.

You knew that you were in too deep. That you probably felt far more deeply for him than he did for you - that you would have dared to call it that deep, ‘tied together forever’ thing, and he probably wouldn’t.

But you were caring less and less each day. You were beginning not to care if he broke your heart.

At this point, you were just along for the ride.

A very small voice in the back of your head told you that maybe he was calling to break things off with you. Maybe, all this time that he had gone without speaking to you, he had been waiting, working up the courage, finding the right words to tell you that he was truly done with you.

But no. That wouldn’t be the case.

He had simply been busy. And now, he was calling to tell you what a hectic, shitty few days it had been, how much he had missed you -

“Hey, asshole. I don’t know if you leeched some of Rach’s psychic powers, but you called just in time to save me.”

You breathed into the receiver as soon as you picked up, throwing out a casual greeting, knowing that Jason wouldn’t be offended by the words.

“I always hesitate to say that you were right, but I am beginning to regret not taking you up on that offer to come with me. You should see some of these rich, stuck-up snobs - you would be laughing your ass off if you were here right now.”

There was a long silence.

Your stomach dropped.

On the other end, you had no clue that Jason felt that exact same sting of regret about not coming with you. If he had - the two of you could have been safe and happy together.

Fear clutched at your throat.

It was a basic instinct, but you knew that the silence wasn’t a good thing. You thought that all of your worst fears were about to come true. That Jason was about to tell you that he was truly done with you, that he never actually felt anything for you in the first place, and he was just working up the courage to speak the words aloud.

But it was so much worse than that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

A single, ragged breath.

Air struggling to get in and out of his lungs past broken bone - pain.

Standing in the radiance of a warm, pleasant afternoon, with people mingling happily all around you - all the life drained from you. All the happiness sucked out of the world in a matter of seconds.

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, wanted to cry out for help.

There was a unique cruelty in the fact that everyone else in the garden simply went on, chatting, laughing, engaging in merriment. The fact that they went about their stupid party, having no clue that a world away, in Gotham - a great tragedy was taking place.

All of those rich assholes sipped their drinks and carried on with their day, having no clue that your world was about to end.

“Jason?”

You knew that your voice was so utterly wounded, small and terrified. You made no effort to hide it.

There was a harsh sound - a collision of flesh, a groan. A hit. It was a sound that somehow made your guts twist in on themselves even more.

“Go on, Robin.”

That voice wasn’t Jason. It wasn’t someone you knew. It was wicked and harsh and made you want to scream. All you could do was swallow around a thick dryness that had formed in your throat - like sandpaper had been put there.

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t do anything more than listen.

“Go on, answer your pretty friend.”

Jason sucked in another harsh breath, and sputtered out a cough.

“I - I fucked up.” Jason said, his voice ragged. “I fucked up big time.”

You felt a hot, wet tear run down your face before you realized that you were crying. Your legs were filled with concrete and you felt the world spinning on its axis. It was a miracle that you managed to stay standing upright.

You couldn’t even comprehend how you might have looked to someone else in those moments, and truthfully it didn’t matter. No one else at the party even noticed the terrible grief that had struck you. They simply carried on, absorbed in their own little world.

“Jason?”

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had given up Jason’s secret identity - the name behind the Robin mask. You were too busy quaking with fear, your chest tight as you considered: this might actually be the end of his life.

And you couldn’t do anything about it.

What the fuck could you do about it?

“What happened?” You rushed to ask, your voice full of breath, full of fear. “What’s happening?”

More tears poured down your face, and you swallowed around the tightness of your throat, forcing a clearness to be able to speak.

“I made a mistake.” Jason said, his voice coming out in a tight wheeze as he struggled to breathe. “I - I never should have gotten you involved in this.”

You knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for letting you get close to him. For giving you the potential to get hurt.

“No!” You easily argued back. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You decided right then and there - maybe you had decided a long time ago - if he broke your heart by leaving you alone, by dying, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he left you fucked up and broken. All of the time the two of you had spent together - it had all been worth it.

You needed him to know that. You needed him to know.

“Jason, I-”

You hesitated for a moment before you said it. Before you crossed that line into the abyss. Your voice clouded with the thickness of your tears when you finally said the words.

“I love you.”

When he heard it, Jason let out a wounded howl.

You thought that he had been stabbed. You let out a sob of your own, echoing his pain.

You did not know that it was these words alone that damned him. It was something that hurt him more than any baseball bat crashing down over his knees or any brass knuckles against his jaw ever could have.

Moments before his death, you sentenced him to the worst crime of all - breaking your heart. Now, with his own foolish choices, he had damned you to a life without the one you loved. You had sentenced him to dying with the knowledge that he was the worst piece of shit to ever touch your life. That he truly had rotted everything good about you - just like he had promised.

You could have chosen anyone else, and you chose to love the stupid, fucked up, idiotic Jason Todd. The man who was about to die due to his own incompetence.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” The stranger’s voice was there again, mocking you.

You weren’t surprised that Jason didn’t say it back - but you hoped that your words, that you saying it brought some comfort to him.

You were about to open your mouth again, about to promise that you would find him and rescue him in time.

And then another pillar of hell struck you.

“Now, it’s time for the little birdie to go bye-bye.”

You couldn’t even muster your voice again, couldn’t scream out against this. Your throat was swollen shut, like an allergic reaction to the tragedy as it happened.

There was a silence - a second of your life that swallowed you whole like an abyss of fifty endless years.

And then, that silence was cut through by the worst sound you had ever been forced to hear.

A gunshot.

The sound was distinctive, clear as day.

“Jason?!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs - this time, undeniably drawing attention to yourself. Even the plastic party goers couldn’t ignore a tragedy of this magnitude. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as multiple of their heads snapped toward you, taking in the now utterly disheveled sight of you, crying, clutching at your phone like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Jason?!” You screamed again, your voice nagging into a hopelessly dead line.

You didn’t know that they had smashed Jason’s phone, disposing of it now that they were done with their game.

Upon instinct, you ran. Your legs were heavy and felt stupid and you stumbled into multiple people on your way into the house, causing murmurs as the crowd stared at you. You didn’t care. You were panicked, shaking, confused. You made your way up to the guest bedroom that you had been staying in and began frantically shoving your things back into your bag, half-packed when you finally realized that you had no clue where you were going.

And you collapsed onto the floor, then. Your whole body was weak, overtaken by shock. Clueless and terrified, your chest was barely taking in breath and your own phone slipped out of your shaking hand when you tried to think of your next move.

For a long time - what felt like endless hours, days - you could do nothing but sit there and desperately try to suck air into your lungs, playing the gunshot sound over and over again in your mind.

They shot Jason. They shot Jason. They had shot Jason.

Your brain could hardly process it.

One of your grandmother’s caretakers knocked on the bedroom door and you couldn’t gather words to answer. When she asked you what had happened, you couldn’t even begin to explain. That was when you realized that you had needed concrete answers yourself. So as she left the room to make you some peppermint tea ‘for your nerves’, you forced your shaking hands to work, and you grabbed up your phone again.

You needed to call Dick.

He didn’t pick up. Then you called Kory. No dice. Then you called Gar - you could hear the bustle of a crime scene in the background, but he sounded okay. He was talking in his usual bright, excited voice. The Titans had likely just made a bust. He was excited to be making a difference, helping people.

You sucked down breath and tripped over your own words trying to explain it. Jason was in trouble - a gunshot, he was hurt. He was dead. Gar barely understood, tried arguing against you because you sounded hysterical. But he passed the phone to Dick at your insistence. Dick made sense of your words, and made you wait fifteen long painful minutes until he was back in front of the computer at Titans Tower to give you some kind of answer.

Jason’s tracker was online. It was in Gotham. It was at the Amusement Mile.

It wasn’t picking up any heat signature from Jason’s body. That only meant one thing: his body was cold.

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jason’s - he’s gone.”

...

A/N: This is part one of two, and I do have the second part ready to go in my drafts.

Based on the original, Emergency Contact, having around 400 notes, and based on the fact that Jason Todd is a popular character:

I would like to see around 50 reblogs and around 50 comments on this before I post the next part.

Which I do think is a modest ask - if the same amount of people who enjoyed the original show up to read this sequel, then I will be asking one quarter of those people to comment or reblog. And I say 'around' because if I see a good amount of people commenting and reblogging, even if we don't meet the goal, then I will post the next part more quickly.

(I just don't want another incident to happen where people stop commenting immediately as the goal is met and then I end up with 30 comments and 900 likes, clearly showing that people don't care to support a fic even if they clearly enjoyed it.)

However, if you are going to comment, please do not just comment asking for the next part or asking when the next part will be posted, please comment about the body of work that has already been written and posted. I find it inconsiderate and stressful when people only ask for updates. I much prefer to spark a discussion about the existing work that has been written.

Anyway - I am just insanely proud of this fic and I really want to hear what you guys think of it so far!! So please do comment, reblog and rant in the tags, or come to my inbox and chat with me on anon if you're shy. I always wanna hear from fellow Jason Todd lovers and fellow Titans enjoyers.

216 notes · View notes