#I assure you I understand nothing at this exam

[clockwork-stars]

Finally succeeding my second year of uni with a 15,15/20 general average 🫶

[artytaeh]

slytherin boys' reaction to being interrupted while you were speaking.

so, the thing is: this week has been terrible and the potato manifestation did NOT work. </3 not only did my exam went terribly, but i'm really sick too— i'm so sorry for taking so long with the requests! 🤕

mattheo riddle x reader, theodore nott x reader, lorenzo berkshire x reader, draco malfoy x reader, blaise zabini x reader. fluff! i hope you enjoy. 🌷

�� ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE FUCKS OUT OF THE CONVERSATION IMMEDIATELY. this man couldn't be bothered to continue to listen to the rest of the group, focusing his attention on you now. due to his introvert nature and having been a quieter kid during his first two years at hogwarts, theo understands the struggle. so, hand shoved on his pocket, theo reaches to brush his fingers on your cheek, gently calling your attention to him, and only him. 'you were saying? i want to hear the rest of it.', theo assures you, getting your attention out of the group of people (and distracting you from the embarrassment / hurt from being ignored), to have a conversation with him and only him. would enjoy the attention.

if the two of you are really close friends or in a relationship, theo would talk with those people separately; if the group was his slytherin friends, then theo would warn them to be more attentive about not interrupting you. would be mad if someone called you or him dramatic about it.

MATTHEO WOULD HAVE ABSOLUTELY NONE OF THIS, and stop this fuckery the same second it started. this man wouldn't have private talks or warnings like theodore did; the second someone interrupts you and your voice fades, mattheo will slap the back of their heads (if it's a boy) or nudge them with his elbow (if it's a girl), telling them to shut the hell up, since you were speaking first. then, with everyone silent, he'd nod at you, gesturing for you to continue what you were saying: 'go on babe, you weren't finished.'

this could feel so embarrassing, though; having this group of people all silent and staring at you, for the uhm, wrong reasons? if you complain or talk to mattheo about this, he'll just shrug, totally unbothered. 'can't fucking stand pick me people needing to shout and interrupt others. they're the ones who should be embarrassed, anyway.' and yes, he'll do it again. and again, and again. no one walks over his girl, nuh-huh.

LORENZO WOULD SILENTLY TAKE CARE OF THIS, with his passive-aggressive attitude. no one disrespects you, or his friends, in front of lorenzo without him having a say about it. would wrap his arm around your shoulders, a silent yet protective shield, as he lets out a little laugh. should anyone question it, lorenzo nods in the direction of the one who interrupted you: 'nothing, it's just funny how this one feels so important to the point of interrupting others. go on, tell us what's so important to interrupt my girl.' — an invitation for the said person to fuck off, because honestly, even the people around you would give them side glances, now that lorenzo remarks how rude that actually is.

i said it once and i'll say it again: this man is a bit of a bitch, and i love him for it. check his headcanons here!

DRACO WOULD TAKE THIS PERSONALLY, and be so, or more, offended on your behalf. you see, draco perceives that anything done or said to you, is a direct attack to him— something about growing up and seeing how lucius malfoy always protected his mother, narcissa malfoy, that stirs up protectiveness over his partner. like mattheo, draco directly takes care of the matter; would turn his attention to you, talking louder than whoever interrupted your words: 'darling, you didn't finish what you were saying. some deaf idiot must have not heard you talking first.' and, you see, draco malfoy is quite the queen bee of slytherin, so that alone is more than practice to deal with someone trying to step over you— and by extension, him.

actually so, so mean to whoever thinks that it's funny to be the slightest rude or disrespectful to you; no one will make fun of you in draco's presence. i mentioned this here too!

BLAISE WOULD DISCONNECT FROM THE CONVERSATION, very similar to theodore. the first thing blaise worries about, is your well-being— your feelings, caring if you're hurt and wanting to make sure that you won't take it personally. blaise offers you a smile, resting his hand on the back of your hand and massaging there, incredibly gentle to not mess up your hair: 'don't mind them, pretty girl; these idiots are way worse after some drinks, trust me. wanna tell me what you were saying? i'm all ears.' if you feel like only talking to him, blaise will have his full attention on you, catching up with his friends afterwards.

would silently reassure you with physical touch. as in, guiding you to stand in front of him, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and caressing them, while resting his chin on your head. sometimes, blaise can be the center of a conversation, with his great humor; other times, he's more of a listener. would always have 60% of his attention on you, and 40% on the group.

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— the first slytherin boys react i've done, me thinks? once again tysm for reading, and requesting! i'll tend to them as soon as possible. (i'm so sorry i'm a perfectionist. 💔)

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[oh-starstarstar]

Pretty When You Cry. | r.l. x reader

18+ post.

Angry, full-moon Remus. He's mean, beware. Like, really mean.

This always happened near the full moon.

You'd see him stressed out to no avail; cramming up all the books around him as if it was an exam, behaving like a gruff old man, and sometimes going without talking to you for an entire day.

Right now, you made a mistake. Doesn't happen usually. Even if it does, he's too sweet to say anything even if he is offended. But near the full moon?

Oh, no. Hell no. He's staring right at you, gritting his teeth so hard that the muscle in his head visibly contracts. You timidly close the door behind you, lip trapped between teeth, eyes not looking directly at his.

"Remus?" you say after waiting. He doesn't respond. You repeat yourself, lowering the volume this time, cornering yourself against the wall.

"What's next? What? You're gonna fuck someone right in front of me?"

You fidget with your fingers, ogling at the ground. You'd just kissed a guy. One he particularly loathed. It wasn't your fault―it was a game of truth or dare, and, well, you tried telling them to not force you, but they pressurized you anyways, particularly because they thought it would be fun to annoy Remus. So you leaned in, pecked his lips, and backed off immediately. You looked at Remus for assurance. You hoped he'd know that it was just a dare. Of course, he knew it, he even heard you refuse multiple times, but his anger was the more prominently functioning one here.

You walk up to him. "You know it was dare. I told them to fuck off so many times,"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well―" he turns around, almost as if he doesn't understand what to say or do anymore. He puts both his hands against the wall, leaning forward. Then he turns around again, face in his hands, clearly too frustrated to even get a word out. 

Maybe he'll spend hours in the library again.

Maybe he'll go smoke excessively again.

Maybe he'll start to become insecure about himself, again.

And you really don't want any of those things happening. You don't like seeing him like that. "You can take your anger out on me." You blurt before you even double-check your words.

"Hm?" He turns to you, confused, frowning, chest heaving.

"Take your anger out on me, Remus."

"What the fuck?" he's so confused. You never fuck whenever it's the full moon. He's said it multiple times, he loses control during that time of the month. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. "I'm not doing that,"

"It's fine if you don't want to, but just know, I'm okay with it. I can handle some hurt, Remus, promise. It's better than torturing yourself."

He considers your words in silence. He stands there, visibly conflicted, staring at you. "I'll hurt you." he turns away, hands running through his hair. 

"And I'd probably like that," you smirk lightly, hoping to lighten up the mood a little bit. You get no reaction from him except another huff, causing you to bite your lip in anticipation.

And then he turns back, hand grabbing your jaw harshly to push his lips against yours. It's harsh, it's mean, it's nothing like him, but you love it. Oh, you sure do. You whimper into the kiss, trying to move your head away to breathe. He doesn't let you go - his grip is harsh. He bites on your lip, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out in pain against his mouth.

He scoffs, pulling back. With your jaw still in his hands, he tilts your head up. "Look? You're crying at that. And this was, what, just a fucking kiss?"

"I wasn't crying," You pant. "Promise, I can take it," you assure him, both your hands cupping his on your jaw.

He stares at you. He's not one to be very, uhm, cooperative when it comes to his anger and the moon. His most preferred option is often caging himself away, mentally and physically. So you don't expect him to talk. There's two things that could happen; he either walks right out of that door, fuming, or―

"Safeword?"

"The usual. Red."

And then before you can comprehend, his hand rapidly moved down around your throat, his lips on yours.

His hand grabs your arms, 

"Shut up."

In a fit of anger, he doesn't bother slowing the both of you down by taking extra time to remove any clothes. Instead, he tears your shirt right down to the last button. 

"Why would you do that?!" You gasp, instinctively moving your hands to cover yourself. And though you don't realise it right away, but Remus pauses to look at you right then. You can't make out whether it's fury or admiration, but then he unloops his tie, roughly grabbing your jaw and shoving it into your mouth.

It's a mean gesture, especially for his standards, so it makes you look up at him with your doe-eyes in confusion.

"I told you to shut up. Already made it clear, and I'm not in the mood to listen to your shit at all today." He says, bending down to put his head in the crook of your neck, biting down on your collarbone as you whimper in pain. 

His nails roughly drag down your skin, making you squirm. This time, when you whimper, his head snaps up. His eyes stare dangerously at you. “One more time, and I’ll make you cry.”

So you shut up. It’s a little fucked up, but you are more turned on than you have ever been before. One thing’s obvious—he’s not usually rough. He’s gentle, calm, treating you like you’re made of glass. So this switch of his makes you throb. 

He lifts your one thigh up, putting it on his shoulder. As anger-driven as he is now, it takes him barely any time to enter you. Though your eyes roll to the back, farthest they can, you don’t make a single noise. You’ve never seen this side of his so… don’t wanna test it much, right?

As he begins thrusting in you, you don’t get time to adjust. His mouth is all over you, kissing, licking, biting; it’s wild—filthy, almost. Yet you can’t get yourself to hate it. Something about this sex-crazed version of his makes you so much wetter. Sure, his gentleness is lovely as lovely gets, but a girl needs her fair-share of fucked up stuff. 

“I swear I wanted to take you right there and show him. That smug bastard,” he groans. He roughly thrusts up, making you choke a moan. You look up at him innocently, just as you know it’s going to be hard to stay quiet. 

“What, something to say?” He pulls his tie out of your mouth, throwing it to the side.

You take the opportunity. “Sorry, I—” another thrust. “I’m sorry,”

His hand snakes up your throat. “Sorry’s gonna fix this?” he asks. 

You shake your head, feeling him fold you even more. “Can’t— can’t stay quiet for lo—” you let out a loud moan, hoping he’d at least casted muffliato on his way in. (...he hadn’t.)

“Simple fucking thing, and you can’t follow it? Can’t even shut up?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whine, body jolting with his thrusts, your high chasing you. You clench around him, the action having a very clear effect on him. He furrows his brows, head bowing down. 

“Fuck.” he groans lowly. “You gonna cum?”

You nod. You close your eyes, bite your lips, waiting for the moment. He gets faster, thrusts harder, hand even moving down to rub at your clit. Then, he just… stops.

“Fuck!” you scream. Your leg trembles hard, tears at the corner of your eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why’d you do that?” he had never done that. Ever. If anything, his main motive was to make you come every time you did it. 

He grabs your jaw roughly. “Gonna behave from now on?”

You nod. “Sorry, please, please, please,”

He snakes his hand down, rubbing at your clit. “Learnt your lesson?”

You nod. 

“Gonna shut up like I told you to?”

You nod. 

Finally, finally, your high chases you again. This time, you look at him with pleading eyes, as if apologising to him. You hip jerks up, legs shaking. 

“There you go,” he says, increasing the speed of his fingers. The knot in your stomach tightens, your whole body heating up. 

He stops. He fucking stops. 

This time, you try your best to cry quietly into the pillow beside you, body jolting.

“Stop it,” he says harshly.

You open your eyes to look at him. “Huh?”

“Stop that, the fucking sobbing.”

He manouvers you onto his lap, lifting you up and slamming you down on his dick. Instinctively, you head is buried in his neck, soft mewls muffled by his skin. 

When his hands tire, he simply lets you sit on his lap and instead lifts his own hips. Your nails dig into his hands which are still on your hip (to keep you from moving your hips away), soft moans turning into screams. 

You struggle in his grip. He grips your hair harshly, pulling you out of the crook of his neck.  "Yeah, yeah, darling. Push me once more, and I'll tie you up and keep going faster till you cry and beg me to stop. Then we'll see how much you can push, hm?" he seethes. 

Oh.

But fuck, the ecstacy you're feeling isn't going to let you stay still for long. You tremble at his touch, breathily moaning into his neck. At this point, you are overstimulated, too. 

This time, when his hand starts rubbing your clit, your head goes into the crook of his neck to bite onto his skin. 

“I swear, I wanna stop again. Wanna make you suffer.”

You shake your head vigorously, “No, no, no, please,” you begin to sob. Sob, really. 

In a fucked up way, it turns him on. During the full-moon, he’s not really… him. Some of his harsher sides come to play. So now, he wants to see you cry. 

So he stops. 

You sob lowly in his neck, body trembling. “Why,” you whimper. “please, Remus, please,”

“Sorry, darling. Just wanted to see those pretty little tears of yours.”

pussy down bad, huh?

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡

content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3

a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.

-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.

-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.

-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.

-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.

-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.

-it was history from there.

-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.

-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.

-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.

-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.

-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.

-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too

-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.

-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.

[i23kazu]

JUST GO TO SLEEP ALREADY!

characters. neuvillette & wriothesley x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. preparing for my new school term............ thoughts n prayers peace n love | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

neuvillette, who watches you almost work yourself to the brink of tears because of your exams...

he doesn't... exactly know how to react. should he leave you alone? should he ask you to go to bed? was this even normal, in the first place?

after watching the circles under your eyes get more and more defined, he makes up his mind.

"my dear, please, for your own health's sake... go to sleep. i promise that things will be better for you when you wake up refreshed."

but this won't do! your paper needs to be turned in tomorrow night, and you've barely written the first 1000 words. it's not alright.

you want to cry.

neuvillette notices it, though. he sits down next to you, not saying a word.

"i'm stressed, neuvillette." you mumble, looking down at your laptop.

"i know that. but i can assure you that you're not going to get anything done when you're in such a state. i hate to see your sunshine get dulled, my dove – i promise, that when we wake up, i'll work with you." he smiles so sweetly, you want to burst into tears right then and there.

okay, maybe you did burst into tears right then and there.

he gathers you in his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. his voice is sweet and compassionate, his words contrasting his being – "i don't know what to say." turns into something that was exactly what you needed.

for a person who doesn't understand the complexity of human emotions and how they work ... neuvillette cares for you in a way that's wonderful.

"alright, alright, i'll go to bed. you promise you'll work with me tomorrow?" you sleepily whine, rubbing the remnants of your tears away from your eyes and closing your laptop.

"i promise, my dear."

wriothesley, who stares at you staring at your laptop. he's convinced that you haven't moved from that position in... maybe an hour?

were you even alive at this point?

no

"can you please just stop working and get to bed already?" wriothesley sighs.

"but i can't! it's due tomorrow. and i'm literally, like, about halfway through." you rub your eyes.

wriothesley wants to roll his eyes goodnaturedly at you. but he doesn't. he loves you too much for that, especially when you're too exhausted to comprehend anything else.

"alright, fine. but i'll stay here with you. would you like tea?" he runs his fingers through his hair, getting up from his position.

wriothesley doesn't wait for you to say anything – he knows what you want. he breaks out the selection of teas he kept in his office, going through each one to see which had caffeine and which doesn't.

he eventually returns to your working area, a pot of tea in one hand and two cups precariously stacked on top of one another. it's steaming hot, and he sets it down gently.

it's quiet and peaceful. there's nothing but the low hum of wriothesley humming a calming tune, and the sound of you typing away.

the tea doesn't seem to be working, though? your eyes grow heavier and your head seems to find its place on his shoulder. you swear, there's a soft hint of a smile on wriothesley's face.

his smile seems almost like a smirk.

and then it clicks.

"you planned this all along." you pout, rubbing your eyes tiredly. the tea that was chosen wasn't caffeinated, and his sweet humming... it was the perfect mix to lull you to sleep.

"of course i did. go to sleep, (y/n)." he chuckles, saving your essay and closing your laptop for you.

okay, maybe sleep did sound good ... especially if he carried you back to bed later.

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[amorek1m]

˵꒱ 𖥔 STUDY WITH NIKI

. . . 𝒮ummary🌺] ‧₊˚ ⋅ how would study with niki belike? ‧₊˚ ⋅ drabbles ❀ 678

𝓟airing , niki x fame reader 西村 力 ── fluff, crack, high school au 🗯 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✦ riki's jokes, upcoming exam, war of words

(𝓚im's 𝓝otez ./. ) Hi so, my first niki fic!! (finally, I finish it😭) it's been a while since i write tho. hope you enjoy!!

[ ( reblogs + feedback is appriciated ) . ୨୧ . 𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔢 ]

"Oh my god, Riki can you just...focus for a sec? Thank god I still have some patience left." You said, anger evident in your voice. You were frustated with Riki's ignorant and careless attitude, especially since your upcoming exam is approaching.

This exam is important to you, as it would determine your scholarship. That's why, you had no choice but to ask Riki for help with your studies.

"Shhh, don't disturb me. I need to focus. I just ranked up to level 10. Give a minute and I'll finish this up." he replied, eyes glued to the phone. You knew asking this guy for help is not a good idea. He was completely engrossed in his game! You wished you could be more like him, effortlessly staying at the top of class without stessing your brain out.

"Done." he announced, waking you from your reverie. "Finally." you exhaled a deep sigh of relief. "Which part you don't understand?" Riki asked, picking up your notebook and scanning the page. Suddenly, a wave of sensation rushed through you, causing your stomach to swirl in an inexplicable dance. To calm your nerves, you accidentally snatch your notebook from Riki's hand, causing him to look at you with confusion in his eyes.

"Okay dude, chill out. I'm not snooping on your secret about you crushing on some guys. I'm just checking your notes. Nothing to worry about. Rest assured, your secrets is safe with me." he winks.

"Shut up." you coldly said, glaring at him like he does something so illegal. "Okay. I will." Riki replied, playfully zippping his mouth shut and raising his hands in mock surrender as he play along with the situation. You just rolled your eyes at him.

"How to solve this?" you asked Riki, but as the seconds ticked by in silence, no response came from him. Confused you called out his name. "Hello? earth to Riki." You said, still no response. Frustated, you removed your gaze from your book to look at Riki, only to find him already staring back at you. You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him for his behaviour.

"You told me to shut up so I stay silent." he retorted. You fought the strong urge to punch his good-looking face, but being in public made you hold back, so you forced yourself to let it slide. Gritting your teeth, you forced out the words, "You may speak now."

"Thanks. So where were we?" he asked as he perused the question. "Here." you answered, pointing to the question you'd been asking him to help you solve earlier. Riki's eyes followed the direction of your finger pointing at, and couldn't help but notice how neat your notes are. The way you organize it, highlighting the important things, he found it really cute. Suddenly, he feel guilty for his attitude towards you earlier. He should just help you instead wasting his time playing games.

"Easy. Let the best teaches you." he jokingly said. You rolled your eyes at him but instead feeling anger, you found yourself giggling to his jokes. "So Mr. Smartass, work your magic." you replied.

As the daylight start to fade in, you finished your work completely. Letting out a weary sigh, you stretched your arms and attempted to loosen your tensed muscles."Ughhh..." you groaned.

"Already stressing out? I guess even simple things give you trouble." he mockingly said. "Lucky you to have a brain that actually functions." you shot back. Surprisingly, instead of escalating the argument, he softly responded, "You're amazing Y/N. Even without me, you can ace this exam." A brief flutter in your heart betrayed your composure. You don't know why did you feel like this. Is it because the way he compliment you or is it something else? God, you need to stop thinking like this. Or maybe, you will end up fainting here.

"But can't beat the real ace." your voice came out pretty calm despite your internal nervousness. "Perhaps someday you'll beat me. But for now, the first place is mine."

"I will hold on to the promise." you affirmed, a smile tugging at Riki's lips. You smiled back as you bid farewell to Riki and went your separate ways.

© 2024, amorek1m 💌 perm tl . ღ @icyy-hoon @luvvknowle

a/n . . . taglist are open for my upcoming fic! :)

[wonderlandwalker]

Trying to Forget | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Part 2 of Remember. Finnick is trying to make peace with simply being your friend, because he thinks that is better than not getting to see you at all, but he might be proven painfully wrong. Find part 3 here

Content Warnings/Tags: Memory loss, insinuations of smut, angst, foreshadowing

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I have seen all your requests so here it is, part 2 of Remember. Happy ending is unfortunately not part of my vocabulary so this will have to do. I want to write more as a continuation of this but I have a big exam coming up so unless someone wants to take that for me I might have to take a break for a little bit

He still wasn't used to it, to see you there, to see you sitting next to your friends and how he had to join them as if that’s all he was, a friend. And don't get him wrong, he was glad you were there, he was thankful they had found you, but it hurt too.

You spend your days as if nothing was wrong, and he supposes to you there wasn't. He had to hold himself back from falling to your feet and praying to the gods to give you back to him. And he didn't understand what he had done wrong to deserve this punishment. He knows he has made mistakes in his life, but surely the cruelty of his current situation could not be matched by any and all of his past. When you look at him with those eyes full of excitement he wants to kiss you and make you remember, but it would only push you further away. So he pretends, he pretends he’s okay with the way things are, that he is okay with being a friend. 

He tries to let go, he really does. He tries to separate you from his love for you. He tries to remember not to hug you from behind when he walks into a room, but every time he remembers a piece of him withers away. 

And he doesn't know how to deal with this, because whenever he was upset, he would go to you. He would talk to you, or lay down next to you, and your presence would assure him he’d get through it, it would show him what he was doing it all for. But your presence isn't assuring anymore, it's shattering.

So he’s stopped touching you, he’s stopped looking at you like you’re about to remember him again, he’s stopped showing you affection. But he doesn't know what to do with himself, he’s spent as long as he can remember loving you, and he doesn't know where to channel this hole that is threatening to swallow him. So he makes sure you have everything he knows will light up your days, even if you don’t remember, he’ll remember for you. He makes sure they don't run out of blueberry jam because he remembers the time you told him it made the perfect breakfast with yoghurt. And whenever he does, you always look so surprised, asking him how they possibly could have known, but the real question is how he could possibly ever forget. 

Yes, he’ll remember for you. He’ll remember how you get cold at night after a long day, and he convinces someone to stack an extra blanket on your bed. And you might think it’s a coincidence every time, but he’ll never let coincidence make a turn for the worse. 

He sees when you go to visit the doctor, but he doesn't know what is going on anymore, because he isn't your boyfriend anymore. He’s asking people, bribing people to tell him, but it rarely works, because it’s confidential, and he no longer holds the privilege to your heart. 

There’s a small party tonight, and he knows you’ll be there. He knows because you’ve become close to Johanna, you laugh with her and you spend your days with her. And he’s glad that you’ve found someone you can talk to, but he still wished it had been him. In a way, it’s a small victory, because Johanna has taken pity on him. In any other situation, he’d tell her he didn't need it, he didn't need anyone's sorrow to comfort him, but he’d just be lying to himself and she knows it too. In any other situation he would have shut down on himself, he would have locked himself in his room and not come out. But you’re still here, haunting him like a ghost from a comforting dream he once had, so he goes on as usual, but it might be worse this way. 

Yet he still takes every crumb he can find, and so here he is. He’s standing around talking as if everything isn't so very, very wrong. He sees you walk in, and he wants to look away, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but he just can't. He remembers the dress you’re wearing, and if you had too he would have called you cruel for it. But he knows you don't, he knows it's just him basking in the memory of your skin against his, and that you probably don’t even remember what he feels like anymore.

He recalls the memory as clear as day, but if someone has been repeating them in their head like he had been, there wouldn't be any other option. You’re wearing the dress you wore on your anniversary last year. He had seen you wearing it and insisted on staying in, but you just laughed at him and called him silly for the idea, he didn't think it had been silly. He thought that if you had let him, he would have cancelled everything he had spent weeks planning. Because truly, all he really needed was you. You had shown him the dress and asked him how you looked. He had said you looked good enough to eat, and he was ready to prove his point to you over and over until the sun went down and took his vision of you with it, and even then he would have gladly continued.

But this time he doesn't get to, he sees you walk in with Johanna by your side, and he honestly doesn't know if this was intentional, but the grin she gets when she sees him watching tells him it isn't purely coincidental. Johanna had taken pity on him, but she was testing him as payment. 

All he wants to do is walk over to you, take your hand and kiss the soft base of your palm as you start to giggle nervously. He wants to, but he can’t. He can’t because this time you won't grace his ears with laughter, you’d just pull away. And he tries not to think of the way he wants to trail his fingers from your silk hair to the top of your dress. He tries to distract himself from the urge to kiss you while he drags the zipper down your back. He tries not to remember the way you used to moan his name as he traced a path up your thighs with his lips. 

He wants to forget, he wants to forget so he can find peace again. With all of his might he tries to forget, as if that will make everything more bearable. But in reality, if he did forget, he didn't think he would ever forgive himself.

He tears his eyes away from you and starts to leave before you can meet them, and if he hadn't, if he had given into his wish to keep getting lost in the vision that you were to him, he might have seen the smallest spark of memory flash through your eyes. He might have seen you walk his way to greet him with a new sense of sentiment, trying to nourish the bubbles that had surfaced after the storm. But he never gets the chance, because he has convinced himself keeping his hopes up was futile, he had resigned himself so much to a life of admiring you from a distance that he didn't even consider it might not be forever, that even the cruellest of circumstances can't keep two people destined for each other apart. But if he wasn't careful, the scissors of the fates might take it from him once more before he got the chance to see it.

Part 3: The Will of the Moirai

[jellybonbons]

Patches and Coffee

ೀ Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

Summary: You found yourself in the crossfire during one of Leon's cases in another state while visiting your family. Despite being bedridden, you tried to lift his spirits, assuring him that accidents happen and that you were just glad to have him with you.

Tags: established relationship, civilian!reader, pure fluff.

W/C: 1.2k

A/N: heyy so just a heads up, I'll be taking a small break to focus on my upcoming exams. Uni's been pretty intense lately, so I need to give it my full attention <3

—————

As you reclined in the hospital bed, snuggled up with your plushie, Patches, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the dim room, a gentle creak announced Leon's arrival. Instantly, a wave of warmth washed over you at the sight of him.

"Hi," you greeted him, a smile naturally spreading across your face as you paused your series to give him your full attention.

Leon returned the smile, though it was tempered with weariness evident in the shadows beneath his eyes. With sluggish steps, he approached your bedside.

"Hey," he replied softly, his genuine concern evident in his tone. "Just wanted to check in on how you're doing," he added, sinking into the chair beside you.

"Better, now that you're here," you responded sincerely.

Leon’s chest swelled with a subtle sense of relief at your words, a feeling he hadn't experienced in days. It was reassuring to know he could make a difference, even in a small way. "What were you watching?" he inquired, leaning in to glance at the screen of your laptop.

"Criminal Minds," you answered, briefly diverting back to the screen. "I'm already on season 9."

"Damn, you're quick. Weren't you just starting season 8 two days ago?" Leon remarked with a chuckle.

"Well, I've got nothing better to do," you retorted with a playful smirk, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief.

With a small grin, he met your gaze and replied, "Fair enough," appreciating the lighthearted banter that lifted the sombre mood. "Don’t mind me, you can continue watching," he added, gesturing for you to unpause the show. As you resumed watching your series together, a comfortable silence enveloped the room.

After a while, you turned to Leon, curiosity evident in your expression. "So, how was work after all of this?" you asked softly.

Leon took a moment to ponder, appreciating your interest. Work had been an endless stream of stress lately, but your company and conversation had a way of melting away the tension, if only temporarily.

"It was alright, I guess," he sighed, rubbing his strained neck. "Had a chat with my supervisor earlier... He made me realise I might've been too close to the case, so he helped me refocus."

You listened intently, your gaze fixed on him. You could feel the weight of his words, the lingering tension beneath his casual demeanour. Reaching out, you gently squeezed his hand, offering silent support.

"It sounds like you’ve been through a lot," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But I’m glad your supervisor is looking out for you. You shouldn’t have to carry the burden alone." You offered a reassuring smile.

Leon's expression softened at your words, a flicker of gratitude crossing his features. "Yeah…you’re right," he replied, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He raised your hand and tenderly pressed his lips to your knuckles, silently appreciating your understanding and compassion.

To lighten the mood even further you reached for Patches, your childhood plushie, and held it up with a playful smile, using a slightly cartoony voice. "Hey there, Mr. Agent," you said cheerfully. "Patches and I are here to cheer you up!"

Leon's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the plushie, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, hello there, Patches," he replied, playing along with you. "It’s good to see you, old pal."

You giggled, bringing Patches closer to Leon. "Patches says you're doing a great job and that everything's going to be okay," you added in a playful tone, using the plushie's paw to tap his cheek gently, hoping to bring a smile to Leon's face.

Leon chuckled softly, his expression relaxing as he reached out to give Patches a gentle pat. "Thanks, Patches," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I appreciate the pep talk."

As you watched Leon interact with Patches, a sense of relief washed over you, “You should take care of yourself and grab a bite to eat together, okay?” you added, playfully wiggling the plushie.

Leon smiled and raised an amused eyebrow at the plushie. "Oh really now? So you think I need a break? Well, I don't know...what did you have in mind? You think you'll be able to convince me?"

You nodded enthusiastically, giving Patches a little shake as if the plushie were nodding along with you. "Absolutely! Patches and I have it all planned out. We're thinking of a nice sandwich and coffee from the cafeteria. You know, surprisingly hospital’s food ain’t that bad!" you said, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come on, Mr. Agent, even superheroes need to refuel sometimes!"

Leon's grin broadened at the adorable sight of Patches in your hands, and your words brought a sparkle to his eyes, especially the part about superheroes needing to refuel. “So Patches is the expert on superhero protocol now, huh?" He leaned in as if sharing a secret with the plushie.

"Of course! Patches is a wise plushie," you replied, pretending to confer with the stuffed toy. "And he says it's essential for super agents like you to keep their energy levels up!”

Leon chuckled, feeling his mouth starting to ache from smiling too much. Amusement danced in his eyes, causing them to crinkle at the corners. "Well, if Patches says so, who am I to argue?" he said with a mock-serious expression.

You smiled at his playful response, ready to stand up and fetch your crutches, but a sudden grimace crossed your face, causing you to wince and sit back down. "Ouch," you muttered, glancing down at the cast on your leg.

Leon's smile faltered slightly as he noticed your discomfort. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You forced a smile, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, it's just this darn cast. I forgot I can't walk properly with it," you admitted sheepishly. "It's still a bit sore."

"Do you want me to grab you a wheelchair?" he offered, gesturing towards the nearby hospital equipment.

You hesitated for a moment, realising that accepting help wouldn't make you any less capable. "Actually, that might be a good idea," you admitted reluctantly. "Walking with this cast is more of a hassle than I thought."

Leon nodded, understanding written all over his face. "Alright, let me go grab one," he said, moving towards the equipment.

As he returned with the wheelchair, you thanked him, feeling a sense of relief wash over you knowing you wouldn't have to struggle with every step. "Thanks, Leon," you said gratefully, settling into the wheelchair with Patches still in your lap. "Let's roll!"

As Leon guided the wheelchair out of your room, a heavy sense of guilt weighed on him. "Hey," he said softly, his expression clouded with remorse. "I'm sorry that you're here because of me."

"Leon, it's okay, really. It's not your fault," you reassured him gently, reaching for his hand. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Besides, it's not a major injury." You offered him a reassuring smile.

He returned your smile with a soft one of his own, though the guilt still lingered in his heart. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Thanks again for cheering me up," he said gratefully.

"Anything for you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "And besides, it's not like I'd let a little cast keep me away from my favourite federal agent." You punctuated your statement with a playful wink.

“You’re such a goof,” he teased, shaking his head in amusement.

[samiiy20]

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Song mingi x fem!reader 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗲: Smut 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.9k 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: masturbation,voyeurism, unprotected sex (don't do it), reader is older than Mingi (but only by a couple of years)

You were hoping to have a quiet night of relaxation with yourself, but an unexpected visitor knocks on your door and changes your plans.

N/A: I know I promised Yeosang's story, but I was thinking that maybe it will be some kind of series that connects with the other members, but rest assured I will do it. Just wait for it soon <3

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

The day had been a disaster. That morning when you finally woke up and noticed something unusual, you checked your phone, only to realize that the alarm didn't wake you up on time. You missed the first two classes at the university where you happened to see important topics for the exam, but everything got worse at work, where your boss came up with the brilliant idea of assigning you a difficult project for the weekend. And when you finally got to the room you were renting so you could eat something, you realized that you hadn't gone to the supermarket and there was nothing.

“This couldn't be worse,” you whispered to yourself as you lay down on the bed.

Maybe there was a way to get all the stress out of your body. Cheering up a little, you opened your closet drawer and took out a toy. You needed to distract yourself and forget your frustrations, you deserved it for surviving a shitty day.

You smiled, settling down on the bed and abandoning your shorts somewhere on the floor. You sighed, clearing your thoughts and spread your legs, turning on the toy. You rested your head on the pillows when you felt the contact of the toy on your core and you began to relax, but when you were starting to forget everything you heard a knock on the door.

You screamed inside, angry you got up looking for your shorts and hid the vibrator under the sheets. The doorbell wouldn't stop ringing and if it didn't stop you would greet whoever was waiting with a knock, but when you opened the door all your thoughts were erased.

“Mingi?” The anger disappeared and now you just felt confused, you didn't expect to see him here, especially so late "What are you doing here?"

“Hello, I didn't want to bother you but…” her words were suspended in the air when she noticed what you were wearing.

“Let me guess, Yunho?” He nodded, scratching his head awkwardly when he noticed your clothing, but you didn't notice his eyes running over your shoulders or focusing on the silhouette of your breasts. You sighed, cursing your brother, “That idiot.”

“I didn't know where to go… it's already late and” You sighed defeated and felt a little sorry for him, your night of pleasure could wait.

“Don't talk anymore, come in” you stepped aside letting him enter.

It wasn't the first time Mingi came to your house when Yunho decided to bring someone into the apartment they shared and even though he had promised not to do it he broke his promise too soon.

"I'm sorry"

“Leave the drama, it's not that big of a deal,” you responded, hitting him on the arm, “do you want to sleep?”

“I don't know” You noticed that he was more nervous than normal, but you didn't understand why and you stood in front of him, challenging him, putting your hands on your hips.

"What's the matter?" Mingi looked at you once and tried to just see your face, but since you opened the door he saw through your light pajamas (if you could call them that) and noticed that you weren't wearing a bra, plus the shorts. …well they were too short.

He didn't want to think about you that way, you were his friend's sister, plus you were older than him and he blamed himself for coming here, you were too kind to let a pervert like him pass that the only thing he thought about It was in your body.

“It's just that Yunho… worries me,” he said, trying to focus his attention on something else.

You sighed giving up and walking to the kitchen to make some tea thinking it would calm him down.

“Me too” Mingi stayed where he was resisting the urge to turn around to see your figure “that girl is just playing with him, I'm sure” you passed him the cup of tea and smiled when he took it, noticing that he calmed down a little "Besides, it's not fair that I leave you out"

Mingi nodded, tasting the hot drink as they passed into the small room. You sat on the couch in front of him without noticing that he became tense and you put your feet up on the table in front of you, settling down to pass the time.

They didn't talk much and Mingi forced himself to talk, but your bare legs distracted him for a while, imagining how soft your skin was and how it would feel if he kissed it, he wondered what face you would make if he ran his hands over your breasts and then kissed your breasts neck, he wondered how he would feel if he put his…

He put those thoughts out of his mind, it wasn't the first time he had them, but he had managed to contain himself well until now, he set limits and stopped thinking about you talking to other girls, but sometimes, certain nights, when the memory of you It tormented him, he couldn't resist massaging himself thinking about you.

He shifted in his seat, but he was already tense enough and having you around wasn't helping him.

“I'm dying of sleep,” he whispered, interrupting your conversation. “I think I better go.”

You looked at the clock and got up to stop him. It was too late, you were worried that he would leave in the middle of the night, plus you didn't want to accept it, but you enjoyed his company more than you should.

"Stay"

Mingi could have refused and stopped the trouble he had started having in his pants, but seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed and your lips curled he didn't find the courage to say no.

After leaving him a pillow and some blankets, Mingi prepared to get comfortable on the couch. The lights went out and he closed his eyes to avoid thinking about the smell you had left in the room.

You went to your room and lay down on the bed trying to fall asleep, but something kept you restless. You shifted on the bed until you felt something under you and you pulled it out, embarrassed for forgetting that you had the dildo hidden.

Suddenly the idea that you had had from the beginning came back, you still felt tense and you knew that you wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight, but a part of you was fighting to contain itself, you were not alone and you liked the idea that Mingi could hear you, but you liked it. You were sure that he wouldn't like someone older like you, plus he was your brother's friend.

You closed your eyes, everything was silent, it seemed as if no one was around. You bit your lip and without thinking much you opened your legs, moving your hand down your abdomen until you reached your clothed pussy. You ran your fingers gently over your clit, rubbing it in circles and sank further into the bed.

You slowly increased your movements as you felt your slickness seeping through the fabric. You bit your lips and closed your eyes imagining that your fingers were someone else's as you took off your shorts and directly touched your soaked pussy, forgetting a little that you were not alone and you moaned.

Mingi was restless and although he tried to sleep he was distracted when he heard a strange noise, at first he was scared thinking it was something but when he heard it repeated constantly, curiosity took over him. He got up and walked silently to your room where something could be heard on the other side. A ragged breath and moans reached his head causing him to freeze with his hand on the door.

He rubbed his eyes thinking that he was still dreaming, but when another moan was heard he couldn't do anything. His entire body tensed and he felt a slight pressure in his crotch that wanted to be addressed, his head was hallucinating and his senses had stopped working. It was wrong to stay and listen to you but he couldn't move. He sighed, running his hand over his pants as he pressed his ear to the door and held onto his cock.

It wasn't enough, he needed to see how you gave yourself pleasure, to see how you moaned and joined your fingers up to the knuckles in your pussy. He bit his lip, doubting whether he should turn the knob, but his instincts seemed to react first and he just peeked through the small crack.

Your back was arched and your legs were shaking as your fingers pumped your pussy over and over again, you moaned desperately, biting the sheets to try to silence yourself. Mingi stayed still recording that image in his head for later but when he saw your shiny pussy and your heavy breathing he couldn't contain himself and let out a loud moan.

You had been aware that you might wake Mingi up, but that was your plan and when you heard footsteps outside you moaned louder for him to open the door, you smiled when you heard the low squeak and arched your back sticking your fingers into your pussy, you were close and Knowing that he was watching you helped you elevate the sensation, letting your pleasure release with one last moan.

“Mingi…”

The boy stopped his movements holding his breath, had you moaned his name? What should he do? Have you seen it? Should he run away? but he couldn't answer any of that when he saw your silhouette moving on the bed.

“I know you're behind the door.” Mingi still didn't move, trying to process everything you said, but he wasn't expecting your words. “Are you going to watch or come help me?”

Mingi's head spun, he must have been dreaming, there were no more explanations. The way everything was being too good couldn't be true, but, if it wasn't true it didn't matter at all, right?

Mingi hesitated for a moment, fighting in his head and shouting that this was wrong, that you were his friend's sister, but he gathered his courage and opened the door completely. You smiled when you saw him, leaning on your elbows to notice how his eyes roamed around your naked body you opened your legs even more, letting him see every part of your pussy and you bit your mouth as you watched him run his tongue over his lips.

“Did you plan all this on purpose?” His voice became deep and his eyes darkened a little as they met yours as you closed your legs and stood up to walk to where he was.

His eyes didn't leave your body the entire time, he was fighting not to grab you and throw you onto the bed, but he remained calm when he felt your hand on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut as you ran your fingers over his lips giving him a small taste of your taste.

“You should apologize for invading my privacy darling” you saw him salivate and as he parted his lips to lick the tips of your fingers “you're a bad boy” you continued putting your fingers in his mouth when he started breathing harder and harder.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, connecting his gaze with yours for a moment and moving away a little.

“Show me,” you said, standing on tiptoe to be at the height of his mouth. “Show how sorry you are.”

Mingi didn't wait any longer and he left all doubtful thoughts of him behind. He grabbed your waist and brought your bodies together while he kissed your mouth.

You moaned in surprise, letting him take you to the bed, letting his hands run over your butt and squeeze it hard.

You leaned your head back and arched your body as his mouth descended on your neck and you felt him mark your skin with soft bites. You ran your hands over his chest trying to get rid of his shirt but before you could do anything he threw you on the bed and placed himself on top of you.

His eyes were lost in yours for a moment before he placed short kisses on your breasts, sucking on the skin and passing his tongue over your nipples, making your skin crawl. You let yourself be carried away by the sensation of his mouth slowly going down your abdomen until it reached your thighs and you felt his hands caress the inside of your legs, playing a little with your pussy.

“Min…”

“I want to know every part of your splendid body” he whispered as he brought his mouth closer to the middle of your legs “I want to taste you and feel the pleasure through you” his words made you sigh, no one had ever spoken to you that way.

There was no time to respond when you let out a moan as you felt his tongue in your pussy, your back arched as he began to play with your clit and his fingers caressed your entrance. You felt like you were pressing against nothing and you were already feeling the rush inside you from the overstimulation. You grabbed his hair, urging him to continue licking your pussy and you felt his tongue go faster when he inserted a finger to add to your pleasure but it was not enough.

You closed your legs, crushing his head in between but Mingi didn't complain, he felt like he was in heaven when he felt your flesh crushing him at the same time he tasted your slick. His tongue was fast and his finger lightly touched your g-spot making it torture, tears gathered on your face as you felt so close to orgasm, but suddenly everything stopped.

Mingi withdrew knowing that he couldn't stand it any longer with his cock in his pants either. You saw him undress and you did not hide your astonishment when you saw his worked body, but what surprised you the most was his cock. The tip of it was red and leaking precum and you couldn't help but lick your lips, which he noticed making his cock even harder.

“Fuck me” Mingi smiled, leaning over you, taking the base of his cock and passing it over your clit. “Please…” he left the tip at your entrance and focused on your face while he grabbed your hips tightly and slowly introduced his thick cock inside you making you moan from feeling so full.

“Fuck… it feels so good” Mingi moaned when he saw their joined bodies. He leaned over you and wiped away a tear you had shed, pressing his lips together in a passionate kiss, feeling his tongue and your taste in your mouth.

His hands caressed the outside of your legs and lowered them to your thighs to raise one leg over his body and let it rest on one of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs and smiled before starting to move his hips crashing against yours, you moaned into his mouth as you felt his cock throb through you. You placed your hands on his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin as he picked up a faster pace.

Mingi could die right now, he had dreamed about you so many times and now that he was buried deep inside your tight pussy he felt like he was in fucking hell. His body was burning and he could only focus on the image of your face while he watched your marked tits bounce with each thrust. He couldn't stand it for long if you continued to squeeze him like that.

“I'm close,” he whispered, feeling his cock throb.

You looked at his body for a moment, taking in his muscles and the small beads of sweat on his chest.

“Do it, I want all of you Min” your warm voice combined with the nickname made Mingi tremble and leave your legs, you received him in your chest as you felt the client liquid seeping inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and stroked his hair, letting yourself be carried away by the feeling of his semen spilling down your thighs.

Silence took over the room for a moment, you kept your eyes closed feeling Mingi's body on yours and her breath on your neck. You weren't sure how this would change the relationship you had with him and how it would affect his relationship with your Yunho, but you didn't want to think about that now.

“Min…” the boy raised his head, resting his hands on the sides of your head.

“I know…” they both looked at each other sharing the blame for a moment until he caressed your cheek “we should go take a shower” he confessed making you laugh a little to cut the tension of the moment.

“Okay” you held hands as you walked, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed yourself against his lips “only if you promise to fuck me again pretty boy”

“You're corrupting me,” Mingi blurted out so seriously with red cheeks that you almost forgot the way he had just fucked you in bed.

They laughed on their way to the bathroom without hearing any of the forgotten ringing phones while Yunho sighed angrily at the missed calls they left him.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hand On You (Woso Prompt)

22. I won't let anyone lay an hand on you with Laia Aleixandri.

This one is short, but enjoy :)

TW : Angst, Creepy guy.

______________________________________________________________

It’s only when the library supervisor asks you to leave that you realize what time it is. You are in full preparation for your exams and you haven't seen the hours passed, which is rather embarrassing since you are supposed to go home with public transport and you hate it, especially at night.

After you gather your things, you get your coat and find the fresh air of Manchester. The good news is that it wakes you up a little, after spending so much time locked up it feels good to breath some fresh air. Your apartment being far away, you have to take two different buses. Luckily the first one arrives quite quickly and you manage to find a free place at the bottom.

A few stops later, a man comes to sit next to you, which is not strange considering that it's public transport. What is a little more strange is that you feel his look on you and that he absolutely doesn't hide it.

When you apologize to him for letting you through so you can get down, his smile gives you chills. You swallow and hurry to reach the exit door of the bus, finding with relief the fresh air. But your relief doesn't last long since you realize while standing in front of the stop for your correspondence that it also came down.

He's looking everywhere, upset and evil. It doesn’t take you long to understand that what he’s looking for is you.

Luckily, he didn’t see you. And for it to continue this way, you move quickly to hide behind the bus shelter, hoping he will quickly drop the case. In your maneuver, you shoved a young woman a little too abruptly.

"I’m sorry" you mumble a low-pitched apology.

You don’t hear her answer though, preferring to look over your shoulder to see if you’ve been spotted. You feel the panic seizing you when you notice that the man has disappeared and you expect to see him reappear at any time at your side.

"Hello?" says the brunette you shoved earlier, drawing your attention back to her. "All right?"

"Yes, I-"

But you shut up suddenly, eyes wide open with terror. The face of the man is only ten meters away from you and he saw you. His predatory smile gives you shivers again. One of the two young women in the trio of people who are together follows your gaze.

"Do you know him?"

"No. I think he’s following me."

The three young people react quickly and it takes you out of your torpor. The brunette and the man, also with brown hair, turn in the direction of the man who is making his way towards you, while the blonde passes her arm around your shoulders to train you a little further.

"Everything will be fine" she assures you with an accent you can’t recognize. "My name is Laia, and the others are Leila and Moise"

Laia makes you sit on the bus shelter bench, glued against the ads, which makes you see nothing at the scene that takes place a few meters from you.

"Maybe I’m getting the wrong idea, but he was really weird"

You hope you’re not provoking a fight or argument for nothing. But the blonde is smiling nicely.

"If you didn’t feel safe, it’s enough to ask for help"

You look up at her and give her a little smile, grateful for her understanding. When she leans slightly to see beyond the bus shelter, you hurry to question her.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, don’t worry. I won't let anyone lay an hand on you."

[crusty-chronicles]

Hi hi!

Can I request a kurapika x reader (headcanons, or you can do a oneshot if it's too difficult.)?

Where the reader also had an immense hatred for the phantom troupe for something they did to reader?

Kurapika also finds them enjoyable to be around because reader is just such a chill person?

(Also this is random but can the personality for the reader be super shy to everyone they meet and they just draws whenever they can? Because that's just my personality.)

Kurapika with a Phantom Troupe Hating S/O

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

He first noticed you during the first phase of the hunter exam

You were just another contestant to him at the time

Just another stranger.

And it would have stayed like that had you not stopped during Leorio's crisis

Staying put as he contemplated quitting. Only to say something that Kurapika couldn't quite hear.

But whatever it was, it had Leorio jumping up with new vigor and running once again.

Words he would later learn were, "You're friends are waiting for you, ya know? So don't give up just yet."

The next time Kurapika notices you is during the third phase. Where a group of five was needed to advance.

And by chance, you just so happened to be the fifth member.

He immediately noticed your skittish behavior upon seeing them.

Back to the wall with eyes the size of dinner plates.

A quiet 'Hi' escaping you as the cogs turned in your head.

But you didn't have to think for long as the instructions for the third phase were explained.

With the assurance that you wouldn't have to fight anyone, you relaxed.

You didn't talk much, at least not to him

Usually giving one worded responses if you had to.

Despite this, your actions didn't come off as malicious. But rather nervous.

Like you were unsure of yourself.

However, with constant prodding from Gon and Killua, you opened up a bit.

Adding some insight whenever a choice had to be made

For some reason he couldn't place, Kurapika wanted to hear a little more of your voice.

To have you talk without you feeling strained

He would get his wish during the next challenge of this phase.

The prisoner with a spider tattoo.

Seeing him had caused enough rage within Kurapika to activate his scarlet eyes.

So much anger.

So much hatred that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Unaware of you fuming from the sidelines.

Your first clenched so tightly, there were imprints of your nails.

Leorio was the one to bring it up after you were forced to give up 50 hours.

"I thought Kurapika hated the Phantom Troupe, but you were absolutely pissed at that inmate! You wouldn't happen to be a Kurta would you?"

You looked up from the sketchbook you were doodling in with a frown.

"No. I just can't stand that gang of brutes."

Your voice came out harsh, your pencil strokes getting faster.

But that answer wasn't satisfactory for the blonde sitting next to you.

If you knew something about the Spiders, he wanted to know. He needed to know.

"What business do you have with the phantom troupe?" His tone dangerously dark.

But instead of answering him, you slid over the piece you were working on.

To his and Leorio's shock, bloodied scenes filled the pages.

"The leader stole my brother's nen ability and practiced it on him. Over and over again." Until there was nothing left.

But you didn't want to get into specifics right now. If you did, you most likely wouldn't be able to finish the exam.

"Drawing helps. A way for me to remember so that I never forget what they did to him. I need to become a hunter so I'll have a better shot of finding them."

It was the most you've ever spoken, and when you looked up, you were met with sympathetic and understanding gazes.

You were a lot less quiet after that.

A lot more friendlier too.

And while Kurapika had someone to relate to, he just couldn't stand the thought of you being the one to cause the spiders' demise.

He understood your rage, but his own would never be satisfied unless he took down the Phantom with his own hands.

So as a friendly warning, he told you so himself.

"As you're aware, the Troupe murdered my entire clan. And I can never forgive them for that, just as you can never forgive them for taking your brother from you. But it's me who's going to bring them to justice. I will not allow someone else to be their downfall. No matter if we're friends."

And instead of you arguing with him, instead of you fighting, instead of either of you lashing out....

You spoke in that soft tone of yours.

"I want to kill him. All of them, but I can be content just knowing they'll suffer. If you want to go after them, I won't interfere. But I'd like to help."

Relief immediately flowed through him.

You weren't upset.

You weren't going to push back.

You were still friends.

"Then let's stick together after the exam. Your presence is enjoyable."

The beginning of a partnership built on loss

Of relying on each other because no one else understood.

Trying to complete the ultimate goal of finishing the Spiders while justifying the closeness between each other

But neither of you pushing for more.

Destroying the Phantom Troupe came first after all.

[chelseeebe]

undo.

this is sooo loosely (when i say loosely i mean two lines) based on undo - the 1975 but i loved it and wanted a happy ending for once lol

we’re not doing it again, so leave it.

i could hear you giving her head.. keep dreaming.

summary: a one night stand with your friend could never go to plan, could it?

friends to lovers i suppose, just takes a little bit of jealousy to get there

there was not a chance in hell that you were going to sleep with steve again.

no matter how much he persisted, or tried to charm you into going on a date with him. no way.

it wasn’t even supposed to happen.

a simple movie night in which robin was supposed to join you, had turned into something more.

your friendship group had seemingly already been notified of your encounter and had some choice words for you when you hung out again.

robin, steve’s best friend, was particularly concerned about how the dynamic would now affect the group.

‘i’m just saying, i really like you and i don’t wanna have to take sides in this.. that’s all,’ she holds her hands up.

‘robin, there is no taking sides, there is nothing going on.. it was one time! okay?’ you assure her.

you notice nancy flash a knowing glance at her boyfriend jonathan, but she’s quick to turn back to you and nod, not totally reassured by any of your words.

‘can we just leave it now? it was stupid and a mistake and..’ you’re interrupted by steve waltzing up to your table in the library, that shit-eating-grin on his face.

‘what’s a mistake?’ he asks, taking the empty seat next to yours and immediately shuffling closer.

‘you, apparently,’ robin adds, slumping back in her chair.

‘oh wow, well i am deeply offended,’ steve mocks, turning to you and clasping his heart in a sarcastic gesture.

you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you begin to pack away your books.

steve frowns, grabbing onto your book, ‘you don’t have to leave just because i’m here, yanno?’

‘i’m not,’ you lie, attempting to pull the book out of his grip.

‘then where are you going?’ his fingers still tightly holding on, his eyes staring intently at you.

‘are you my dad? do you need to know?’ you quip back, playing a pathetic game of tug-of-war with your copy of moby dick with steve.

steve cocks his head and grins, ‘i mean.. if you want me to be.’

you yank the book free and tut at his ridiculous comments.

robin stands from the table, ‘i can’t do this.. i’ll catch you losers later,’ shaking her head as she walks out of the library.

nancy grabs onto jonathan’s hand, tugging him up, ‘we’ve gotta go.. look, please sort out whatever is going on between you guys, before this weekend please,’ she pleads.

the group of you had all planned a trip to nancy’s parents holiday home, in celebration of finishing exams. of course, this was all decided before you and steve had had sex and now none of you were prepared for the tension that would now surround the pair of you.

jonathan gives you a small, pitying, smile before being dragged away by nancy. he and nancy has already been a couple before the group had become a thing, so hadn’t experienced the awful shift in dynamic.

‘nice one, steve.. real nice,’ you frown at him, standing from your own seat and swinging your bag over your shoulder.

‘how was any of that my fault?’ brows furrowed in confusion.

you huff and storm away, but you can hear his chair screech and his footsteps following.

‘can you just speak to me.. for five minutes?’ he pants, grabbing onto your arm and stopping you from walking away.

you spin to face him, pulling your arm back, ‘i don’t want to speak about it anymore, it’s done.. okay?’

‘i just.. i don’t understand, so you fuck me and then.. what? that’s it?’ he leers down, towering over you.

‘that’s exactly it,’ you stare back, but his eyes are intimidating and his fingers are still lingering on your skin and you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt on yours.

pulling your gaze away from him and searching the wall behind him for something more interesting.

‘you won’t let me take you out, just once? that’s all i’m asking for here,’ his thumb rubs against your wrist and you can feel his eyes on you.

‘no steve.. leave it,’ shaking your head as you pull away completely and walk off down the hallway.

he was not going to pull you in with his cocky smile and soft brown eyes, you were better than that.

-

you get a ride with jonathan up to the cabin, nancy in the front and robin sat next to you in the back.

steve had called nancy earlier that morning to let her know he’d be late and would find his own way up.

you’re relieved as you now no longer had to be squished between him and robin for hours, especially knowing that he would be completely relentless in his teasing.

the cabin in question is very quaint, large enough to accommodate all of you although someone was to be confined to the sofa bed in the living room.

it’s a collective decision that steve has to take it as a forfeit for being late.

you’re all sat around in the back garden, the low afternoon sun blaring down on you as jonathan’s boombox blares some pretentious indie rock.

robin hands you a beer and sits back in the chair next to you, none of them had mentioned you and steve and you were incredibly grateful.

you were sure they had just assumed you two had figured it all out, the situation was put to bed.

‘oh look who’s finally arrived!’ robin announces as steve walks through the open back door.

you look up to see him walking towards you with a random girl in tow, hanging onto his arm.

‘hey, sorry i’m late.. i hope you don’t mind, this is tanya..’ he motions towards the girl, who waves at you all, ‘didn’t wanna drive up here all on my own so.. tanya was happy to volunteer to join me.’

it had been a week? two weeks? since you and steve had had sex, and now he was already dating someone else?

you squint at him, choosing to keep your mouth shut in this situation.

steve’s eyes are firmly on you, watching for a reaction, any sort of inkling that you gave a shit, and you were not going to give him that satisfaction.

‘well.. hello tanya,’ nancy politely responds, slightly taken aback by the stranger who was standing in her backyard.

‘you two are on the couch.. punishment for being late,’ robin adds, sipping on the bottle of beer in her hand.

‘that’ll be fine, won’t it?’ he breaks his gaze away from you to look at the girl, who enthusiastically nods back, a sickly smile plastered on her face.

you can feel nancy glance over to you, probably worried that you might say something, anything, to cause an argument.

but you don’t. you slide your sunglasses on and relax back into your chair.

besides, you’d already told steve that you weren’t interested… so why would you care about the pretty girl stood next to him?

you don’t. you tell yourself, although you aren’t sure you fully believe it.

-

you wake up at some point in the night to a ghastly sound.

a horrible whaling, screechy sound.

it takes you a few moments to adjust, trying to decide whether to grab the baseball bat you had found in the closet and venture out to the source of the sound.

and then you can hear a high-pitched, drawn out, ‘steve,’ come from down the hall and it all makes sense.

you groan, rolling over to try and fall back to sleep but the moaning gets louder and so insanely over-the-top that you have to place the pillow over your head to muffle the sounds.

-

steve is completely unashamed when robin complains about their little performance, that smug grin on his lips.

‘sorry.. sorry, should’ve given me a room,’ he shrugs before taking a seat next to tanya, placing an arm around her shoulder.

you avoid eye contact, in fact, you don’t speak a word to him all day.

actively avoiding any conversation he was a part of and choosing any place in the house that he was not.

it’s driving him mad. how you won’t even look at him, hell you won’t even acknowledge that he exists.

he glowers at you over dinner, obnoxiously replying to all of your questions, all to no avail.

robin thinks it’s fucking hilarious and can’t help laughing to herself every time you wilfully ignore his answers and move on to the next question.

nancy is desperately trying to hold it all together, this was supposed to be a nice break away for all of you and steve had brought this stranger along and then proceeded to very loudly have sex with her on her parents couch. it was all a bit too much.

jonathan is quite honestly just enjoying himself, watching as his friends fall into chaos around him, quietly observing the insanity.

you all decide to head to bed early, hoping that a fresh start tomorrow would sort everything out.

robin threatens steve before heading to her room, telling him that she’ll actually castrate him herself if she hears anything tonight and you giggle when you get back to your own room.

you’re dozing off until there’s a soft knock at your door and you’re jolted back awake.

you sigh, standing up and padding over to answer the door only to find steve standing on the other side of the wood.

he holds his finger up to his mouth and creeps into the room, gently closing the door behind him.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you angrily whisper, frowning at him.

‘why won’t you just speak to me? fuck- you can’t even look at me,’ he hushes, moving towards you.

you back up slightly, moving when he does, ‘i don’t have anything to say to you,’ you hiss.

your heart is pounding, a shirtless steve was the last thing you had expected on the other side of the door.

‘that’s bullshit,’ he continues to edge closer, ‘you’re jealous,’ he smirks.

‘keep dreaming,’ you scoff, backing up into the wooden wall of the building.

‘you are,’ now only inches away, tilting his head to look down at you, ‘look me in the eye and tell me you’re not.’

you swallow, crumbling under the weight of his stare, his eyes drinking in every part of your face.

‘i’m not,’ you lie, chest heaving up and down.

‘liar,’ he says before closing the space between your bodies, pushing your body back against the wall as his hands find themselves on your waist, his lips crashing into yours.

your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, fingers tangling into his messy hair, desperately grasping onto anything you could hold.

the kiss is sloppy, heated as his tongue finds it’s way into your mouth and his fingers toy with the buttons on your pajama shirt.

he pulls back, gasping for breath as he holds onto your waist, waking you backwards towards the bed and collapsing on top of you.

the bed makes an incriminating creaking noise and you widen your eyes up at him, but he just smirks in response, pressing another kiss to your aching lips.

his hands begin to undo the buttons on your shirt, fumbling around and groaning into your mouth when he can’t get the hang of it one handed.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, moving your hand between you to help him with the task, he begins to kiss onto your jaw and down onto your neck.

you successfully unbutton the shirt and shimmy it off of your body beneath him, throwing your head back to allow wider access to your neck.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes into your neck, the hand that was previously struggling, running down your body to tug down the matching shorts you had on.

his lips are still attacking your skin, sucking and nibbling, which would probably leave some kind of mark but you could not have cared less in this moment.

he yanks down his own boxers and moves from your neck to press his forehead against yours, guiding himself into your slick entrance with a low groan.

your mouth falls open, trying with every fibre of your being to not make any noise as he begins to slowly move inside of you.

his eyes watch your face as he licks his lips, keeping a slow rhythm as to not rock the bed though this is all the more frustrating, your fingers tugging on his hair to urge him to move faster.

he moves steady and deep and you have to stifle a moan when he hits your sweet spot, whimpering underneath him as hips slam into yours.

the sound of skin on skin is undeniable, filling the room and you just pray that robin is sound asleep.

his lips lazily connect with yours in an attempt to not grunt as you rock your hips upwards into him, nearing your orgasm.

he pulls back, choosing to move faster as he finds his own orgasm approaching, letting out a throaty moan before your hand leaves his hair and clamps over his mouth.

though you can’t help the sounds of pleasure that escape your mouth when you reach your peak, choosing to burrow your head into his forearm and trembling around him.

‘fuck,’ he groans against your hand, coming inside of you before collapsing into a sweaty mess on the bed next to you.

you swallow, trying to find your breath, truly still coming down from your high.

steve breathes out, turning his head to look at you, disgustingly smug about it all.

‘don’t,’ you whisper, ‘don’t say anything.’

he shakes his head, ‘i wasn’t going to,’ his arm reaches over to pull you into his chest and you don’t fight it instead placing your head onto his still-heaving chest.

he moves the blanket to cover you both and you fall asleep in that exact position, hoping that the walls weren’t as thin as they seemed.

-

plates clatter in the kitchen and your eyes open, suddenly hyper-aware that you were still holding onto a very-much asleep steve, who most definitely should not be here in your bed.

you sit up and shake him, ‘steve,’ you hiss, ‘you need to get up!’

he groans, squinting at the sudden light, ‘w-what? what’s wrong?’ he says groggily, not sure why you had chosen to so aggressively wake him up.

‘you can’t be in here!’ you whisper loudly, eyes widened.

‘ohh.. oh shit,’ he sits up, realising where exactly he was and who exactly was outside probably wondering where the hell he was.

you look over at the window, ‘climb out the window.. say you went for a walk or some shit.’

‘right.. right yeah,’ he stands up, still disoriented from the sleep and grabs his boxers, sliding them on.

you stand and walk over to help him out of the window, trying to quietly slide it open.

he pauses for a second and grips onto your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him, ‘see ya’ tonight?’

‘you’re so.. fuck- get out,’ you respond and he bites down onto his bottom lip before clambering out of the window, you close the window and shoo him away.

picking up a hoodie and your discarded shorts and throwing them on, attempting to hide whatever mess he had left on your neck.

you exhale before stepping out of your room, hearing your friends voices echo through the cabin.

‘well hello sleepy head,’ robin says, sitting up straight in her chair.

you smile at her taking a seat at the table, averting your eyes from tanya who was sat in confusion, waiting for the boy that had dragged her here to reappear.

almost on cue, steve stumbles through the front door and into the kitchen, your eyes flit up to him, only to already be met by his own eyes staring back.

you quickly look back to the table as nancy turns around, face screwed up in confusion, ‘where have you been?’

‘oh.. i woke up early and went for a.. walk,’ steve answers, using your excuse.

‘in your boxers?’ robin adds, nodding at his lack of clothing.

‘yes actually, quite refreshing,’ he answers, more confidently as he sits down next to tanya, choosing not to lean into her advances and instead picking up a slice of toast.

‘you’re lucky i don’t have any tools to castrate you here.. you’ve gotta learn how to be fucking quiet dingus.. disgusting,’ robin laughs, throwing a rogue piece of bread at his head.

tanya looks over at steve with a furrowed brow, ‘but we.. we didn’t?’ the cogs slowly turning in her brain.

you stare intently at the table, trying to keep a straight face, still chewing on the bite of toast.

‘must’ve been.. the wind or something,’ steve pats tanya on the knee.

she nods, still not really grasping the situation.

jonathan has already clocked on to what’s happened, eyes flicking between you and steve while nancy slowly comes to the same realisation.

‘what?’ robin looks around at everyone’s expressions when it dawns on her and her face drops, ‘oh my fucking god.’

you close your eyes, slowly chewing on the bread and bracing for whatever robin was going to say next.

‘you have to be fucking kidding me,’ she bursts out laughing, slapping her hand on the table.

‘robin,’ steve warns, glaring at her.

tanya still hasn’t caught on and is sat looking puzzled.

‘no no, steve that is fucking hilarious,’ she continues to laugh, prodding you on the knee, causing you to look up at her.

‘am i missing something? i don’t.. i don’t get it,’ tanya states, shaking her head.

‘why don’t we uh.. have a chat?’ steve stands, placing his hand tenderly on her shoulder.

she follows him out into the living room, utterly puzzled.

nancy stares at you, a small pout on her face. robin is still cracking the fuck up and jonathan just looks bewildered.

‘look.. he came into my room and then.. he just.. it was stupid and.. and,’ you stumble through your words, trying to plead with your group of friends around the table.

‘chill,’ jonathan assures, he could tell that you were flustered and you flash him a small, appreciative smile.

‘so it wasn’t just a one time thing then?’ robin asks, a smile still plastered on her face.

‘well, no but it won’t happen again..’ you can’t even be totally sure that that statement was true.

‘look.. we don’t care, okay? i was worried that i’d have to choose between you and steve, but i don’t think there’s much chance of that happening,’ robin nods at you, her previous scepticism had worn off.

‘clearly there’s something going on there.. you should do what makes you happy,’ nancy shrugs.

you look up at her, appreciating her kind words and their sudden acceptance of whatever the hell was happening between you and steve.

‘but, i do think you should apologise to that girl.. even if she is an obvious tactic to make you jealous,’ nancy puts her hand on the table, giving you that stern, motherly look that she had perfected.

you nod in agreement, trying to stifle your smile.

steve walks back into the kitchen, no longer practically naked, ‘i’m gonna take tanya to the train station.. she said to thank you for having her though.’

you glance up at him but immediately looking away when his dark brown eyes meet yours.

nancy sighs, ‘makes sense..’ her eyes flit to you, ‘go.’

you roll your eyes and stand, walking into the living room where tanya is stuffing her belongings into her bag.

‘hey.. i just.. wanted to say sorry y’know? for.. uh- yeah,’ you speak up, although very awkwardly.

she looks at you, a blank stare on her face, ‘yeah, whatever.’

you purse your lips together, not really expecting much more from the girl and spin to walk back into the kitchen, bumping into steve who was stood watching your interaction.

his hand lands on your arm, ‘we’ll talk.. when i’m back.’

you nod slightly, noting the nearly missable smile on his lips, reciprocating with a tiny grin before moving around him and disappearing back into the kitchen.

‘well, i don’t think we’ll be seeing tanya again,’ you raise your brows, sitting back in your chair.

‘oh nooo,’ robin wails sarcastically.

nancy throws her that trademark glare again but she can’t help the smile creeping onto her face.

you dig into your breakfast properly, only now anxiously awaiting steve’s return. not sure what to even say to him, or what you were even thinking.

you hadn’t really thought about the possibility of you and steve actually becoming more than friends, after you had had sex you’d immediately written off any potential relationship blossoming for the sake of your friends.

but now you’d basically been given the approval from them all, could you do it? give it a real shot?

-

you’re in the garden sunbathing when steve comes back.

you don’t even notice until his shadow cascades over you and the heat of the sun is obstructed by his body.

you look up, removing your sunglasses and squinting at him.

‘wanna go for a walk?’ he asks, holding out his hand to you.

you sit up properly and nod, taking his hand and standing from the towel laid out on the grass.

he holds onto your hand as he guides you through the house and out of the front door.

‘i think we can get to the lake down here,’ he points to a thin path.

‘did you see that on your walk this morning?’ you joke.

‘ha ha,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘nancy told me about it,’ his fingers intertwined with yours.

‘did uh, did tanya say anything?’ you ask timidly, not really caring about the answer.

‘yeah.. she had a few interesting names for me on the way there,’ he chuckles, leading you down the cobbled path.

‘well.. i hope you apologised for dragging her out here.’

‘i did, i even paid for her train ticket,’ he states as you walk through the clearing in the trees and across the lake.

he slows, finding a shaded spot under a tree and turning to face you fully.

‘so,’ he holds onto your fingers, gazing down at you.

‘so..’

‘i think you already know what i think about you.. and i am totally down to keep having sex with you but i can’t promise that it would ever be just sex.. not for me anyway,’ his fingers squeeze onto yours.

you nod, looking back at him, ‘i don’t.. i don’t want that.’

‘okay..’ his smile falters and his clasp on your fingers loosen.

‘no, i mean.. i don’t want just sex,’ you reply, hoping that he’d understand.

‘oh? so you’ve changed your mind.. like i can take you out?’ the smile reappears on his face.

‘yeah,’ you agree, ‘that’d be nice.’

he grins from ear to ear, taking your other hand into his and squeezing, ‘like really? a proper date?’

‘yes,’ you giggle, ‘don’t ask again because i might change my mind,’ you interlock your fingers with his, pulling his body into yours.

you weren’t sure how this was going to end but you were happy enough to at least give it a shot.

[myosotisa]

Like Real People Do - e.m.

Part 2/2 - What did you bury?

ǁ  summary: After your altercation with Eddie, you find yourself facing a lot of questions and uncertainty. Attempting to look closer at why you're in rehab, how you feel about him, and what the future holds for you feels like more than you're willing to take on until you realize it's only hurting you more not to.

ǁ  tags: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy themes. depictions of inpatient rehab in the 90s. implied fem!Reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. strangers to reluctant acquaintances to lovers. happy ending!

ǁ  content warning: both parts will contain mentions of drug use, struggling with addiction, self worth, society's view on drug users, grief, and death by drug overdose. brief mention of domestic violence and drug assisted disordered eating. please consume thoughtfully and if you have any questions before reading, feel free to message me.

ǁ  word count: 12k

ǁ  Part 1 ǁ  Read on AO3 ǁ

It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people. ― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

You’re sitting on an examination table in the hospital wing in a paper gown with Dr. Lincoln fluttering around you like a nervous mother. Penelope had taken you right here after you had gotten all of the dirt off of your hands and pants, explaining Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln insisted on seeing you. Despite your assurances that you were completely fine, just shaken up, they had gotten you into a gown and prepared for a full exam.

“Are you able to lift your arms above your head?”

You do as asked, face stoic despite the pain in your shoulders from the movement.

“How about twisting? Carefully! How does that feel on your lower back?”

Performing the action, you also easily hide the discomfort the throbbing in your tailbone causes when you shift in your seat. “It feels fine.”

“And your head? You didn’t hit it? Does it hurt? Blurry vision, nausea, confusion?”

“No,” you sigh out, quickly losing patience with Dr. Lincoln’s anxious questioning. You can’t remember now if he was like this when you were first admitted or if he’s going overboard now because he’s worried about some kind of lawsuit. “I told you, I’m fine.”

He plucks your chart off the edge of the table, pen clicking as he begins to write furious lines along the bottom of the page. “I can give you some ibuprofen for the pain. Nothing stronger than that, of course. Given the circumstances.”

A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. “I don’t want anything. It doesn’t hurt.”

Liar.

Penelope steps up from where she was having a hushed discussion with Mr. Ford off to the side. “Are you sure? It looked like quite the fall.”

“I’m sure. I don’t want any painkillers.”

This pain is good. I need it. I deserve it.

Mr. Richard Ford steps up then – a severe looking man in his late 50s, always dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie, with his hair combed just so and his mustache neatly trimmed across his upper lip. You’re still not sure if he’s related to the Ford’s that founded the facility or if it’s just a coincidence that he shares the surname.

His dress shoes click across the tiles as he approaches you, throat clearing uncomfortably when he enters the circle that has formed around the table. “Miss…” He looks down at your file and repeats your last name like he’s never read it before, earning him a cold glare from Penelope. “I am deeply sorry for what occurred. I assure you we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here.” He adjusts his tie along with his posture, looking proud as he explains, “We’re already in the process of having Mr. Munson transferred to another facility.”

A lick of panic rockets up your spine. “No.” 3 sets of eyes lock on you, emotions ranging from curious to concerned. “You don’t have to do that.” Your fingers curl into fists where they sit on your thighs before relaxing, taking some of the tension in your body with it. “I don’t want you to transfer him.”

He seems to hesitate then, bushy eyebrows drawing together on his wrinkled forehead. “Are you positive? It’s important to us that you feel safe here.”

“I do feel safe here,” you press, looking back and forth between the three of them before settling on Penelope. “It was an accident. Eddie’s barely into his detox – barely started therapy – and I should’ve known better than to get into an argument with him.” Her face remains passive, unreadable. No insight into how she feels about what you’re saying. “It’s my fault as much as his. It wouldn’t be fair to move him, not when he’s struggling this much, this early into his treatment. I don’t want him moved.”

“That’s very kind of you, but you should be more concerned about yourself.” Dr. Lincoln takes a small step forward, adjusting the collar of your gown to take another look at the quickly forming bruises near your collarbone. “You’re not worried about something like this happening again with him, maybe even worse?”

You think back to the moment you hit the ground. Looking up at him, silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun, leaving almost all of him cast in shadow. The way he looked utterly terrified at what he’d done. How quickly he had tried to apologize when he came back to himself.

Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.

“No, it’s fi–” Hazel eyes narrow into a squint, stopping your sentence in its tracks. Another deep breath, in and out, and you try again. “I’m not worried. He won’t do something like this again. I want him to stay.”

A few moments of silence follows your declaration, Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln glancing at each other before looking to Penelope. Her calculating gaze remains on you, entirely unwavering even as the other two stare holes into the sides of her face. For the first time, you make a conscious effort to keep eye contact, to remain firm despite your desire to shy away.

The corner of her mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in response.

“Then that settles it.” She clasps her hands together in front of her stomach, looking back and forth between the men beside her with a placating smile. “Mr. Munson will stay, pending further transgressions.”

Your shoulders sag in a relief you hadn’t anticipated feeling, but you’re quick to straighten when she addresses you again. “Any other incidents, with you or any other resident, and he will be moved to another facility. Understood?”

It feels like a lifeline. Like a chance. Like an opportunity.

If you want him here, then help him stay.

“Understood.”

The next morning when you walk out for breakfast at 8:30 sharp, there’s something sitting on your table. It strikes you as odd immediately given you’re one of the first people out of your room today and there doesn’t seem to be anyone milling around. You withhold your curiosity – follow the same pattern of line, meds, line, breakfast. Stamp down the nervous feeling in your gut as you cautiously approach.

Completely dusted free of dirt and with your bookmark perfectly in place, is Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It had completely slipped your mind that you’d even dropped it. You place down your tray with shaky hands and pick it up, flipping through the pages like you’re checking it for wounds. There’s no note, no sign, nothing that could indicate who brought it back for you.

But you know who. It scares you half to death that you know just who, that you know it with certainty.

When is the last time anything felt certain?

The question lingers, festers, and grows as you push around your food and wait for him to plop down in front of you. Imagining what stupid thing he might say, how you would brush it off with a groan and a snarky comment, how he would take that reaction with a smile and never press for more. 

He never shows.

It’s with great annoyance that you find yourself looking for him all day. Sitting in your chair by the window, you glance up every half a page to see if you can catch a glimpse of his shaggy hair around the hall. You actually take a walk during your outside time instead of hiding, and you tell yourself it’s because you want the exercise and it’s finally cool enough outside to not sweat your balls off, but that doesn’t exactly account for the way your eyes search the grounds for any sign of tattooed forearms and lanky legs.

When you walk into Therapy House with the others that afternoon, Eddie is already inside. He’s in the chair beside Penelope, slumped down so far most of his ass is hanging off the edge, legs out long, and looking every bit a kicked puppy. You silently beg him to make eye contact with you as you sit, willing your stare into a physical sensation that might force him to just look at you.

He doesn’t look away from his own hands once, silent as a mouse the entire session.

The moment group is over and the counselors come around to collect their first resident of the day, you’re walking across the sunbathed birch wood floors and stopping short just behind him before you can even think about it.

“Eddie,” it comes out as a sigh, eyes pinned to the way his shoulder blades tense before your very eyes, “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’ve, uh… Been in here, for the most part,” he explains over his shoulder, still not turning to face you. His voice is hoarse around the edges, ragged and torn from overuse.

“Oh, okay.” Your face pinches in concern, hand raising like you want to reach out to him but hesitating there. “About… about yesterday–”

“Sorry,” he cuts you off sharply, turning halfway toward you with red-rimmed eyes still trained on the floor, “I’ve gotta go.”

He’s halfway across the room and climbing up the stairs to the lofts two at a time before you can say another word.

The image of the swollen redness around his teary eyes, half covered by his hair as he refuses to look at you for even a moment, haunts you for the rest of the week.

“So, how are you feeling today?”

Penelope is dressed in a teal silk blouse. It washes out her skin tone and the boat neckline makes her shoulders look too small. Not to mention the strange height of the cinch just below her bust, giving it the appearance of a child’s nightgown. Plainly, it looks really bad on her. All of her clothes are carefully curated and fashion forward – meant to make a statement about who she is and the authority she holds. This is absolutely not making that statement. And you were staring at it for all of group, trying to wrap your head around what it meant.

“Who gave you that shirt?”

This might be the first time she’s ever looked even half surprised at something you’ve said, her lips parting slightly as she glances down at her chest like she had forgotten what she was wearing. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she looks back at you, passive expression back in place.

“You would’ve never bought it, I’m surprised you’re allowing yourself to be seen in it,” you continue, eyes narrowing into a squint as you continue to search it and her for clues. “The fact that you’re wearing it makes me think someone gave it to you and you’re going to see them today, so you felt obligated to wear it to please them. Maybe one of your parents or a sibling or a friend… A partner?”

She uncrosses her legs just to recross in the other direction, attempting to appear amused as you explain. Gotcha.

“A partner, then. One who obviously doesn’t know you very well, or doesn’t understand fashion at all, because the color is god awful and the shape even worse. But you want to impress them enough that you’re willing to wear it anyway.”

If it was an after work date, she would’ve changed after. So it’s someone she would mostly see during her normal day. Plus, she lives and breathes her job, when would she have had time to meet someone?

“I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to what I wear… Or that you were so into fashion,” she offers casually. Too casually to play off.

A bit too sharp, a bit too pointed, you snap back. “I’m not into fashion and you’re deflecting.”

She blinks at you for a few moments before she settles back into her chair, draping her arms over her stomach. “And you’re projecting.”

“No, I’m not,” and it comes out defensive. Too defensive to play off.

So then the quiet kicks in. Queen Penelope Windsor’s beloved uncomfortable silence. Part of you is convinced one of her professors taught her that awkward silence is an invaluable tool in psychiatry. You want to know who that professor is, so you can inform them how utterly wrong they are.

Penelope is, however, utterly right.

“I’m projecting,” you concede, gaze casting down to your lap to settle into the discomfort.

Her pen clicks and it feels like salt in your wound. “Okay then. Would you like to talk about what you’re avoiding?”

And maybe you’re not quite done being snarky when you reply, “Isn’t the whole point of deflecting because you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It can be. But I still would like to give you the opportunity to. You never know, it might help you feel better.”

Your eyes roll hard enough to just see white for a moment, looking off to the stupid little white noise machine in the corner. It’s the size of a radio clock and sits directly on the floor by the door – you’ve almost tripped on it 10 times.

Probably an accessibility hazard. Someone should really complain about that. If someone less coordinated, or even Thomas with his cane, tried to walk in they could really get hurt.

“Fuck!” The exclamation comes from nowhere, probably just barely loud enough to draw attention from outside the room. Penelope remains incredibly passive despite the sudden change in your attitude, not making a move or a sound as you bury your face in your hands with your elbows propped on your thighs.

Probably just interrupted other therapy sessions. Made them lose track of what they are talking about. Maybe even triggered someone unintentionally with your sudden yell. Great job, idiot.

Digging your nails into the skin along your hairline, you take in a hissing breath through your teeth and attempt to exhale some of the tension. It’s been weaving through your muscles all week, infecting all of your time, distracting you at all hours of the day. A part of you hoped it was just another phase in recovery but it just keeps getting worse and worse.

Penelope’s voice is softer when she speaks next, more cautious. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking about right now that’s distressing you?”

“It’s the fact that I’m fucking thinking that’s distressing me.”

Realizing that probably doesn’t help at all, and most likely makes you sound insane, you release your hands to clasp tightly in your lap as you raise your head to look at her again. “I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop noticing everything. I can’t stop.”

“Okay,” she gives a small nod of encouragement, sliding her notebook further into her lap to focus more attention on you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything. Your shirt and the noise machine and how someone could trip on it and hurt themselves. And how we are required to have 1 hour outside a day but half of us sit in the shade the entire time because it’s too hot or we don’t want to get sunburnt, and they aren’t exactly going to start stocking sunscreen and ointment just to facilitate 60 minutes in the sun. I’m thinking about how I finally figured out that there’s a different cook on the weekends and that’s why the stupid scrambled eggs they make us every day are oversalted Friday through Sunday and undersalted all the other days. I’m thinking about how all of the books in the library used to have an organization system but no one takes care of it – so all the books are all in the wrong places and now I feel like I have to take some of my free time to fix it because I know nobody else will, even though I can’t figure out why I fucking care so much. I’m thinking about how you asked me to help Eddie so he could stay here in recovery and I want to do that because he latched on to me when he first got here and now I suddenly feel responsible for him, even though I didn’t even like the guy at first, and now he won’t even fucking talk to me so I can’t do that.”

You inhale sharply, talking way too fast but unable to stop. “I’m thinking about how this facility is built to house 50 people or more but only gets one new resident a month, maybe two. So why is it so big? Why not bring in more people? Probably because they’re only accepting the people willing to turn out their wallets in order to get help or because they know someone who will so then all the people who really need help are left to fucking die under highways and in abandoned buildings because if they don’t have money, they don’t fucking mean anything to anyone. But for some reason I still care about that and feel bad about it and feel responsible for it even though there is literally nothing I could possibly do to change any of it.”

Another heaving breath that makes your chest feel too tight and you’re squeezing your eyes shut against the brunt of the pressure. “I can’t stop thinking about everything and I feel like it’s fucking crushing me and I just want something to turn my brain off – but that’s the entire fucking reason I’m here in the first place. I started using because I just wanted something to numb it all.”

The admission feels like a slap across the face. Like being dunked head first in ice water. The reality of where you started. 

The sprawling, trembling fault line that led you here – to where the tectonic plates move and shift. Where the earthquakes, that used to feel like subtle vibration in the dirt beneath your feet, now knock you to the ground with ease. Standing on the edge of the chasm between that you’re still not ready to cross.

Because what’s on the other side?

And what if I fall through?

The next week of your life passes in a sort-of overwhelmed daze. The realization of that pit before you– what it means, what it could do. It hangs around like a spirit haunting your home. It’s always been there, you just couldn’t see it, too focused on your own feet and keeping them moving to see anything beyond the inches of ground in front of you.

Now, the inches of ground before you are darkness. Unfathomably deep and impenetrably dark. And on the other side, there’s sun. Grass. Trees.

Shouldn’t I want to get there? Shouldn’t I be excited to jump?

The questions follow you through your days on autopilot as you keep to your schedule.

On the two week anniversary of your argument with Eddie, Penelope announces that, instead of talking in a circle for group today, she’ll be pairing you off into partners to play games. Trust exercises, she assures you when you all look at each other like she’s lost her mind. It wasn’t the first time she had used her slot of time to do some kind of activity – but it hadn’t been something like this.

And really you should have seen it coming.

Because Queen Penelope, in her oh so infinite wisdom, points you and Eddie to a pair of chairs facing each other below the skylight. While Eddie shows little to no reaction as he shuffles over, you cast a pleading look at her. Hoping to get across some of the betrayal you’re feeling in your eyes.

She just smiles. Meets you with silence before shuffling around the other pairs of residents throughout the room.

When you sit down on the metal folding chair across from him, you get your first good look since the day after you’d argued. The last few times you’d seen him, he looked no better than a zombie – half awake and half asleep as he went through his days. He’d kept quiet for the most part in group, only adding in a sentence or two at times, and left his 1 on 1 session in the lofts with red rimmed eyes and looking about ready to pass out. But he’d also gotten into the habit of playing cards most days with his roommate, Howard. And while you couldn’t imagine the gruff old man of few words was very good company to keep, sometimes you could have sworn you’d look over and see them smiling.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

The both of you wordlessly adjust on the seats, warmed by the sunshine filtering through the circular window overhead. Penelope had placed the chairs close enough together that, with his long legs, you both accidentally kept knocking knees. The third time, you muttered, “Sorry,” which brought a small smile to his face.

He ends up with his knees splayed wide, hands resting on his thighs, while you bring your knees in tight together, propping your feet up on the bar beneath your chair as you settle into soft tapping of your fingertips near your knees. Beyond your apology, neither of you say a word or make any eye contact as you watch Penelope and wait for instruction.

“So, the aim of the exercise is simple,” she explains, projecting her voice slightly as her heels click along the wood, “it’s a question and answer. Going back and forth to learn more about each other, being as honest as you’re comfortable being. This is not supposed to be something that causes you intense distress. But don’t be afraid to lean into some discomfort if you feel it. You might end up discovering something valuable about yourself.”

When you glance back at Eddie, his big brown eyes are already looking at you.

A warm feeling creeps up your spine, your fingers twitching in your lap as you adjust to the unexpected attention. His expression is pensive, gentle… Soft. He doesn’t look mad, or hurt, or upset. He’s looking at you like he’s happy you’re here – sitting across from him in the subtle heat of the sun. And while you’re glad he doesn’t seem upset to be forced to speak with you, you’re more confused than anything.

In a move that surprises even yourself, you break the silence first. “Hey.”

His chest rises in a deep inhale, shoulders and arms relaxing on the long exhale before he responds. “Hey.” You offer a small, slightly awkward smile, and he mirrors it as you adjust to tuck your hands under your thighs, bringing your shoulders slightly forward. “I wanted to apologize.”

Blinking at him a few times, you manage an unsure, “Oh?”

“You were right,” he sighs, hands coming together over his abdomen to fiddle with his own fingers. “I… I needed a wakeup call. Some sense knocked into me.” The corners of his eyes pinch up in pain before he returns your eye contact again. “I’m just really, really sorry it came from hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you rush to try to assure him, pushing away the ache of the bruises that have faded from your tailbone, “I was more just shocked than anything.”

He winces, forefinger and thumb pinching some skin between his nails. “I appreciate you saying so, but you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.” His eyes cast down to your knees before he continues, “I know what a push like that can do.”

Unsure exactly how to take that statement, mind absolutely swirling with possible solutions, you swallow dryly and offer an, “Okay.”

Tense silence falls back over you both, the murmured conversations of other residents echoing throughout the open space into a white noise of unintelligible words. You sit and you wait as Eddie rubs the pads of his thumbs together, lower lip drawing up between his teeth as he continues to stare at your knees. He looks deep in thought – eyebrows twitching together a few times before he seems to remember himself again. Adjusting to sit up straighter in his chair, one of his knees knocks against the outside of yours before he clears his throat. “What are we, uh, supposed to be doing again?”

“Asking each other questions.”

A small scoff leaves his lips in a puff of air, the corner tilting up in amusement. “Like asking what’s your favorite color and shit?”

A soft smile and a smaller shake of your head, you flex your feet to point your toes toward the floor before relaxing again. “I think it’s supposed to be more drug and rehab and therapy related shit but… She really didn’t specify.”

“Ah… A tempting loophole,” he agrees, nodding his head as if he’s really thinking about it. “But I guess we should try to do what the good therapist thinks will help us, huh?”

A wistful sigh leaves you as you roll your shoulders back to sit up straighter. “I guess so. You can start.”

“Oh, shit.” You laugh softly at the awkward face he pulls when you put him on the spot, and the sound seems to put him at ease. “Okay… Oh! I asked you a couple weeks ago what you were in for. Like what you are, were, addicted to?”

A simple enough question, you answer quickly. “Oxycodone. And Alcohol. Normally together, I guess.”

If he’s surprised by your answer, he doesn’t show it, just lets out a low whistle through the side of his mouth. “Downers and downers, huh?”

“Yup,” you confirm, pressing your lips together and offering an awkward shrug. “What about you? You’ve mentioned coke and meth before…?”

“Mostly coke, meth, and alcohol,” his head rocks slowly back and forth in a nod. “But I’ve probably done a bit of everything – ecstasy, xanax, opioids, ketamine, the works.”

“Truly a man of culture,” you attempt as a joke, and his half smile tells you that you were successful.

“You could say that. So how’d you start? Using, I mean.”

“Like, where did I get it?” He shrugs and waves for you to continue with that thought. “A friend of mine, she was already involved in… All of it. And offered to connect me.”

“A stellar friend,” is his attempt at another joke.

The statement twists in your chest painfully, the cold feeling seeping out like a wrung washcloth. A sad smile and a deep breath to try to move past it. “And you? How’d you start?”

“Are you just gonna repeat all of my questions? Feels kinda unfair.”

“I’ll come up with a new one after this. Scout’s honor.”

He snorts, cracking a smile as he shakes his head again. “I don’t think you’re allowed to use that if you’re not a boy scout, but okay.” You’re about ready to retort back that he doesn’t know that you weren’t really a boy scout, but he answers your question before you can. “I was a dealer, back in high school. After my buddy Rick got arrested, I took over the mantle. Mostly just weed to suburban kids. I had other shit but didn’t sell it often. Back then, I needed the money more than I needed to sample the merchandise so… I would only smoke weed once in a blue moon when I had the extra stock.”

“As for when I really started…” He looks back down at his hands in his lap. “Our first tour. It was hectic – fucking nuts. More than we ever thought it would be. But we were living out our dream, y’know? It was like being in a fuckin’ movie sometimes.” A small, wistful smile tilts his mouth as he recalls the memories. “We were going 24/7 between the travel and the concerts and the afterparties. At one of ‘em, someone, understandably, brought the white shit.” The knuckles in his hands momentarily turn white as he grips them together, a subtle show of tension before they relax again. “You can, uh… You probably know where it goes from there.”

“I can assume, yeah,” it comes out softer than you thought it would, affected by his vulnerability. The Eddie you met on his first day would’ve never done anything like this. Would’ve never even spoken like this. How had so much changed so quickly? How had he surpassed you?

“Okay, how about…” Like he’s trying to bring some life back into himself and you, he begins a drumming tap on his thighs, shoulders rolling forward as he applies himself to the motion. You don’t bother to try to withhold your laugh, feeling your nose crinkle with the force of it. His chin tips up towards the sun, a cheeky grin splitting to show the whites of his teeth as he starts to hum a single note out into the open space, an over dramatic representation of his thinking.

“Eddie!”

The sharp call has both of you freezing, faces dropping as you slowly turn toward where Penelope stands with her hands on her hips and a deep scowl. “A little quieter, please?”

Your lips press together tight to withhold your laugh as he offers her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

When he turns back to you, looking a little embarrassed and thoroughly scolded, you can stop the laugh from escaping you in a snort through your nose. “It’s not funny,” he mutters, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You got in trouble with mom,” you whisper yell, leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “It’s kinda funny.”

His expression breaks – smile stretching against his will as you make fun of him. “Yeah, yeah. I bet you’ve never even gotten in trouble before. Ever. At all.”

Taking it as a challenge, a single eyebrow raises as you lean back into your chair. “Is that your question?”

Intrigue showing clearly, he nods, hair shifting from behind him over his shoulders as he does so. “Sure, that feels close enough to the topic. Have you ever gotten in trouble before?”

Tapping the tip of your finger against your chin, you make a small show of trying to think about it even though you already know what you’re going to say. “Three times come to mind.”

“Three?!” He gasps, hand flying to his chest in mock drama. “Say it ain’t so.”

“First, I convinced my grandfather to buy this huge box of ice creams for dogs. He thought it was for us so, when he walked into the kitchen, and I was holding it down for my dog to lick, he immediately started to yell at me. When I told him that’s what it was meant for, I swear to god – I thought he was going to pop a fucking blood vessel he was so mad.”

Eddie snorts as he shakes his head back and forth slowly. “That would be the kind of thing you’d consider getting in trouble.”

“Hey!” You point an accusing finger at him, falling into this comfortable dynamic between the two of you. “I’m not done yet!” Putting his hands up in surrender, he mimes pulling a zipper across his mouth as he settles down to look at you again. “The second… Well, I got called to the principal's office in high school. Because,” you take a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable reaction you’ll get, “because some kids were spreading a rumor that I was sleeping with a teacher.”

This finally seems to entertain him, jaw dropping slightly as his eyes widen. “Well, did you?!”

“No!” You’re quick to deny, voice rising slightly in pitch as you do. His chin dips down, looking up through his eyelashes at you, extremely unconvinced. “I mean, I probably could have, but I didn’t want to!”

His head rocks back as another low whistle presses out of the corner of his mouth. “Wow, sunshine… Now that’s some juicy gossip. Have you mentioned that one to Melissa?”

Your foot kicks out, knocking into his shin hard enough for him to sit up straighter in surprise. “Shut it, Munson.”

“Okay, okay! Sorr-ee, geeze.” And yet he’s nothing but smiles as he returns to making eye contact with you. “And third?”

“Third was definitely drug related.” You’re quick to amend, tucking your hands back under your thighs. “I was picking up some oxy after completely running out. Desperate enough that I went to his apartment while the sun was up – which I always tried not to do.” His head dips in acknowledgment, showing he’s actively listening as you continue. “It must have been my lucky day because the bag was barely in my hand before the door slams open, police screaming his name and boots stomping inside.” Adrenaline kicking up slightly at the memory, you can vividly picture the way your skinhead dealer went deathly pale in mere seconds at the noise. “It was a good thing that I wasn’t on anything that day because before I knew it, I was out the window, down the fire escape, across the alley, and over a fence. I didn’t stop running until I ducked into a Walmart – hiding in the crowd.”

“Damn.” He sighs, looking impressed but attempting to sound disappointed. “There’s a bit of a rebel in you after all.”

And while you’re not exactly sure if it’s something to be proud of, you’re at least happy to earn his approval as you raise your chin slightly. “See? More to me than meets the eye.”

The moment between you stretches out a bit too long as he seems to appraise you, a soft smile made warmer by sparkling eyes. It takes some conscious effort not to react to his study – heart thumping hard in your chest a few times before he agrees. “Pretty metal, I’ll give you that.”

Exhaling some of the tension in your shoulders, relaxing more into your chair, you’re quick to try to move on from talking about you. “You said you were dealing because you needed the money. Were you saving up to move out or something?”

His expression shifts, smile turning awkward as he brings a hand up to hook behind his neck, bent arm laying beside his chest. “Not exactly.” Giving him your full attention and what you hope is an encouraging smile, he takes a deep breath before he begins. “I moved in with my uncle when I was a kid. My dad’s brother Wayne. My parents weren’t…” His mouth presses into a thin line as he tries to think of how to phrase it. “My dad ended up in jail and my mom didn’t have it in her to be a single mom. Hadn’t worked in a long time, didn’t have the money, all that. So she dropped me off with my uncle with a promise to try to get her life together and come back.”

The implication there is heavy enough, sorrow settling into your gut like a brick, but he still adds, “That, uh… That never happened. So it was just me and Wayne and his one bedroom trailer in a small town in Indiana.” His arm drops from his neck, hands coming together in his lap so he can fidget with his own fingers again. “He did the best he could for a guy who never expected to have a kid – more than I could ever ask for. Gave me his room, worked night shifts at the power plant to bring in cash, made sure the pantry was never empty. But it was more than that, y’know? He is… He taught me how to change the oil of my car, how to fix the little AC unit in my window, how to tie a tie.”

His lips part in a smile, his eyes far off as he tells you, “we used to play cards a lot. I swear, no one has a better poker face than Wayne. You wouldn’t guess it from the looks of him, but he used to make a killing in Texas Hold ‘em back before I came into the picture.” His face drops slightly at that, eyebrows tipping up in an emotion that he’s quick to shake off. “But he has a tell – I learned when I was 13. When he’s bluffing, he’ll do a little sniff as he’s leaning back from raising. It’s really hard to tell but it’s there.” His excitement grows again, fidgeting in his hands ceasing. “He had this crazy collection of hats and mugs, and the one time I accidentally knocked one off the shelf and it broke – man,” he exhales, shaking his head. “I thought he was gonna cry. Never that he was gonna scream or yell or try to hit me or send me away. He would just get so sad, like he was about to start tearing up, and I’d always fold – scrambling to apologize and asking what I could do to make it better.”

Brown eyes flick back up to yours, quickly followed by a dusting of pink across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. As if realizing he was getting off track, he clears his throat and says, “Anyway. It was always a struggle for him to get by, having to feed a boy with the appetite of a fucking rhino and everything else on top of that. So, when I got old enough, I started looking for anything I could do to bring some cash in. To try to… I mean, I could never repay him but like, to at least try to help, y’know?” You nod, not sure if he was actually looking for confirmation but he seems to appreciate the gesture regardless. “So I was doing odd jobs and started getting involved with stuff and eventually became an errand boy to Reefer Rick. Who I took over for when he got put away.”

Sensing a pause in his story, or at least what you perceive as one, you can’t withhold your curiosity as you press for more answers. “Is Wayne still alive? Like are you two still close?”

His face falls, that heavy feeling in your gut following closely after. “He’s alive, at least, as far as I know.” His attention is off in nowhere again as he visibly shrinks back as far as he can into the metal chair. “I went back to see him a year or so ago. I wasn’t doing so hot – couldn’t seem to even get out of bed without a line. He caught on pretty quick what was going on. Got more mad than I’d ever seen him.” He swallows harshly, attempting to get rid of the lump he feels growing there. “We both said some nasty shit – how he wasn’t really my dad and didn’t know what he was talking about. And he said I was turning into my dad, that I’d never looked more like him than I did that day. I stormed out. And we haven’t talked since.”

Your heart bleeds for the defeat you can see in his expression, the pain in the way he explains. How heavy it must be for him to carry that. While your first instinct is to offer apologies and words of comfort that really won’t matter much in the end, you settle for looking to the future. “Are you gonna reach out to him again? When you get clean?”

“I…” He looks confused then, hand coming up to rub at his forehead roughly before he settles. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Taking a deep breath of your own, you muster up some courage. “It’s not my place, at all, so feel free to tell me to fuck right off but… I feel like you should. I think he’d be happy for you.”

The sentiment rocks him – face twisting in a mix of emotions before he brings up both hands like he’s going to rub them off of his face. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”

Silence falls, heavier like it was before. The momentary comradery falling away to reality again – two strangers trying to figure out what the hell they were doing. The tension in the air is palpable, at least to you, as he continues to stare off for another minute or two because coming back into himself.

“So…” He clears his throat, anxiously adjusting in his seat and knocking against your knee again. “What made you decide to get help?”

The million dollar question.

Another thing you feel like you should’ve seen coming, should’ve prepared for in advance. But here you are: sitting across from a stranger you feel inexplicably tied to and faced with a question you still don’t know the answer to. The question that has hung over your head for the past week and half.

Why are you trying to get better?

“Well, ending up here – like, in rehab – was easier than the alternative. So that part wasn’t hard.” The skin between his eyebrows folds as he looks at you, a bit confused but not interrupting to ask for clarification as you continue. “As for why I’m getting help…”

The rest hangs there, suspended by hesitation. Uncertainty blooms in your chest like a burst of frozen air – like blue tipped fingers gripping your heart in their fist. A threat and a warning.

Eddie hits the toe of his shoe against yours, bringing your attention back to him. “You don’t have to answer. Not if… You don’t have to.”

And the sun is shining down on him from the skylight above, casting him in a glow. A soft auburn hue shines in his wiry hair, the red undertones coming forward in the sun. He’s still pale but you can see them now – freckles across his face and the skin just beyond the collar of his shirt like a dusting of cinnamon. Brown eyes that have a bit more life in them than they did before.

There’s still a sense of frost beneath his skin, half alive and freezing like it used to be, but it’s thawing. Warming. Before your eyes and beneath the light of day, Eddie Munson was coming out of his cold shadows, one small step at a time.

“But you can't just leave it at that!" said Anathema, pushing forward. "Think of all things you could do! Good things." "Like what?"

“I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.” Out comes the honest truth. Truth he wasn’t expecting based on the way his eyebrows raise, skin wrinkling beneath his bangs. “It feels like there should be this big reason – some grand goal or something that would be a good answer in a biography. And I don’t really have one of those. Not right now.”

There’s a long pause then, like he wants to make sure you’re not going to say anything else before he replies. “I don’t think it has to be something fantastical or anything like that. Maybe it would be a better story if it was but… I dunno, I think any reason is as good as any other.”

A self-deprecating smile and joking change of tone, you ask him, “Even if my reason is just because I want to make more bad jokes that people can’t decide if they want to laugh or groan at?”

His answering smile is filled with genuine determination when he tells you, “I think that’s a fucking stellar reason, sunshine.”

Your 60th day of rehab comes with a party.

Not for you, of course. It would be a lot of resources for the center to celebrate arbitrary anniversaries like that for every resident. No, this is a graduation party. A going away party. A ‘see you never’ kind of party.

When you walk back into the main hall after group, there’s a hastily made banner hung between the nurse’s station and the kitchen that says ‘Happy Graduation Tony!’ in shades of blue and yellow, with some splashes of green mixed in. There’s a weird animal drawn on the right side that you can’t identify – but you guess it’s supposed to be a wolverine based on the ‘Go Michigan Wolverines!’ underneath in blocky text.

There are various basketball-themed party decorations scattered throughout the tables, all looking like they came from a big wholesale package of party favors. It looks alarmingly like an 8 year old’s birthday party, but Tony’s smile is brighter than you’ve ever seen it as he laughs at the attempt Kathy, Melissa, and Thomas made at decorating for him.

The University of Michigan Wolverines is his favorite college basketball team, he explains to the rest of you as you look on confused. He gives Thomas a joyful ribbing at having remembered a comment like that in passing, and Thomas’ bashful smile makes even Howard soften with fondness as you all filter in among the tables. There’s music playing – a Best of 80’s CD spinning in a shitty old speaker system in the corner of the main hall that is barely used. Down Under by Men at Work plays softly as you settle down at one of the tables covered in plastic-y yellow, feeling lighter than you have in weeks watching Tony cross the room to where there’s a small selection of snacks and a sheet cake with his name written on it.

Eddie sits down beside you at the same time Howard sits down across from him, the older man immediately brandishing his deck of cards and arcing them into a professional shuffle. Lola, the newest resident, an older woman who kept taking morphine long after her hip surgery healed, sits down uneasily next to Howard, content to quietly watch him deal out the cards between himself and Eddie.

Switching back and forth between watching Eddie and Howard playing a game you can’t seem to identify and watching Melissa and Kathy grill Tony about what he’s going to do first when he gets out, you feel a sort of contentment. An emotion you’re so unused to, you’re not really sure what to do with it now that it’s sitting in front of you.

Two games in, Eddie drops his cards with a groan before pointing an accusing finger at Howard, who smirks in pride. “This isn’t over, Finbar.” And while your eyebrows draw together in confusion, lips parting in preparation to ask, Eddie keeps going before you can. “I’m going to go grab a water and some cookies, anyone want me to get anything while I’m up?”

Howard waves him off without a word, huffing as he has to lift up slightly off his chair to pull in the cards Eddie left on the other side of the table so he can shuffle the deck together again. Lola, in her syrupy, southern drawl, asks for a cup of water, if he doesn’t mind. A short nod and then he looks down from where he stands beside your seat, a gentle smile on his face as his eyebrows raise in expectancy. The words get caught in your throat for a moment before you are able to force them out. “A cup of water and some chocolate chip cookies would be great. Thank you.”

Another cheeky smile and a dip of his head and he’s walking off, lanky legs knocking against a chair or two like he’s a newborn calf who hasn’t learned how to walk steady yet. The sight makes you laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you turn back to the table.

Lola is watching you, eyes slightly narrowed, when you turn back, making you jolt backwards in surprise. “Y’all make a cute couple,” she says sweetly, with a smile just a kind as always.

“Couple?” You question in a slightly higher pitch, feeling the blood rushing north to warm your face and make your brain spin. “We’re – we’re not a couple. Just friends. We just met here, only a few weeks ago.”

“No?” Her head tilts in curiosity, but her expression reads like she knows something you don’t. Can see something you can’t. “That’s a shame. Looks like a match made in Heaven to me.”

Your jaw drops, mouth opening and closing uselessly, as you try to think of something you could possibly say to that when Eddie walks back up, shakily balancing three plastic cups of water between his hands and a packet of napkin wrapped something tucked under his chin. The waters are safely set on the table, one passed to Lola, who replies “thank you, sugar,” before he lifts his head, the packet falling directly into his now-free hands. Dropping into his chair, he sets the packet on the table before unfolding the white napkins to reveal several slightly smushed cookies.

“Oh,” he blinks a few times at them before offering you a sheepish smile. “Guess they didn’t quite survive the journey. Hope you don’t mind picking at crumbs?”

You shake your head, mischief infusing your smile as you tell him, “I don’t mind, I’ve always thought it would be kind of cool to be a pigeon.”

He snorts in amusement at the same time Howard rolls his eyes and Lola uses her hand to cover her smile. The mix of reactions is perfect – exactly what you were hoping for – as you pinch a big chunk of cookie between your fingers and pop it into your mouth while Howard deals out another hand of cards.

Your contentment continues through the next hour or two, watching as Eddie and Howard go back and forth between winning hands while songs play on – Come On, Eileen, followed by Pretty in Pink, and Africa.

When Melissa shrilly announces it’s time to cut the cake, everyone turns toward the front of the room while Billie Jean by Michael Jackson weaves its way into the open air. Tony laughs at himself and how his hands shake in nervousness, making jokes about how he feels like he’s at a wedding, as he cuts into the sheet cake directly through his name. Using the plastic serving utensil, he deposits a huge square on his paper plate, the ‘o’ from his name completely removed as everyone cheers and claps.

Looking incredibly embarrassed, he turns and gives a little bow to the crowd, missing Kathy as she reaches over the table to grab the huge slice. A sing-song call of his name, and you all watch as he turns and is met with the slice of cake to the face, white frosting smearing across his skin before the entire plate hits the floor with a dull slap. No one moves for a few moments, quiet enough you could hear a pin drop, until he starts to laugh. Almost the entire room joins in, cackling as he scoops frosting away from his eyes and shakes it out onto the floor.

Everyone who wants a slice of cake moves through to grab one before settling back down at the tables. And when you look over at Tony, glowing as he has an animated conversation with Melissa, you can see a small smearing of frosting across his cheek that no one seems willing to tell him is still there.

You all say goodbye to him that evening before the sun sets, watching as he departs out of the double doors with a bag slung over his shoulder and is immediately met by a young boy – a Michigan Wolverines jersey on his back as he tackles Tony around the waist in a tight hug. The doors click closed just as Tony’s hand meets the boy’s head in a rub, both sporting the exact same bright smile.

Despite being back on good terms, Eddie continues to sit across the room from you during group therapy sessions. You kind of like it better than way, not that you’d ever admit it to him. Sometimes you find yourself looking over for reactions to things people say and it makes it easier to give him your full attention when he adds to the conversation. Being able to sneak glances  without it being too obvious makes you feel a bit more comfortable than before.

And although you feel like you’ve been making progress, you still rarely join in the conversation in these group circle sessions, and you never talk about yourself in them. Penelope has never tried to push you – she is satisfied as long as you continue to make progress in 1 on 1 sessions. Talking in a group setting isn’t for everyone, she explained, but it can sometimes be more beneficial than you think it might be.

It just never struck you as something you wanted to do. It never spoke to you, as some people said. Besides, other people always had plenty they wanted to say after Penelope did a bit of prodding.

“I talked to my husband on the phone the other day,” Kathy admits following a small silence. She’s playing with the drawstrings on her sweatpants as she speaks. “We haven’t talked in a couple weeks – the kids have been staying with my mom while I’m here.”

Penelope shifts in her chair to face her more directly. “How did that go?”

“Bad,” she answers with a sigh, eyes falling closed for a second before she forces them back open. “I guess I was just hoping he misses me… Misses the kids, misses our life. But he actually seems like he’s happier now.”

“That must’ve hurt to think about.”

“It did. It does.” She takes a deep breath, eyebrows turning up in what looks like an attempt not to cry. “It’s hard to think that picturing going back home to be with him and Sarah and Ben is what really gets me through all this but he… It doesn’t seem like that’s what he pictures anymore.”

“No offense, Kathy, but he sounds like a dickhead.”

Her and Penelope both turn on Eddie, looking surprised and annoyed in that order. “Eddie, that’s not very nice.”

“No, it’s not,” he concedes, hands coming into play as he tucks his elbows into either side of his waist, “but neither is the way he treats you. I mean, the whole reason you ended up here is because he refused to help you – with anything! Ever! And left you to take care of him and the kids and the house and everything.”

Kathy’s face twists, looking conflicted. “Well, yes, but–”

“But he works to put food in the fridge. That’s what you’re gonna say, right?” Her mouth presses into a tight line before giving him a sharp nod. “And yeah, that’s important. Having money to survive is essential and all that. But so is taking care of yourself. And your kids. Taking care of your house. Those are all things people should try to do the best they can. Sure, a lot of people fall short sometimes. It can really suck trying to get everything done by yourself. But that’s what your partner is supposed to be for. To help you.”

Everyone watches on silently as Eddie continues, looking entirely impassioned in his defense of her. “Yeah, he works a job. But you work three jobs just trying to take care of yourself, him, and both your kids. It’s not fair. And it’s fucked up that he not only doesn’t do shit to help but also doesn’t appreciate how much fucking work it is for you and the fact that it was killing you.”

“I mean, that’s just how marriage works,” she tries to argue. “Men go to work and women take care of the house and the kids. I’m sure that’s how your parents did it.”

“No,” he answers with a humorless chuckle, “not even close.”

“Then what did they do?”

“My dad beat my mom.”

The room falls into a tense hush, all eyes on him. While a part of him still looks worked up from his debate with Kathy, and another looks angry at even admitting the fact, the rest of him looks like an exposed nerve. His shoulders shake slightly as he takes in a breath and lets it out just as slow. “He wasn’t… He wasn’t a good guy, my dad. Kind of a piece of shit actually. In and out of prison on assault, drug charges, petty theft, the works. And whenever he was out, he was coked out of his mind and making my mom’s life a living hell.”

Brown eyes descend to the floor as his voice wavers, clearing his throat to try to fix it. “I remember one time, I was 6? Maybe 7? My mom was trying to convince me to do my homework at the kitchen table. And in storms dear old dad, fresh snow on his nose, and already screaming.” His eyes close, hands clenching with white knuckles. “Mom always made sure to get in between us. She didn’t want him to hurt me. But I guess he was mad at me for something, and her getting in the way was even worse, because before I knew it she was on the floor.”

Teary eyes open, glancing up and meeting your gaze. Eyes entirely focused on you as a few tears escape with his blinks. “I can see it so clearly, y’know? My mom was on the floor, bruises around her eyes, begging him to stop. And my dad was standing over her with his fists clenched like he was ready to go another round.”

I know what a push like that can do.

Your mouth opens wordlessly when you realize – chest twisting in agony as he offers you a sad and knowing smile.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Because I don’t wanna end up like my dad.”

A feeling in the base of your stomach catches hot and burns. Ashes smolder and leak smoke up your esophagus until it brings tears to your eyes. Beneath the dull roar of your blood in your ears and the murmured ‘Thank you for sharing’ from Penelope, you can hear the tremble of the earth beneath your feet. A vibration that rumbles up through your bones in a cold shiver that breaks out across your back. Stones fall into the chasm before you as the world shakes and bends with the force of the quake. 

You stare into the cold darkness of the space between the tectonic plates and the cold darkness stares back.

“I have something I want to talk about.”

All eyes turn to you, a pair of wide brown iris the most important of all. Penelope is nothing but encouraging as she says, “By all means, what would you like to say?”

A deep breath in, an attempt to clear the smoke in your lungs, you force the words out into the open. “I… I want to talk about how I got here.” You pause, eyes leaving Eddie to glance over at Penelope to register her shock. “Why I’m here. Because I’ve never told anyone.”

“Okay,” is her simple reply, an attempt to be encouraging. But you’re already faltering, the cold creeping in and dampening the ashes until you return to making eye contact with Eddie. And while his expression shows very little, attention wholly focused on you, he does dip his head in a slight nod.

Go ahead, the movement says. You can do this.

“Two days before I got here, I was with my friend Luna.” The name feels like ice water down your throat, swallowing hard to try to push past it and keep going. “Luna was the one who got me into taking oxy in the first place. I’d told her I was too wound up all the time and couldn’t relax, too caught up in my head. She told me it would help. We’d been friends for a long time by that point. She… She’s my best friend. She saw me at my worst and didn’t blink an eye. And maybe it was a fucked up way of helping, but she was really just trying to help. Suggesting what she thought would help.”

“That day, she called me all excited. Saying she got some pills from a new guy and she couldn’t wait to try them. So I went over to her place like we always did. She was all excited about the new stuff, but in my head, it was just the same shit, so I told her I was going to take from the old stash of pills. I guess I didn’t want to waste them or something. She just kinda said whatever, your loss, didn’t fight me on it.”

The visuals start to press in now, like a slideshow playing behind your eyes. “I remember waking up in her bed. It was dark. I don’t know how long I was out for. I got up,” your feet hit pink shag carpet, “I called her name,” you look around the girly bedroom, barely lit by the lamp on the bedside table. “I was still pretty out of it. I walked out from around the bed and…”

Your eyes squeeze shut, head shaking to try to clear the images like an etch-a-sketch. It doesn’t work.

“She was on the floor. I thought maybe she was just in it but her – her lips a–and her fingers were blue and she wasn’t breathing. I called 911 but… She was already cold when they told me to check for a pulse.”

“Those new pills she was so excited to take were laced. Fentanyl. She overdosed. And… And maybe if I had been awake, y’know?” When you blink back into the room, there are tears pouring from your eyes, your breath coming in hiccuping gasps. Cutting yourself off from any more what if’s, you rub your forearm under your nose as you sniffle. “Anyway, I got picked up when the ambulance came. I don’t really know why they gave me the option but it was basically rehab or jail so it felt kind of like a no brainer.”

You huff a wet laugh, crossing your arms over your stomach as you try to fight back the sobs, breathing through the freezing cold feeling in your chest. “It’s easier to be here. Then to think about leaving,” you admit softly, eyes trained on Eddie’s shoes. “In here, I don’t have to see her stuff around my place. I don’t have to think about who I’m going to spend my Saturday’s with. I don’t… In here, I don’t have to face the fact that she’s gone.”

When your eyes meet his, they’re watery again. Red rimmed, swollen. His hands open and close on his thighs like he’s holding himself back. Pale, pink-toned fingers, cast in warm, gentle light from the sun above, that look like they want nothing more than to reach out to you.

Blue tipped fingers reach out from the cold below, a threat and a warning of what lies before you if you fail. But on the other side – the sun shines. There’s grass and cherry blossom trees and birds singing and music playing and life.

“She’s dead. And I can’t get her back. But I’m still here, and I still have a future. I… I want there to be a future.” 

You jump the gap.

Bright green grass folds beneath your sneakers as you cross the field, hand raised along your brow to search for a familiar face. It’s the first Saturday of July and there are people everywhere – blankets and lawn chairs and folding tables set up across the wide open greenery ringed with trees.

A familiar whistle echoes toward you, giving you a vague direction to continue your trek. Sweat collects at the base of your neck and trickles down your spine as you go, the heat of the summer sun bearing down despite your careful choice in clothing. You’re just about desperate for a drink when a familiar flop of brown hair catches your eye.

“Steve?” You call, hoping to confirm before you walk all the way over. His head swivels in a full circle before his eyes catch you, a grin stretching across his face as he waves you over.

Steve is a relatively new friend, you’ve only hung out with him a handful of times since you were introduced. He’s shirtless, cotton discarded after sweating through it, and a pair of shorts that show off an alarming large amount of his tan skin. He’s tucked under a large umbrella with Robin, another new friend. She’s draped over a beach chair with her head rolled back, an unbuttoned shirt hanging off her shoulders over a bikini top and a pair of oversized shorts. The closer you get to their blanket in the grass, the more clearly her complaining becomes.

“It’s so fucking hot,” she moans, arms flopped down beyond the sides of the chair. “Why did I agree to this?”

“The music is going to start soon, so shut it, Buckley.” He turns toward you, head tilting back as he braces his arms on his knees. “Hey, good to see you.”

“You too,” you set your things on one edge of the picnic blanket, dropping to your knees at the boundary of where the umbrella covers. “And good to see you too Rob, even though it looks like you’re actually melting.” She groans loudly, sliding further down in her chair as you laugh. “Speaking of melting, cooler?”

Steve heaves it over his lap toward you and opens the lid, twisting back toward another bag as you dig through the melting ice and drinks. Drink in hand and an ice cube in the other, you use your elbow to close the lid again before pressing the ice cube to the nape of your neck in an attempt to get some relief from the heat.

Just as your mouth opens to ask, you hear an, “Incoming!” ring out right before a heavy object makes impact with your side, knocking you into the cooler with a yelp. The furry projectile pants wildly as it rights itself from its sprawl across the blanket, paws immediately climbing up onto your thighs in a happy greeting.

“Hey Oz,” you laugh, chin receding into your neck as you try to dodge his eager licks toward your mouth. “Are you having a good day, buddy?”

“He better be after the fucking pain in my ass he’s been all morning.”

Both hands scratching at the dog’s ears, both to calm him and keep him away from your face, you tilt your head back to catch sight of warm brown eyes. Eddie’s hair is pulled up into a messy bun on the back of his head, the wisps by his ears and parts of his bangs slicked down with sweat. He’s in a tank top that looks like a modified graphic tee, arm holes cut absurdly low to show off almost the entirety of his tattooed ribs. As he settles onto the blanket beside you, the light wash ripped cut off shorts he’s wearing stretch further to show more of his thighs.

His arm loops around your back, hand pressing into your ear as he directs your head lower so he can press a happy kiss to your temple. “Hey sunshine. Have any trouble finding us?”

The heat suddenly feels more like it’s diffusing from the inside out as your smile grows. You shake your head as you sit up straight again, Eddie’s arm still propped behind your back. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I could hear your stupid dog whistle from space.”

“Hey!” He cries in mock offense, leaning away from you as he yanks on the purple plastic whistle around his neck. “The training is going really well with it, actually! So shove it.” And he ducks down toward the pup sitting in front of you, coming to eye level as he says, “Isn’t that right, Ozzy?” The dog lunges forward in an attempt to lick his face but Eddie’s expecting it, blocking the attack and using a gentle force to push the dog down onto his side. “Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy!” He chants as he rapidly rubs the pup’s stomach, both of them shaking with excitement.

“Munson, you’re gonna work him up again and the fuckin’ music is about to start!”

Eddie sighs in disappointment, slowing his scratches and rubs considerably, running his hands along fur in an attempt to calm the dog. “I know, buddy. Your mom is so lame and doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Steve levels another glare at him, leaning back on one arm as he complains, “I’m not his mom. We’re both dads, dude.”

“Don’t listen to him, Ozzy. That man is your mom and you know it.”

The dog doesn’t care either way but does settle, laying out long with his belly in the sun just as some speaker feedback echoes out into the space around you.

“Finally!” Robin sighs in relief, pulling her sunglasses down her nose as she lifts her head. “I was starting to think we were roasting out here for nothing. Might as well be in Hell for how hot it is outside.”

Steve snorts, cracking open a gatorade as he explains, “Pretty sure Hell would be way hotter than this.”

“How do you know, dingus? Have you been?”

And the two start to bicker, something you’ve come to learn is a pretty common occurrence. Tuning out of their platonic marital dispute, you look back toward your boyfriend only to find him already looking at you.

“If Hell is this hot, I never wanna go,” you joke, vaguely aware of the sweat that continues to collect on your skin and how much you dislike the feeling.

“I dunno babe,” Eddie sighs long and loud, head tilting your direction as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, smile tilting in mischief. “It is said that the Devil has all the best tunes.”

The cherry blossoms in your chest unfurl in the heat of the sun, petals stretching out at the same rate as the smile parting to show the whites of your teeth. A soft laugh of disbelief, a grin that matches your own, and you’re quoting Good Omens back at him by saying, “It’s true. But Heaven has the best choreographers.”

And he laughs. Head thrown back, the sun’s rays grace the planes of his face as he barks out laughter into the blue sky above. Robin and Steve look at each other confused before shrugging slightly and then you’re laughing too. Falling backwards onto the blanket beneath you, you roll with it, shoulder knocking against Eddie’s when he falls backwards too.

Warm with the heat of the day, the music pouring out across the field, and the hope of a day just as bright tomorrow – you and Eddie laugh like it’s the best joke you’ve ever heard. Like there would never be a better joke than this.

If you want to imagine the future: imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. ― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

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thank you so much for reading. the response to this story was more than i thought it would be and i hope you're satisfied with the ending. i'm grateful you chose to come on this journey with me. i hope you find your way to greener grass and gentle sun whenever you're ready to find it &lt;3

[moonartemisia]

A Thought of You || Tsukishima Kei × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Anniversary years, you and Kei are already in a 4th year relationship. For how many annoying years of teasing, loving, the arguments the two of you ever shared, and the lowest times the two of you ever needed each other's side. You thought of surprising him for your anniversary, but things have gotten a bigger, yet memorable feeling had happen.

tags: fluff, time-skip, college au, anniversaries, skinships

Note: In participating of @sugarbebenireo love language collab thank you so much for letting me join in this event! I had ideas already on where should I start writing once more. Please enjoy reading!

"Will this be enough?" You mumbled through your way, walking, carrying a box that has strawberry prints on the packaging. In a rush and worried state, you settled on your phone to check the time with a notification from the calendar; alarming the title "Happy Anniversary." It was today, so you were in a hurry.

I completely forgot about our anniversary, busy with requirements, exams, reviews... This and that, THIS and THAT—

Keeping your surprise for him has cut short due to time. You have other plans in mind. College seems to be a hectic hell for the both of you, but rest assured you and Tsukishima always plan a way to spend quality time over such a busy year. You awfully felt disappointed as this day was your last exam day. It ended after, eventually, and head off.

"A strawberry shortcake will be fine. Nothing beats up to a simple celebration."

However, you paused for a bit and noticed something.

Ah, right... the tall blonde has prefecture divisions today. Damn it.

Though, that doesn't stop you. After all, this is a perfect chance to think of an idea for your anniversary.

"Ah, better take my focus on preparing a small party for us. That won't hurt much, as long as when he gets home from the match."

Sadly, you haven't thought of coming there to watch and surprise him. Probably your absence will be at best. You're sure Tsukishima will understand. This is your opportunity to get busy with everything in your hands.

It didn't take you long enough to add decorations at your dorm that you and him shared. You thoughtfully recalled how you and Tsukishima wanted a dorm solely for the two of you. Amidst the enrolment, supposedly Tsukki was assigned into some other room at the dorm. Fortunately, things have settled with the arrangements with the landlord of the dorms. Eventually, it ended just as both of you wanted.

Everything has its memorable course, especially the best feeling of entering the same college as him. Thus, Tsukki now known volleyball players in the divisions. You were proud.

Those random thoughts of you and him together for long lingered as you blushed. You never expected how far your relationship with Tsukki exceeded. Sighing underneath your breath, you carefully placed the shortcake on top of a small coffee table; with a number 4 candle along with a stand saying "Happy Anniversary" behind it.

"That should do it!" You proudly chimed at your efforts, waiting for him to come home soon.

2 hours passed, and Tsukishima wasn't home. You began to worry, overthinking if he was in overtime. Picking up your phone again as you saw no messages from him. It really bothers you, Tsukishima may timely update you on important matters. So what happened?

Frankly, enough to overthink his late presence, you decided to call him on the way. You don't want to waste your efforts on this special day with him. Or maybe just to reassure you if there are things going on.

I knew he was on his division match today. Isn't he already overtime now? I'm not sure if he is... or did he forget our anniversary?

Although with so many ring calls, the blonde hasn't picked up the phone on your line. You decided not to give another call on his contact upon your frustrations. A sigh let out your breath, still waiting for him.

Until a soft ping notified you

Kei—?!

You saw his message. Quickly, you jolted from your seat seeing his response.

"Are you already home from uni? Come down, I'm already in front of our dorm's entrance. Sorry for not replying."

He ordered you to come down for a bit. That's odd?

Hurriedly so, you did. You can't wait to see him and give him a congratulatory surprise after his match, right? Carefully following down the stair aisle as you opened the door through the main gate in front of the dorm. You can already see Tsukishima as told.

He is all dressed up... casually formal in his usual apparel. The glasses skimmed the clear lenses with his signature smirking face that you fell for. It deemed your bashful reaction to his appearance.

"What— I mean... your game, is it finished?"

"Yeah, we won... so I came up quickly just to prepare."

He walked towards the gate, volunteering you opened it for him to get inside. Tsukishima's ears turned rose red as he stared at you.

"I saw your missed calls, but I'm aware of our anniversary. It just hits our day that we've been busy. Even if it means to... I managed to end the time just to spend it with you."

"Kei..."

"I've booked a reservation just near our block. I can already see you haven't changed your clothes from earlier."

It didn't mind about it, you were busy planning a small party for both of you inside. But, that's another surprise for now, nonetheless. Tsukishima actually planned the same thing for your anniversary. A simple planned date which you never expect.

"Surprise, surprise... I didn't know."

You answered, chuckling.

"Ah, well, there's nothing I can think of. Dates with you always have been the goofy times."

"I actually also planned the same thing as well. Maybe come inside?"

The tall middle blocker blinked, "You also prepared a surprise for me?"

"Well, come inside and I'll show you."

Entering the dorm with Tsukishima, slowly stepping onto your shared room — reaching a hand as you slowly opened the door. The lights were dimmed, yet flickered with led lights and a glowing moon ambiance of the room filled. There were strings of stars hanging quite up the ceiling. Lastly, showing the main area where the strawberry shortcake was placed on the coffee table you put.

"Here, it isn't much since I got from our uni while you were in your division match. Happy Anniversary, Kei."

Greeting your man a warm smile, and it gladly paid off your efforts in preparing this moment for the two of you. Tsukishima couldn't help but chuckled at this cute setup you idealised. Especially the moon, since he is your moon.

"My, my, pipsqueak has her surprise too. I'm speechless."

"Anything I can do for us, Kei... did you like it?"

"No, if it weren't, I would love it."

He teases you, bringing his arm stretching onto your waist, pulling it closer to his.

"What?"

"Thank you, I never thought I'd be this happy. I'm lucky to find someone who rides and handles this side of me."

Tsukishima said, grinning onto your special appreciation. Indirectly admitting he loves the surprise you made as he hugs you.

"You're the best... I love you."

With that said, he pulls away from the warm embrace. Tsukishima's hands were on your shoulders — face nearing to yours, giving a soft and tender kiss. The lovely feeling gives you butterflies like he has always done ever since the first time. Looking back at it now, everything has been perfect.

"I love you, too... Kei. Also congrats, my middle blocker. You've done it again."

A cunning remark after a kiss, Tsukishima smirked.

"Always, and will be. No one ever tries to pry over my blocks. Well, I won't be so sorry for being so cocky. So— "

"Okay, okay, but how about we start off with this before we head out to our date, hm? Love?"

"Heh, sure. Probably after dinner, I might enjoy two desserts for tonight."

"K-kei!?"

╰┈➤ @.moonartemisia 2023 || do not copy my works

[cheeriecherrymain]

What about Viktor with a reader who seems like a total airhead/bimbo but is actually incredibly intelligent and witty?

Please pardon any mistakes, I'm typing this on my phone lol

-So you guys probably meet in one of your classes, when you're both still pretty young.

-He's initially drawn to you because of your...interesting...questions during class discussions.

-He admittedly jumps to conclusions.

-Your questions aren't necessarily stupid, but they lack common sense. Anyone in the course should have been able to answer your problems without issue, yet there you were. Asking anyways.

-He assumes you're not paying attention during the lessons...but then how do you do so well on exams? Were you cheating off someone? Paying someone to write your essays for you?

-It boggles his mind, how you could barely know what you're talking about in class, but then turn around and have the second highest marks in the class.

-It all comes to a head when the midterm results are posted outside the classroom. Viktor expects his name to be in the top spot, as it usually is, but when he looks...

- "There must be a mistake," he mutters, growing agitated. No one pays him any mind though, checking their own marks and wandering off to find their seats.

-Instead of following suit, he walks up to the Professor's desk.

- "I think there is an error in the grades that have been assigned," he says quietly, trying not to make a scene.

- "No worries, my dear boy. I assure you that I have triple checked my work - something you might want to try, in the future."

-A couple people snicker to themselves, and Viktor's impatience rises.

- "How could there possibly not be a mistake?" he hisses. "According to the marks posted, Y/N had the highest grade - that's just not possible!"

-Out of the corner of his eye, he notices you perk up at the mention of your name. Now, with you listening in, his confidence in the matter plummets.

-The professor asks him why it wouldn't be possible for you to have a good grade.

-"Because she's an idiot!" he says, much louder than intended - loud enough for most of the class to hear, yourself included.

-He doesn't miss the way that your shoulders fall slightly, nor the way your demeanor grows somber and your gaze casts downward.

-He's immediately hit with a wave of guilt, which only worsens when the professor send him to his seat and he gets a better look at you as he passes.

-You're silent in class for the following week. You don't ask your usual absurd questions, and you don't participate in group discussions - you don't say anything, actually.

-Even when you're paired up for your final projects, and find yourselves in a group, you're eerily quiet.

-It's awkward, in his opinion, but he's not going to try andbforce you to say anything. Instead he draws up a plan for what you should create, explaining it to you in extreme detail as he goes.

-You continue in silence as the semester progresses, watching Viktor work diligently while he goes over ever aspect of his creation.

-He had delegated the task of writing down test results to you, so you'd still be able to get marks for participating. Test results which had been repeating, as of late.

-"I just do not understand where I'm going wrong," he sighs one afternoon. "The barrel is straight, the nose is aerodynamic, the power source is adequate! I only have four days to figure out what's going on - we'll get a failing grade, otherwise."

-At first, you say nothing, keeping your gaze firmly locked on the paper attached to your clipboard.

-But then, all at once, fury curls into your features, and you scowl at him.

"There's too much pressure being released from the fuel tank," you say, finally. "Which you would have known, if you weren't so obsessed with making the damn thing look nice."

-"It's efficient," he tries to say, but you cut him off.

-"It's stupid to work on the aesthetics before the function! The wiring is also faulty, and it's either going to cause a fire, or screw up your design when we have our presentation."

-The two of you stare at each other for several moments, the air between you tense enough to feel.

-"How can you be so certain?" he grumbles.

-"Because despite your opinion of me, I'm far from stupid, Viktor. I've earned my grades, even if you think I didn't. God forbid someone be better than you at something."

-"You are not better than me," he argues. "You, and people like you, look down on me - you always have! You're pretentious and opinionated-"

-"The only one who is pretentious and opinionated is you!" you hiss back, poking him hard on the chest. "I looked up to you! And I can't believe I wasted so much time thinking so highly of you. You're an ass!"

-The two of you fall into silence for a couple of beats, before you continue, "and for the record, I ask stupid questions because the girl who sits beside me is mute - she writes them down, and I read them. And she's pretty damn smart, too "

-After that, you're quick to pack up your things and leave, whisking past Viktor in a flurry of frustration and hurt.

-His guilt returns to him. Had he really been so presumptuous? True, in the past, you'd never done anything to hurt him - never spoken out against him, or made any accusations.

-But unlike his earlier guilt, the feeling doesn't dissipate this time. He was wrong about you, and he knows it. He just needs to find a way to make it up to you.

[wordsarelife]

—i forgot that you existed

pairing: anthony lockwood x sibling!reader

summary: the reader had a bad day at school

warnings: none i think

notes: pretty short, soz! :(

you tossed your backpack across the room, slumping down in your usual seat on the couch of the living room.

your brother was sitting in his chair, mindlessly turning the pages of one of his magazines, completely ignoring you, until you sighed loudly.

he closed the magazine and looked at you expectingly.

“hey” you greeted.

“hi” he smiled hesitantly “how was school?”

“unbearable” you muttered frustrated “i hate going there”

“who doesn’t?” lockwood smiled and you could help but grin a bit at his words.

“you’re right” you said “school is pointless, i don’t even know why i have to go there, it’s not like i’m learning anything anyway. and it’s a building full of miserable and awful people who have nothing better to do than being mean”

“woah” lockwood raised his arms, surprised at your sudden rant and the shift in mood “where is all this coming from? you used to love going to school”

“well, i don’t anymore” you crossed your arms, falling back into the comfortable cushion of the couch.

lockwood sighed, before he got up and sat down on the couch next to you. “do you want to tell me what happened?”

“it’s nothing”

“it’s definitely not nothing” lockwood argued, shaking his head “something that happened has made you so angry that you suddenly hate going to school, doesn’t sound like you”

“yeah” you sighed “i know”

“so? care to share with your brother?” he was wearing that sympathetic smile that always got you to open up to him. he knew how to make you feel safe and heard and you always told him everything.

“i just got a bad grade today”

“oh” he nodded “which subject?”

“english” the silence was loud and you looked up to witness the surprised expression on your brothers face.

“english?” he repeated “that’s your best! your so good at it”

“i know” you breathed “that’s the reason it’s bothering me so much. even harry mace got a better grade! and i know for a fact that he stays up all night playing video games”

“i’m sorry, y/n” lockwood patted your shoulder “that sucks”

“yeah and not only that, but i also have a math exam next week and i understand nothing of what we talked about. it makes up 50% of the grade, i can’t flunk this one”

“shit” lockwood muttered and you nodded.

“indeed”

“i’m sorry school is hard, right now” lockwood said, while you nodded “but it’ll get better eventually”

“i know, it’s just a lot right now”

“yeah” he smiled “but don’t worry we’ll help you. you know, george is quite the genius when it comes to math and lucy is great in english. you just have to get back in your flow and everything will be alright”

“you’d really do that?”

“of course” he laughed “we’re your family. and please let me know if anyone is being mean or bullying you, alright?”

“thank you” you hugged your brother tightly and you could feel the relaxation set into your features.

“always” lockwood nudged your elbow “do you smell that? seems like george has cooked something for us”

you didn’t need to hear that twice, already on your way down to the kitchen. you were glad that you had a good home and people you could always count on.

“just let me know if i can do something for you, whenever” you said to lockwood, when he arrived at the kitchen door “i’m always there for you too”

he smiled at your genuine offer and nodded gratefully “i will” he assured, before he followed you inside.