#I’m at like 25 hours without sleep. but my mind just won’t shut up.

[raubtierfuetterung]

I am tired, so so tired

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 15,745

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

MAY 2027  (Warnings: angst, grief, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door), (foul) language)

I am confined to this state of nothingness. I feel like I am passing through each day without any purpose. There’s nothing to do, nothing to distract myself with. The hours take so long to pass. It’s probably because I spend them in my room.

I’ve fallen into a pattern where I only leave my room to use the bathroom and to get food, otherwise, it’s my little private habitat. I don’t even attempt to talk to Jimmy. He’s forcing himself through the exposed cracks that happen to be parts of my soul. The forced conversation does not work. I see it as a little tactic of his. I hate to break it to him, but he’s not going to get anywhere with his strategy. If it’s not going to work with anyone else, it sure won’t with my roommate. God, it still feels so weird to call him that.

Ever since the argument about the panic attack, we haven’t had any others that have escalated to that point. A few quick arguments here and there, but he’s done better with not verbally attacking me. We didn’t even have a discussion about that fight. There were no apologies or anything. It was kinda shoved aside and forgotten about. Well, I wouldn’t say forgotten about. More like something that didn’t want to be revisited. After that, we’ve still talked to each other, but it’s more short-term, if anything. I think we’re both avoiding the elephant in the room. The meals are shortened, quick pleasantries are said half-heartedly, little to no quality time is spent together in the same place. I don’t mean to shut him out. I really don’t. I’ve always craved my own space, and he’s starting to realize that now. It doesn’t change the fact about previous encounters, but he’s being cautious. It’s as if he’s walking on eggshells. Now again, I don’t want him to feel like he has to do that. He’s probably afraid of saying the wrong thing, which he’s actually never admitted before. Hey, there’s a first time for everything. He’s not getting an out.

I’m watching how I talk to him, too. I have to remind myself that he is still hurt and upset by everything. It just might take him a little while longer to fully express it. The thought of him exploding at any minute never leaves my mind. I’m not prepared. So in order to avoid it in the near future, guess I’m walking on eggshells too.

The room grows dark as the evening sky makes its way to settle in. I’m watching the HGTV channel. It’s been my hyperfixation for most of the month. The shows are calming and have great personality among the hosts and guests. There’s no mystery, no uncertainty. It’s there to boost your spirits and keep you engaged. It sure has kept me focused. It has definitely not boosted my spirits, that’s for sure.

Out of the corner of my eye, my phone lights up next to me on the duvet. It’s a text message, and who else would it be from than the man that’s about 10ish walking feet from me right next door? I quickly gaze at it. Sleep well, it reads.

I unlock my phone and tap my fingers on the screen. you too, I answer, hitting send. I lock my phone and turn it camera side up. A new alternative the both of us have silently came up with is engaging more in text than verbal conversation. It gives us the choice of actually wanting to respond without being forced when we’re stuck in front of each other. It’s not like we go all day without talking, but you can tell there’s some sort of weakened part in us being able to hold a dialogue. Then again, it’s a touchy subject, and I’d rather not talk about it. One of us will end up getting hurt. Both of us are used to it by now. At least we’re making the minimal amount of effort to maintain contact. It’d be nearly impossible to ghost him and vice versa. It would’ve poured out in an argument at some point or another.

I end up watching TV for another hour before shutting off the lights and getting comfortable to go to bed. The only problem is that I’m wide awake. My eyes are completely alert and show no signs of rapidly closing. It’s probably because my brain is racing. It’s racing with the thought that tomorrow is going to be a very tough day.

Tomorrow was supposed to be Ryan and I’s second year anniversary. I know my last year self was so excited about getting past 1 year. When it comes to relationships, whether you’re still with the person or have ended it, the time you were together matters. Even if they were the biggest asshole to walk this planet. You wouldn’t be able to consider it time really wasted. At one point, you meant something to them and were prioritized. The unsatisfying part is never being fully aware of when it started to spin sideways. Where it started to slip away from which both of you would not be able to fully recover.

The thought of never being able to find out if the two of us were going to stand the test of time is one of a million thoughts that is going to forever haunt me. Then, I’m reminded of Jimmy’s comment saying that it was a blessing in disguise. Even though it didn’t come off as sincere, he really wasn’t wrong. Who knows what the universe had in store? Who knows if we were really built for a future? Who knows what his true, bitterly raw feelings about me were? If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I never regretted the time we had together. It might have been cut short, but it was evident that we were always going to share that special bond that no one else would ever be able to understand. It’s somewhat comforting.

What’s not comforting, however, is the fear of having to replicate another close bond with another man. It’s not going to be the same, not that I want it to be, anyway, but to open up my heart and soul again will be even more daunting than I might realize.

Okay, that’s enough thinking for tonight. I hit my head on the pillow and shut my eyes, hoping that the task of faking to be asleep will eventually pay off. I can’t be kept up all night. Not by him, anyway.

I’m awoken again, this time not by noise, but by what feels like bright lights. I squint my eyes open and look to the carpet floor. I don’t see any outside light pouring in. My curiosity decided to get the best of me and I find myself dragging out of bed to open up the curtains. 

Well, now I know the source of the “bright lights.” It’s cloudy.

So much for a good day. Even the sky knows it’s not time to celebrate.

“Well, that’s just great,” I say aloud. I discard my unmade bed and head straight for the door, taking a quick peak to see if Jimmy’s awake. By the looks of his closed door, I can tell that he’s not. It’s either that or he’s doing his morning social media scroll. I wouldn’t blame him because I do it too.

I use the bathroom and wash my face, spritz on the perfume, roll on the deodorant, all that jazz. I tiptoe into the kitchen and do everything I can to be quiet while making breakfast. I’ve always been known to act like a mouse when it comes to wandering around places. I don’t draw too much attention to myself and I’ve got tiny feet, so it doesn’t really count for much noise. Jimmy’s kinda the same, I’d say. I mean, he can’t help his tall stature, so he can be a little loud when moving around, but he does his best to maintain my mouse-like quietness. Although, there is one time where I recall sleeping within the last couple weeks, and since I’m a light sleeper, I heard footsteps approach my door and it creaked open, shutting several seconds later. This is under the assumption that he was either watching me sleep, which is really creepy, or he wanted to see if I was awake and wanted to have a conversation. Should I even give him credit for trying?

I settle for scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with a side of store-packaged fruit, specifically the assorted containers with cantaloupe, watermelon, pineapple, honeydew. That’s the good shit. I take the fruit out of the fridge and keep it out on the counter while looking through the newly organized cabinets for a decent sized pan to cook the eggs in. I decide to double my workload and make breakfast for him too. I hope he appreciates the sentiment, even if it’s through expressions rather than words.

I crack the first 2 eggs into the pan and prepare the toast by dropping the slices of bread into the toaster. It’s only 9:10. A little earlier than I get up, but I guess both my brain and body had different plans today. While waiting for the food to get caught up to speed, I decide which fruit to pick out. The package isn’t even open yet, so I have first-hand advantage. I pick one of everything, arranging it on the paper plate and pushing it off to the side. My attention returns to both the eggs and toast.

It’s too quiet in here. I don’t hear any shuffling or evident signs that he’s gotten up yet. That’s okay. I’ll just take the time to think, collect my thoughts. Maybe by the end of it, I’ll have my shit together. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows I won’t.

I continue folding the eggs around on every corner, every crevice, every edge there possibly is until I’ve gotten them all yellow and scrambled before I remove them from the pan with the spatula and place them onto the crisp, golden brown toast. I reach into the cabinet above the pots and pans, moving my hand around blindly to grab the salt and pepper. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t hard because they were right in front of me. I sprinkle a small amount onto each slice before I locate them to their own spot on the counter. I reach bag into the egg carton and grab 2 more and crack them above the pan, watching them fall out of their shells and sizzling underneath the flame. At least that one can be retained. Mine’s upgraded into a wildfire.

Conversation has continued to be limited with the team. There hasn’t been much to really discuss, other than the fact that it’s technically summer vacation and we’re free to do whatever we want without the constant routine of showing up to the rink and practicing almost everyday. With that temporary absence of a consistent schedule, it’s been difficult figuring out how to spend my free time. Then again, I’m having several solo parties a day in my room. It really cannot get that much better, right?

I’m so adjusted to the drastic decrease in communication that I don’t even realize another voice infiltrating the room. “Morning.” It’s said in a sleepy voice, just like the one in Minnesota. I hear the scrape of a chair on the floor.

I turn around and meet his gaze. He was already looking with my back turned to him, wasn’t he? “Hi.”

“This for me?” He points to the full plate I pushed away earlier.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m making my own now.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Killing two birds with one stone.”

I immediately regret using that phrase, as it brings me back to the night of that argument. I remember him saying he wished I would’ve died with Ryan, hence, the two birds being us and the stone being that drunk driver and his stupid fucking truck. Sometimes, I wonder if he really wanted it to end up that way.

Returning to the eggs, they look perfect. I shut off the stove and take the toast out of the toaster, unplugging it right after. I arrange the toast on my plate and gently put down my eggs on top, sprinkling the salt and pepper for a perfect finish. I decide to take a fork out from the drawer and just eat the fruit straight out of the container. I turn back around to face him, my forearms leaning down on the counter. “Got anything planned today?” I say, attempting to sound as honest as possible.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Not really,” he responds. He points to the plate with his fork, a diced piece of watermelon taking up its space. “This is really good, by the way.”

“I’m a good cook.”

“Hell, you’re better than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” I reply sarcastically.

“Alright, stop that.” He flashes me his little smile.

I can’t help but flash one back at him.

“What about you?” Now it’s his turn to pry into my personal mental journal of thoughts.

“Nope. Got nothing better to do than just sit here.”

“That’s fair.”

I give him a little nod.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry about today.” He flashes me those sparkly puppy-dog eyes, that even I, too, can really see they are filled with sadness.

I look down at my plate and then look back up, glancing everywhere around the room that isn’t directly into his eyes. “It’s fine,” I mutter.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today, to uh, like, commemorate it or anything?” He’s sincere when he says that, too.

I shake my head. “No. It’s not the same without him here.”

“For what it’s worth, if anything, I thought you two were a great match for each other.”

I finally gain the courage to look at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues. “You both really cared about what was best for one another. It was evident there was some other level you two had unlocked that no one else could’ve cracked. I don’t want this to come off as creepy or anything, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than when he was in the room. I know you didn’t have to be everywhere with him, and you were fine with that, but he just generated a different aura, you know? I’ve never seen you not smile when he was there. It made me happy to know he was treating you well.”

A rare sighting of sweetness?

“He did,” I admit. “There were rarely any arguments, and even if there were, it’d be over stupid things, like where to go get ice cream after a day on the beach or what music to play when driving. He was never too serious. I mean, he obviously was about his career, that’s a given. Don’t get me wrong, he was serious about us too, but I never had to question if he truly enjoyed it. If he could make me laugh at least three separate times during each time we saw each other, then maybe it was something worth my time.”

“Never made you cry?”

I stare him down. “Not until recently. He never made me go to bed wondering if I wasn’t an important part of his life.”

“Sounds like he was the perfect guy for you.”

I scoff. “Well, he wasn’t perfect, by any means. He obviously had flaws, just like you and I do. However, he did put in the effort. That’s what mattered.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s always going to matter.”

Jimmy clears his throat and gets up from his chair, retreating to the fridge and grabbing the jug of orange juice to place on the counter. He takes a cup out of the cabinet and pours himself some to go along with his breakfast. He looks in my direction, jug in hand. “Want some?”

“No thanks. Orange juice is dehydrating.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean? No, it’s not.”

“Uh, yes it is,” I sarcastically argue. “I don’t know how anyone drinks it God-willingly.”

“You’re so weird,” he replies back.

“Damn straight.” I give him a devious smile.

Now it’s his turn to scoff and shake his head. “You want anything to drink?”

“I’m good.”

He puts the orange juice back in the fridge and shuts the door, walking back to where he was sitting. He takes his piece of watermelon and pops it into his mouth.

“You excited for Wednesday?”

He finishes swallowing and looks at me. “I guess so, yeah.”

“You don’t wanna turn another year younger, do you?”

I get him to crack a smile, and with teeth. Damn, I’m good. “Not according to you, no.”

“But, like, do you have an idea of what you wanna do? We can’t just do nothing. Maybe, we can do a team outing or something.”

“Not everybody’s here,” Jimmy corrects me. “Lots of the guys went back home for the summer, remember?”

Oh crap, I forgot about that.

I exhale a frustrated sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll go buy a tiny cake from the store and stick 34 mini candles in it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a fire hazard.”

I wave my hand away in his face. “I’ll keep it under control.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. But seriously, we don’t have to do anything crazy. We can run to Dunkin to get breakfast and then maybe come back here and just lounge. We could walk around the city if it’s nice out. Just wanna keep it lowkey, okay?”

I nod. “Got it. Your parents aren’t gonna be in town?”

He shakes his head. “Not this year. It’s not a big deal. You didn’t celebrate your birthday with yours, either.”

“Well, yeah, but I did it with another family instead.”

He nods in agreement. “Have your parents checked in on you at all?”

“Yeah. I call my mom once a week. I’m tired of her constantly texting me, asking if I’m okay. She should know by now that I’m not. My dad hasn’t thought to formulate a sentence, but that’s how he is.”

“When did you last call her?”

I finish the last bite of my toast before moving to my fruit. “Yesterday. It was only like 15 minutes. It’s the same old shit. There’s not much to talk about.”

“Does she seem worried?”

“She’s always gonna worry about me, even if I’m in the happiest mood ever,” I retort. “She was a nonstop mess when I moved here and had to live on my own, but she feels slightly better that I’ve moved in with someone.”

“Has she said anything about me?” Jimmy wonders.

I pretend to think. “She told me to thank you for being there when she couldn’t.”

“Well, tell her that it’s my utmost duty.”

“Okay, now you’re just being a little shit,” I laugh, closing the fruit container and putting it back in the fridge, then throwing my plate in the trash can. “You done? I can take it for you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Oh, it’s my utmost duty to serve you, James.”

“Okay, enough of that,” he laughs. “What do you wanna do?”

I look around the apartment. “Actually, I think I’m gonna get organized. Make the bed, put away laundry, maybe start shifting some stuff into the other closet so that it doesn’t come crashing down on me the next time I open it.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Today’s probably not gonna be a good day to go out, anyway.” He gestures to the windows behind the TV.

It’s started drizzling. That’s great! Perfect weather for a somber day!

“Well, thank goodness for our lives being boring and having no plans!” I reply. “And with that, I’m going to go distract myself with plans.”

“Let me know if you want any help.” 

Oh, like he’s ever done that since that night? He cannot be serious.

“I will,” I respond. It’s the only thing I can say that won’t start something. I make my way to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I start off with making my bed, propping up all the pillows so they look fresh and totally not worn out. I brought my pillows to sleep on and kept Jimmy’s boring ass white shams. Same thing with the duvet. To make the room a little more interesting, I placed a couple throw blankets at the end to add in some color to make up for the lack thereof. The next task was perhaps the most daunting of them all as an adult: laundry. The basket was heavy because I let it build up, and Jimmy always wanted to take my basket down when our laundry had to be done so he could separate our clothes. He has not yet made the mistake of throwing in one of his own articles into my basket yet. I’m still waiting for the day.

After the longest 25 minutes of flipping shirts inside out, finding unoccupied hangers, hooking them on the closet rail, folding all of my pants and putting them in the drawer, repeating the process with my bras and underwear, which now, it got me thinking. I wonder if he ever peaked at them longer than he should’ve when I wasn’t around. Oh, who am I kidding? He most definitely did not. He’s too innocent for that. Although, he was guilty of calling me a burden, so I wonder if he’s gonna reverse his charges. Wait, what was I alluding to? Oh, yeah. My laundry’s done.

I move all of my hockey gear, equipment, all of its corresponding bullshit to the empty closet. It’s not one that I want to open in the near future. I forgot how heavy my duffle bag was, so I literally had to shuffle it across the carpet because I really don’t want to throw out a shoulder right now. Not that it would matter because we’re not playing, but it would make my life just the tiniest bit easier. I go back for the skates, stick, and gloves. Only they’re not mine. They’re his.

The other option was that they get discarded in some deep, dark closet that no one would ever open again, the lock being kept in place. I drove up to the practice rink one day to get them. Of course, I chose not to tell Jimmy where I was going, so when I got back an hour and a half later, when I opened the door, I found him sitting on the couch and immediately turning around to give me one of the most disapproving looks. We quickly bickered about how I need to let him know where I’m going, yet I’m a grown adult just like him and that he doesn’t need to become a helicopter “parent” and know all of my whereabouts. The good news is that he hasn’t had to worry since. I have not stepped foot out that door probably since close to the end of April. The closest I count to escaping is standing out on the balcony for a little while until I start to feel claustrophobic, and then I make my way back inside. I finally got an apartment complex parking sticker, so I did end up bringing my car over, but it’s never left its parking spot since the day I came back from Greenburgh. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know who to go see.

Exhaustion begins to set in after moving everything around and rearranging my space. I don’t even make a run for lying down on my bed and instead settle sitting next to the deep, dark closet on the carpet. It’s not even 12 yet and this day is already going by too slow. I need it to be over. The goal is always getting to the next day without feeling the need to perish. Has it gotten easier? No. Am I starting to come to the conclusion that this accident was probably the one thing the universe did to me on purpose? Yes.

I hear a faint knock. At first, I think it’s at the bedroom door, but I hear footsteps make their way from the room next door all the way across the apartment. Someone’s here. Who is it? What do they want?

There’s a distant sound of voices. Are they conspiring on something? Does someone know I’m here? Are they coming to kick me out? Are we being invaded? Are they here to tell me that someone else is dead?

Now is the time when the footsteps approach the bedroom door. I hear a light knock. If it’s actually him on the other side, kudos to finally taking the hint at knocking. Every time that I’m in here, he never feels the need to. I could be standing naked in the middle of the room and he wouldn’t be able to burn that image out of his head. That would be the day where his embarrassment would’ve created a permanent fixture of remembering the importance of knocking on a door. It’s courteous. It’s considerate. It’s smart.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“It’s me.” Ah, yes, Mr. Boston boy!

“Come in.”

The door opens and he emerges onto the carpet, keeping his hand on the knob. He notices me sitting on the floor. “You, uh, you okay?” 

I cock my head at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re sitting on the floor.”

“Because I couldn’t find the energy to flop down on my bed after moving everything around.”

“I see.” He looks skeptical.

“Still find me weird?”

“Yeah, definitely. Hey, listen. Laf’s here. He says he’s got something to give you.”

“Laf?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I don’t know. You gotta go see it for yourself.”

What is this? What could he, out of all people, have to give me?

I gather myself off the floor and drag my feet on the carpet, following Jimmy out into the hallway. He was right. Gosh, I haven’t seen him since the funeral. It feels like years.

I walk past Jimmy to approach him first. He’s standing by the far side of the island. “Hey.” It comes out as a combination of curiosity and surprise.

“Hey, Abb.” 

“How, uh, how are you?”

Alexis looks around the apartment before back at me. “Good. I’m, uh, I’m flying back to Quebec in a few hours, so I’m not gonna be back in the states for a little while. I was cleaning out Ryan’s apartment for the new tenants and I came across this.”

I don’t even pay attention to what he’s holding. I ask the more important question first. “Wait, what do you mean you were cleaning out his apartment? They just decided to end his lease?”

He coughs. “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s not there. Landlord needs to clear out space.”

Yeah, I’m not buying it.

“Since I had his spare key, I spent a few days cleaning out what I could. I was looking through his room, and it took me forever, but I found something stored away in the back of his dresser.”

It’s when I look down at his hands and notice he’s holding a light blue bag. It’s got white tissue paper sticking out and a lime green envelope.

It’s my birthday present.

The one he forgot because he was in a rush.

The one he promised he would give to me after practice the next day.

And he broke that one, too.

I stare at it, wondering if I should even accept it. It’s two months overdue. I meet Alexis’ eyes. “You didn’t think to give this to me sooner?” My voice is riled with hesitation.

“There was never a right time. The funeral, the wake. Everything was happening so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I was going to bother. I had it sitting in my room for the longest time before I remembered that I was leaving, and it’s not like anyone else would’ve been able to get it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Did you peak?”

“No. It’s wrapped up pretty good. Your guess is as good as mine.”

I outstretch my arm to release the gift bag from his grip. I continue looking at it, as if there’s an unwanted surprise that’s going to jump out and scare me.

“You don’t have to open it now,” he says. “It’s whatever you want.”

I turn to look at Jimmy. He’s sitting against the back of the sofa. “Yeah, Abb, you don’t have to do it now. It’s probably something that would mean more if it were just you that opened it.”

I sigh, thinking over my options. I’ve done everything on my own for this long. This should be shared with someone else. It was the original intention anyway.

“No, I’ll open it now.” I pull out a chair from the island and sit down, deciding if I should focus on the card first or the actual gift at hand. I settle on the card. The writing will probably throw me in for a quick waterworks show. Shocker.

If you ever looked at Ryan first glance, you would assume that his physical appearance would indicate that he was very tough and manly. You could indicate based on his tone of voice that he was always so stoic and serious; never had time to joke around, didn’t seem like the type of person to let themselves have fun. Oh, you would’ve been so wrong.

I wouldn’t say that he was the absolute best at giving gifts, but I told him to never go over the top, whether it be for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, our one and only anniversary. Did he ever listen to me, though? No. I’m about to be proven that.

I tap my fingers on the envelope, flipping it upside down and opening it. I wiggle the card out and turn to look at the front. It’s got an animated illustration of two cats. One’s playing with a ball of yarn and the other’s watching from afar on the couch. I don’t realize the destroyed birthday cake in the bottom corner. The cat on the couch has a speech bubble above its head, saying “The sweetest of lives are lived with you.” 

Alright, here it goes.

I open the card to read what’s in the middle. “Here’s to the rest of them. Happy Birthday.”

I drop it on the counter, head already in my hands. I let out a tiny squeak. This really is hitting a lot harder than I thought it would.

But it’s not over yet.

He filled up the whole card. Both sides.

If I’m being honest, Ryan would sometimes be an annoying little shit because he would choose not to communicate his feelings verbally, so that’s when he resorts to writing it out, whether through a card or a quick text or even on a Post-It note. He never ignored me deliberately. I’d give him some time for him to sort them all out, and then when he was ready, he would come find me and we would talk about what was bothering him. He would always start off with “It’s not because of you.” And he really meant it.

I direct my eyes to the top of the card and begin reading.

Dear Abby,

Happy 24th! It feels as if I’ve known you in a past life, and it’s given me the privilege of replicating in the real one. I’m gonna be sappy real quick. Where do I start? Oh, yeah, thank you for literally being the BEST girlfriend, the BEST person, the BEST human that I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know. I’m aware that I don’t tell you as often as I should, and that’s my fault, but you are everything to me. I’m fortunate to make you the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and you’re fortunate to make me the luckiest and most blessed man. I appreciate your mind and your heart; the way you care for everybody and only want what’s best for them, the way you’re never afraid to say what you want/need, the way you’ve become more comfortable as a player and a person, dealing with the consistent pressure to do well. You’ve handled it with such grace that I’m almost jealous, only because I wish I could do that. You are the greatest gift I could’ve ever received, so the one that I got you might finish in second place. Here I am to say that if not for you, I don’t know where I’d be. I guess the extra time of just remaining teammates and friends really paid off. I’m excited to celebrate with you and everyone else, and I can’t wait. You’re perfect. Just as you are. And to me, you always are. Excited for the next one. There is truly no one better, and there never will be. At least, not for me.

Love always,

Ry

I shove the card to the far edge of the countertop, distracting myself by ravaging through the gift bag like a hyper kid rushing through opening their presents on Christmas to see if they got the toys they asked Santa for. There’s two things. One is placed in a skinny, rectangular box, and the other is standing up, wrapped in blue tissue paper. It seems like it could be fragile, so I place it down gently on the counter without having it hang too close to the edge.

It almost seems like I’m opening the gifts by myself until I hear a shuffling noise in the background. It causes me to turn around in my chair. Laffy’s moved over to sit with Jimmy on the back of the couch. I furrow my eyebrows at them. “Why don’t you guys come over here and we can open it together?”

“We don’t wanna impose,” Alexis pipes up. “It’s not our business to know what he got you.”

“You’re not,” I say. “C’mon. Please?”

Both of them stand up and make their way to the kitchen area, still maintaining their space by hovering near the pantry. Good God, what are they so afraid of? What’s the worst they’ll have to do? Comfort me? Watch me cry? Grow up.

I start off with the box. I lift up the cover and my eyes are immediately drawn to the two presents inside that I don’t even know what to pick up first.

How about with tickets to Country Fest in Detroit Lakes in August?

He told me this was one of the reasons he always looked forward to summer. He went every year with friends and always had the best time. I kept mentioning that I would gladly go with him, even though I don’t religiously listen to country music like he did. Every time he’d drive us anywhere, it would always be on. He stuck to his true Midwestern roots, and never once let them go.

Is there even a point of using them now? He spent a good amount of money. I don’t want it going to waste. Maybe I’ll sell them or something. Why would I go when it’s not going to be intended quality time?

I reach to the second gift. I speculate on how to open it; that’s even if there’s a right way. I move the tissue paper, pushing it down until all of it hits the counter. The good news is that it’s not glass. Essentially, it’s two things in one. The first thing, giving way to its tall stature, was a rectangular pillow. It was red and white. Embroidered in large font and large letters, it read Abby & Ryan, and on the bottom, it read 05/22/2025. It had tiny red hearts protruding from each side. It looked stitched to perfection, handled with so much care. 

I stare at it for a couple seconds before snapping myself out of my trance and looking to find the next part. I scoff. As if it couldn’t get any worse than a personalized pillow.

It’s a personalized photo blanket.

With what looks to be several 4x6 and 5x7 photos all meshed into each other.

On the top, it reads A different type of warmth that will never die.

On the back, this time in smaller font, it reads Happy birthday. You’ve warmed my heart, and now it’s time for me to return the favor. -R

Just when I think it’s over, it’s not.

A container of something spills out from the middle of the blanket and onto the floor. I reach down from my chair to pick up. I see a tag attached to what looks like to be a bottle. I turn it over.

It’s his favorite cologne.

I look at the tag.

In case for when you start to miss me.

My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it so hard to prevent myself from a meltdown in front of one more person. I look over at the two men still lingering by the pantry. They’re looking along as well.

“Those are really nice, Abb,” Jimmy says. “Guess he meant it when he said you should’ve opened it in front of him.”

“Are you glad to have gotten them?” Alexis asks. “He really knew you like the back of your hand.”

I turn in my chair and face the both of them, one eye focusing on each. “Yeah, he did,” I mutter. 

I stand up and grab the gifts, stopping myself in my tracks before heading to my room. I look at Alexis and attempt to sound as grateful as I can. “Thanks for stopping by,” I say. “I’ll see you around. Be safe.”

He folds his mouth into a grimace and nods his head. “Of course,” he responds quietly. He reaches past me to retrieve the card off the counter. “You almost forgot this.”

I take it from his hand. “Thanks.” I walk past him and into my room, shutting the door. I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I quickly walk over to the deep, dark closet before I can change my mind, and lackadaisically throw the pillow and blanket on top of his equipment, shutting the door immediately. As for the card, cologne, and concert tickets, I walk in a different direction, this time to my nightstand drawer, and toss them in, closing it loudly. Sliding down the side of my bed, I find myself present on the carpet again, staring out at the balcony. It’s stopped raining, but everything is wet. Dreary. Diminished.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” I whisper under my breath. “You stupid fucking idiot. Can’t use this shit now. Couldn’t have held on for one more day, right? Took the easy way out, like Jim said? Forget how I feel. No one could understand. I mean, I’m sure you could. But you’re not here, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”

I hear mutters of conversation from the kitchen before I hear the door close. An exasperated sigh escapes Jimmy’s mouth. “Goddamn it,” I hear him say.

Well, at least we’ve finally agreed on something.

The unfortunate yet familiar footsteps creak outside my door. Another knock.

“What?”

“Do you want me to come in?” He sounds sad.

“Leave me alone.”

I don’t hear anything.

I try again. “You just gonna fuckin creep out there?”

“I was just gonna ask if you needed anything.”

“I need you to go the fuck away.”

“I-”

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO!”

The door opens.

Alright, time to kill him.

I hear his footsteps on the carpet. “Where are you?” his voice calls from behind me.

“Dead.”

He follows the trail of my voice and finds me sitting next to the nightstand and up against the bed. “Nice try.”

I shrug. “Not like it’d be hard.”

“Abb-”

“I told you to go away and you still don’t listen.”

“Because you’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, I think you are.”

“I literally just said I’m not.”

He kneels down on the carpet, sitting on his right leg. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Now, see. That’s a lie.”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know?”

“I know that you’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.” He sounds legitimately serious.

“Yeah, I am. I think I can manage.”

“Have you, though?”

The tips of my ears start to burn.

“Not in the way you want me to.”

Got him there once again.

“I think you should talk to someone.”

What an absolute abomination.

I heavily focus on the balcony, shifting my focus to the trees in the distance past the buildings. “I absolutely do not. I already talk to you.”

“Yeah, barely.”

Okay, it was in due time he returned the hypocrisy back to me.

“It’s like you don’t wanna talk about it. You can’t let it eat you up for so long. Everything’s going to come out one way or another.” Wow, how inspiring for a man who went to a fucking Ivy League, Daddy’s money funded institution. The advice can seriously not get any better.

“Is it finished eating you up, or has it never bit you to begin with?”

Jimmy sighs. “It lingers around from time to time.”

“Then you can’t tell me to spill it all out. I don’t have anything to say.”

“So all of your underlying feelings are gone for good?”

Pause.

“You’re brave enough to leave out the pillow and blanket on your bed?”

Another pause.

He motions to stand up. “That’s exactly what I thought. Seriously, though, you should talk to somebody. It doesn’t have to be me, but I think it’d feel a little less heavy if you expressed how you feel. You know?”

I look up at him, my eyes seething with rage that is invisible to him. “No, I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe you should talk to someone to help with your nosiness.”

He laughs.

“I’m not kidding, Jim. You need to give me space. Still haven’t learned that, either. Who ever knew you were so stubborn?”

“I give you space. You’re always locked away in here. It’s like there’s nowhere better you’d wanna be.”

Actually, there is one alternative.

He continues. “You do know you are allowed to leave here, right? You can go out and drive around the city for a little bit. You can go to the park and feed the ducks. Hell, we could maybe go out and get dinner once in awhile. Have you ever thought about the idea that we haven’t spent any time together?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s all we do.”

He shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No, Abby, I mean really spend time together. I’m talking about actually walking around Manhattan and spending the afternoon acting like tourists or going for a quick run around the block. I feel that I’m somewhat confined here too because you refuse to leave.”

I blink at him, then look away.

“Just think on it, okay? Remaining trapped in here isn’t going to make anything easier. I think it’d be good for us to go out and get some air. Obviously, not today, but sometime in the near future.”

“You have no idea what’s good for me.”

He sighs frustratedly. “You’re right. I don’t. But I think a step in this direction might have us both uncover what actually is.”

I don’t say anything.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

I lift up my hands and slap them against my knees. “Fine.”

“Okay. And with that, I will now leave you alone.”

Finally.

He walks across the carpet again and grabs hold of the door, shutting it quietly behind him. The footsteps disappear.

I have to admit, he’s not wrong. I have been making the decision to stay in the apartment. It’s not helping me, but it’s what I’ve adjusted to. Why change the routine when it’s working? No one else needs to agree. No one has to support it. No one has to approve. I’m choosing how I deal with it. And it’s enough.

The rest of the day is spent in my own head. I don’t even attempt to start another conversation with him. All he’s gonna do is talk about what he thinks I need to change. I don’t wanna say that he’s trying to force it on me, but I just feel that constant pressure to be over it by now. Every single day has not been easy since. The saying “Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud” is exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s anything but a rainbow. More of a category 5 hurricane trying to wash everything away and take me with him.

It’s dark out now, the stars illuminating the sky. The post-rain air has made its way in. I’ve opened the balcony doors to cool down my room. The distant sound of traffic makes me temporarily miss being stuck in it. The bright LED lights on the store signs makes me tempted to go down and walk through the doors of one. The sturdiness of the black railing makes me want to sit on the edge and drop from it.

But I won’t. That’s too easy.

In fact, I know an easier way.

The closet has made its return. I open the door and grab the pillow and blanket, tossing them to the floor behind me. Stepping over them, I walk in the opposite direction to the nightstand where I placed the card, cologne, and concert tickets. I take all three and place the tickets inside the card. As for the cologne, I wrap it up in the blanket. I pick everything up off the floor and make my way out to the balcony. I stand there for a few moments, clutching it all tightly against my chest. I can’t bear to hold onto it. My arms are getting tired. Everything about me is just tired. It never seems to end. Two months later and he’s still finding a way to haunt me, this time through gifts that I cannot utilize. You know what? Maybe it was a good thing I had to wait so long to get them. They sure weren’t going to help me anyway.

I drop everything over the balcony, watching it fall to the concrete. Then, I shut the doors and close the curtains. I do the same thing with the closet and crawl my way into the bed, turning off the lamp. If I am not allowed to enjoy these things to my fullest potential, then no one else will be allowed to. Fuck him.

As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but think about a random stranger finding them on the sidewalk and just stealing it for themselves. All of that is personalized. It was just for me. Doesn’t matter. It can make someone else happy now. There’s no coming back from that, and I don’t think that I’m ever going to.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chirpy birds serve as my alarm as I keep my head buried in my pillow. “God, leave me alone,” I mumble.

The sun has returned, as I see it peaking on the carpet. There’s only so much light that can protrude through before it becomes an eyesore. Aggravated weekend traffic has resumed, given the nonstop honking. It helps to know that other people must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, too. Dragging myself out from under the covers, I sit on the side of the bed and vigorously rub my eyes. It’s clear the eyebags are still there. I’ve thought it would’ve become a permanent part of my physical appearance by now. Strands of hair fall next to my eyes, temporarily interfering with my ability to see. I push it out of the way and grip the bed, my feet landing on the carpet first before I stand myself up. Ignoring the closed curtains, I open one of the balcony doors and overlook the city before looking down at the spot where all of the gifts landed.

They’re gone.

Well, that’s a relief, I think to myself. The worst case scenario would have it still be lying there. At least it held enough value for someone to take it. Whoever that person was, they definitely hit the jackpot. Enjoy.

I walk back into my room and shut the door, keeping the curtains where they are. Making my way toward the actual door, I handle the knob before emerging out into the kitchen. There’s something on the counter. It looks big. It’s definitely taking up space. However, it doesn’t look edible, so it’s not breakfast. I walk a little further to get a better look.

First, I’m met with the judgmental eyes of the man of the year. His hands are planted on the counter. I can see his veins. I’ll go under the assumption that he’s building some type of tension there.

And then I’m met with the pillow. And the blanket. And the card. And the cologne. And the concert tickets.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” I can tell he’s so over it. You’re not the only one.

“No, I really don’t.” I walk over to the living room area, looking out the window so that I don’t have to face him. “How did you even find it?”

“I’m not an idiot, Abby. I was taking out the trash and I saw everything lying there. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking to get rid of it.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I don’t need it.”

“Hey, you know how much he must’ve spent on all of that to give it to you?”

“Yeah, well, he never did, did he?”

Another deafening silence.

“You could at least store it so that it’s not just lying away.”

“Oh, yeah, for it to only collect dust? What a real smart idea.”

“It’s better than having it spread out on the concrete in Manhattan.”

“I was doing myself a favor.”

“Which was what?”

“Getting rid of him.” I move to the other window on the other side of the TV, still avoiding any type of contact.

“I don’t think that’s the right way to do that.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think.” I raise my voice in the slightest octave. “Why can’t you just let me do things the way I want to? You keep trying to save something that’s already gone. There’s no need to salvage it.”

“You can’t replace these things.”

“It’s not a matter of replacing. It’s a matter of letting go. Something you’ve already done.”

“And something you’re not even remotely close to doing, so why start now?”

Ouch.

“Abb, you need to get help.”

Here we go again.

“I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you do. If you were thinking clearly, you wouldn’t have even thought of throwing away those memories.”

“They’re not memories, they’re pity prizes.”

“Fine, call them whatever you want. In the meantime, I’m gonna call someone who can work this out with you.”

“No.”

“You have not left this place since the day we got back from the funeral. Go out, get some air, and I’m not talking about just standing on the balcony. I mean really go out and take some time for yourself.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna join me?” I reply sarcastically. “That’s a first.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Those words cause me to turn and look at him. “Now you’re worried about me? A month ago, you wished that I was dead, but all of a sudden, you care? Your empathy’s been restored? Your heart’s finally started beating again?”

“Your’s hasn’t.”

Ouch again.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” Jimmy says. “We need to figure something out.”

We? I thought this time, it’d be me. You know, since it’s been us against each other.

“Not now.”

“Okay, fine, not now, but soon. I don’t wanna go out one day and come back here and see you passed out on the floor.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Jim, I promise that you don’t.”

He lifts his hands from the counter, moving them to his hips. “How do I not know that you throwing that stuff off the balcony was alluding to someone else doing the exact same thing?”

“Because it’s not.”

He rolls his eyes. “I give up with you. Really, I do.”

I just stare back at him.

He walks over to the direction of where I’m standing by the window, positioned toward the door as if he’d leave. “I am letting you know right now that if you ever, ever, ever try to pull something like that on me, and I’m the one that finds you, and they’re not able to get you back, I will never forgive myself. You understand? I know that I seem like a helicopter whirring over you, but seriously, it’s in my best interest. I know that you don’t trust me right now, and that’s fine. I’m just gonna put it out there and say that doing what you might want to do as a last resort and getting away with it, if you fail, it’s going to take a long time to earn my trust back. I’ve always been here for you, and it’s only fair you do the same. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Directing himself back to the kitchen, Jimmy reaches into the pantry and pulls out a brown paper bag. He got bagels again.

“Pick the one you want and I’ll throw it in the toaster,” he instructs.

With slight hesitancy, I make my way to the island, peering through the bag. It smells so good, so fresh. I think Sunday bagel breakfasts should be a little tradition that we start. I’ll ask him at a better time. Choosing the sesame seed bagel, I give it to Jimmy, who cuts it down the middle and pops it in the toaster. He does the same to his bagel. This time, he chose an everything one. I’m surprised he deterred from the plain. You’d think it’d be impossible for him to give up that consistent routine of picking it, but I won’t call him out. I always thought plain bagels were boring, and the man that loves them is surely not.

“Jim?”

He turns around, not even looking at me. He’s handing me a plate. “Yeah?”

“Are you really that worried about me?”

A disgruntled sigh leaves his mouth. “Abby, I literally did not sleep that night because even I couldn’t figure out what was really going on. Frequently, I can’t sleep because I think about how you might not wake up after I find out you’ve done something to yourself. I don’t like the change in mood. I’m not blaming you by any means, but I’ve noticed that it’s become a little more drastic and I just wish that I could have a bigger role in stopping its growth.”

“Then just watch me sleep from now on,” I reply. “You’ve done it before.”

He scoffs. “C’mon, I’ve never done that.”

“I once heard my door open while I was sleeping and then shut like 20 seconds later. It would’ve been impossible if someone wasn’t there to twist the knob.”

Another sigh. “Okay, fine, it was me.”

I smile. “No shit, Sherlock. Do you want me to move in your room, share a bed? I call left side.”

He laughs. “I’m good. Plus, it would be your turn of invading my privacy.”

I bat my eyes at him. “Yeah, but I’d only be trying to help you, right?”

“Fuck off,” he responds, and I giggle.

The toaster dings and Jimmy turns around, taking out both bagels. He hands mine over to my plate and slides the cream cheese over. “I know you’d never voluntarily take butter.”

I take a knife and open the container, sticking it in and spreading it on the first half. “You know what’s funny? I always thought you were a butter guy.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s too much sodium for my liking. You can buy several flavors of cream cheese, while butter just remains the same. It gets redundant after awhile.”

“Like me?”

There goes the puppy-dog eyes. That’s when I know he’s about to be serious with his words. “Anyone but you.”

Anyone but you.

Anyone but me.

The world could end tomorrow and he’d probably want to spend the last few minutes with me, wouldn’t he?

I don’t think so. Nice try.

Breakfast is quick and quiet as always. I don’t even end up finishing all of my bagel. I tell him that I’ll save it for later. Both of us know that’s not true.

I get up from my chair and motion toward my room. That is until I forget the gifts are still sitting on the counter. No. I don’t wanna bear the weight of them in my arms again. I’d be carrying the burden right back in when I don’t need it. However, I’ve somewhat succumbed to the thought already. Would it really make a difference?

Picking up from where I left off, dead in my tracks, I lift my feet again and head toward my place of solace. Again, it can’t hurt me if I don’t see it. Well, that doesn’t apply to everything, but whatever.

Shutting the door, I walk over to the nightstand and grab the remote, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. Brain rotting for the rest of the day sounds better than talking about nothing.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday was the same.

Tuesday was too.

Wait, what day comes after Tuesday? Last time I checked, I was repeating the same cycle over and over.

I’m awoken not by my alarm, but my phone lighting up my home screen. It sent me a notification. It’s a message.

And of course, who else would it be from?

It reads Ran out to get us Dunkin. I’ll be back in a little bit

How long is a little bit? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Ten hours? Hell, not coming back at all?

I drag myself out of bed and head straight for the door, opening it to walk the short distance into the bathroom. I shut the door and turn on the light. Staring at myself in the mirror, I evaluate my reflection. She’s unrecognizable again. The hair is too messy, the face is forming boarders of stress zits (at least that’s what I suppose), the eyebags look a little heavier, skin a little paler, brain more foggier.

I grip my hands on the sink and wander my eyes down to the counter. Jimmy was obviously in here before he left. His toothbrush looks to be drying and a razor sitting on the marble countertop.

I pick up the razor, looking down at the shiny blade with what feels like not a wave of exhaustion, but a wave of dehydration coming over me. It occurs that I never filled up my water bottle before I went to bed. I could always get up in the middle of the night and refill it, but I don’t wanna wake him. Besides, I’ve never felt comfortable being active in the late night hours. How weird to be awake when everyone else is asleep.

My vision starts to blur, and I immediately grab the counter for support. I crouch down onto the floor an lay my legs down on the bathmat and my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes. Gosh, I’m freezing. It’s not like the A.C. is on. I blindly fumble for the razor that’s still sitting on the sink, feeling it fall into my lap. I press the blade to my face, feeling the cool metal rest on some part of my body. Surely, it will help.

But it doesn’t.

I move it to my kneecaps. Nope, not there, either.

I pin it to my wrist. That’s the spot.

The feeling of goosebumps take over my body, legs shaking at the sensation. I still can’t see clearly. Shutting my eyes again, the blade traces around my wrist. I still feel cold.

One slow, steady motion.

And then another.

A rapid gasp escapes my mouth, settling into the intruding warmth. Now I feel better.

Until I don’t.

Between the dizziness and the absence of sharp metal doing everything it can to keep me warm, my head slides off the wall and hits the floor. It’s at a cool temperature. I don’t feel myself starting to slow down, but my eyes are pressed closed. I can feel my lips slowly part.

I see him. He’s smiling. He’s been waiting for me. “There you are, babe. I hated waiting this long. Let’s go finish the story we never got to write.”

I take a weak yet deep breath. “Okay.”

And then he’s guiding me past the gates.

Or so I think.

He disappears. Where did he go? I guess this pattern of leaving continues in the afterlife.

Or so I think again.

He comes back with his A bracelet. He smirks. “You really thought I left without it, huh?”

I shake my head, smiling. “But I did.”

“Don’t worry about that. That’s what this place is for. It’s all about fresh starts.”

A fresh start, you say?

“I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” he continues.

I look into his bright blue eyes. “I had no other choice.”

“Of course you did.”

“And what was that?”

“To live.”

I look back at him with a blank stare.

He grabs me by the hand. “Live for me.”

I sigh. “But I already did.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ve barely even started.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. You’ve done it for 2 months already. It’s just the rest of your life to go.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You know what? Maybe it is. Soon enough, you’ll be here when you need to. But not right now.”

“What do you mean?”

I see the gates open. He turns around, dragging me by the arm.

“Go live for me, will you?”

I try to escape his grip. “No, no, I can’t do it again! Why can’t I just come with you?”

“Because that’s not how this is going to work.”

“Well, then, how is it going to work?”

“It starts with you waking up each day and me not being the first thought. You’ll move on from there.”

“But I don’t want to!” I yell in earshot.

“Gonna have to, babe,” he responds. “You’ve got people waiting for you.”

‘Yeah, like who?”

“Your family, the team, anyone that you have ever known is anxiously awaiting your return.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then why do I see you lying down on the gurney in the back of an ambulance?”

What?

“Why does Jim’s face look red, like he’s just finished crying?”

But he’s never cried. What is he even doing here?

“Why are you intubated?”

I don’t know.

“Why did your heart stop beating again?”

It’s never beaten since you’ve left.

“Why are paramedics pushing down on your chest?”

It’s a lost cause.

“Okay, never mind, babe, you came back. Whew! That was a close one.”

Damn it.

“Oh, the ambulance stopped! I think we’re here!”

Great.

“Hey! New York Presbyterian! I died here! What makes me think they’re gonna save you?”

I hope they don’t.

“You know what, Abby? You might have actually gotten your wish.”

God do I hope so.

“Aw man, do you see Jim’s face? Look at it. He looks scared out of his mind, like he saw a ghost or something. I’ve never seen him like that.”

Me either.

“Yeah, you might wanna turn around and walk back through these gates. Once you wake up, he’s gonna kill you.”

I’d dare to see him try.

“You’re really brave for doing this on his birthday. What a great present for him to have, right?”

Oh, no.

Wait.

Wait.

Oh, my God.

I forgot about that.

“Still wanna go back?”

No.

Anywhere but there.

“Help me,” I manage to say.

“Oh, honey, I can’t help you,” he begins. “But I can guide you, make sure you don’t do anything like that ever again.”

“I wanna go with you.”

“No, you failed this time. You’re not ready.”

“But I am.”

“You will be very soon.” He kisses my hand. “I gotta go. Do me a favor and wake up, yeah?”

And that’s exactly what I do.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes struggle with fluttering open, but I feel another cool metal surface beneath my hands. It definitely doesn’t feel like the bathroom.

It’s quiet. I can hear distant murmurs, but none of them can be picked up on in a close distance.

I wiggle my fingers and then my toes. My vision slowly starts to come back, too.

The first thing I notice is the grippy socks that are covering my feet. They’re blue. They barely fit. Something’s not right.

After that, I look at the closed door. There are signs on the back of it, depicting a pain scale and informational resources. Physically, my pain is a 10. Emotionally, my pain is a 10 too, thanks for asking.

On my left side, there’s a sink with a long countertop and numerous cabinets. I wonder what’s in them.

I start to feel like I’ve been stripped of my clothes. That’s because I have been. 

I look down ay my legs and notice I’m covered in a cotton gown. It’s got blue and white designs. I’m starting to feel warm again.

My wrists feel tight, and that’s because of the bandages and gaws that are taped down. It’s difficult to move them around. Wait a minute. Why do I have bandages on?

I take a deep breath and divert my gaze into the corner. I see a shadow sitting in a chair. It’s slightly hunched over, their face buried in their hands. I don’t think it’s crying, but it sure looks discombobulated.

I don’t even know who it is.

The shadow lifts itself up from its bent position, sitting up straight now. I can hear the tapping of one of their shoes on the floor. A shaky breath, rubbing their hands on their thighs. A sniff of the nose. The feeling of their eyes watching me.

I look down at my right wrist. It’s got a bracelet on it. Only it’s not the one with the R in the middle.

It looks like an admitted bracelet.

It’s got my name, birthday, and unit that I’m placed in.

Emergency.

What happened?

I look back up to the shadow.

Only it’s not a shadow anymore.

There’s an actual person sitting there.

An actual person has come to see me? Oh, how sweet.

That is until I get a better look.

At him. 

Ryan was right.

Jimmy. 

He’s actually sitting there.

RIght where I can see.

And it looks like it’ll be his turn to kill me.

His face is red, his body completely on high alert. He might just bounce out of that chair if someone opens up that door.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks at me with the darkest set of eyes I have ever seen. It’s like they’ve lost their sparkle, their shine. Let’s just say they’ve gone lifeless.

He’s not the only one.

I stare back at him. I can feel my glasses on my face, helping me see him better. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I’ve ever noticed him look so utterly hopeless. Not until this moment, at least.

I don’t say anything either. I’m waiting for one of his sarcastic, knife-stabbing words to take a dagger at my heart. You know, the one that literally stopped beating? That’s a first occurrence where I don’t have to live in a figurative state of mind.

Everything about him looks absolutely disheveled. His face, his clothes, his hands that are holding so much tension right now, given that I can see his veins, that I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to strangle me and have me go for another round.

But he doesn’t budge.

And with sudden abruptness, as the door starts to open, he quietly says these three words.

“You promised me.”

I just sit there, no change in expression. Wait, what did I promise him?

Both an ER doctor and nurse emerge from behind the door. The doctor is a middle-aged man, probably not too much older than Jimmy. The nurse is a woman with her shiny blonde hair in a slick ponytail. She’s got pink and purple pens sitting in her coat pocket. Neither of them look excited. Instead, sad.

The doctor opens his mouth as the nurse shuts the door. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sanderson.” He points to the nurse. “And this is Dr. Rileston. She’s gonna take some of your vitals real quick.”

I adjust my sitting position on the bed, watching Dr. Rileston listen to my heart, both on my chest and upper back, “Elevated, but steady,” she reports.

Then she takes my blood pressure. “Elevated, but steady,” she repeats.

Then I have to follow the pink pen waving in front of my eyes. “Alert and functioning. Doesn’t look like there’s any signs of brain damage.”

Guess she’s a woman of few words. Concise and to the point.

That’s how I wish our conversations would go.

It’s time for Dr. Sanderson to possibly interrogate me. “Can you recall what you were doing before the attempt? Do you remember what happened? Anything helps, even if it’s the smallest detail.”

I swallow the saliva in my throat. “I don’t know,” I squeak out. “I was in the bathroom and then got dizzy, so I sat on the floor.”

“And you don’t remember taking anything with you?”

I pause. “No, but I did get cold.”

He clears his throat. “There was a profuse amount of bleeding from both your wrists when paramedics arrived. Not before your friend here found you.”

I’ve just made his most recent nightmare an actual reality.

“He said,” gesturing to Jimmy, “that you were pale and your lips were dry. Could it be that you were dehydrated before this?”

“That explains the dizziness, I guess,” I reply soft spokenly.

“He found a razor in your right hand. That was yours, I presume?”

I don’t answer.

“Based on the extent of the injury, we can assume that this was intentional?”

I don’t answer again.

“Yes.”

That didn’t come from me.

Dr. Sanderson turns his attention to Jimmy. “It was?”

He meets his eyes. They’re not glassy, but they might as well could be. “I’m completely positive.”

I hate him even more than I ever thought I did.

“Has she ever had thoughts of killing herself?”

“Yeah, she’s joked about it a couple times.”

I hate him.

“She lost her boyfriend in a car accident 2 months ago. Hasn’t been the same since.”

I hate you.

“Any changes in mood, appetite, lifestyle?”

Jimmy answers for me again because God forbid I should. Who cares? Let the man blabber on.

“She has her own place, but she’s been living with me for the time being. Appetite’s been the same, but I’ve noticed her not eating as much, let alone finishing her meals. I’ll say that her mood tends to differ, but honestly, she’s been upset and sounds a little hopeless that nothing will get better. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have done this.”

It feels like a knife being stabbed to the heart.

“Are you concerned about her inflicting harm on yourself or others?” Dr. Sanderson asks.

I look at him, and then at Jimmy.

“She’s already done so, just not physically. But to answer the question, no, I am not.”

Did he really have to mention that first part? Of course he did.

“Well, we have two options here,” Dr. Sanderson continues. “We can keep her here under 48-72 hour watch and then refer her to grief counseling, where they’ll prescribe her treatment, or we can get someone in here to clean and bandage up the cuts, give you the referrals, and then you’ll be on out of here.” He looks at Jimmy. “It’s up to you.”

Wait.

It’s not up to me?

“Given her current status, we’d feel more comfortable if someone else were to make the decision. The situation can account for not being in the right mental space to think about something like that.”

Seriously?

“If I were to keep her here, she’d have to be admitted, right?”

Oh, don’t tell me-

Dr. Sanderson nods. “We’d admit her to the ICU, have a nurse check in on her about every hour or so, perhaps bring a psychiatrist down and speak with her about options to seek help.”

God, I hate that word.

I can tell that Jimmy’s concentrating. I don’t think he’s even afraid of saying the wrong thing. If he wants to get the hell away from me, get some temporary freedom, maybe it’s his best choice to have me stay.

He catches me looking. Please, please don’t do what I think you might. However, he has every option to do so. As we’ve already established, I’m not in control of this decision because I’m too weak, too empty minded. What kind of patient care is this? I swear it has to be some sort of hoax. It’s gotta be, right? No.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let her get bandaged up.”

Oh, thank God.

Dr. Sanderson tilts his head, perhaps in uncertainty. “You certain?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy replies. “She’s not a danger to anyone.”

“But do you think she is to herself?”

“I don’t think she ever will be again after this.”

He sighs. “Alright, then. We’ll have a nurse come in and clean the cuts, then stitch them up.”

Jimmy clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Sanderson replies. He and Dr. Rileston walk out the door, shutting it behind them.

The sound of noise coming from the hallway is the only one that fills the room. I hear a loud, frustrated sigh, face buried in hands again.

I stare up at the clock. It’s a little past 11:30. It feels like we’re here at night, but my mind is playing tricks on me. I want to get out of here.

Neither one of us thinks about talking. He’s too distraught, and I can’t take back what I did. I can’t justify it. I will say this, though: He is definitely having a harder time at grasping this than I am. Did he seriously think it wouldn’t happen? I literally warned him.

There’s a knock on the door. A woman enters. She’s got curly brown hair and glasses. “Hi, I’m Dr. Cole,” she says. “We’re just gonna clean and sterilize these cuts and then bandage them up good as new. I’m just gonna remove these gaws, okay?”

I don’t even nod. Instead, I zone out on the posters plastered on the wall. Then, I decide to close my eyes. Perhaps I can transport myself into another world where I meet with him under different circumstances. That was until I feel the rubbing alcohol make contact with my left wrist, making me wince.

“Yeah, it might sting a little bit. Just gotta hang in there.”

Oh, I’ll try.

Jimmy can’t even bear to look at me. He’s got his phone in between his hands, probably texting the group chat (you know, the one without me, of course) about what happened. Then again, it is everybody’s business, right?

I don’t know it took me this long to see this, but he’s got my purse resting on his lap. He seriously thought to bring it? Okay.

Dr. Cole moves her spinny chair over to my right wrist, starting the cleaning process. I turn away from the both of them, staring at the cabinets. I wonder what hospitals really keep in there. I’ve never seen them open, let alone be touched. Are they just there for show? The rubbing alcohol burns my skin again, so I clench my left hand into a fist, digging my fingernails into my palm, forming tiny crescents. It’s only a few seconds before she applies this cream onto my cut, taking away the uncomfortable sensation. She goes back to my left side and does the same for my other one. Finally, she takes the bandages resting on the tray and unwraps the roll, cutting it with scissors at an appropriate length before lifting my wrist and rolling it around tightly until it ends. She repeats the procedure once more.

“Given the depth of the cuts, there is a possibility they might scar if you don’t take care of them,” she says. “You’ll want to clean them out with rubbing alcohol and any kind of anti-inflammatory cream. It will decrease the current bits of swelling and the risk of infection.”

Great. Another thing to keep on top of.

She gives me a sympathetic smile, but I barely look at her. “You’re all set. One of you will just need to sign out at the front desk, and then Dr. Sanderson told me to remind you about doing research on certain grief counselors in the area. He’s already got a list printed out.”

Jimmy nods. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She shuts the door behind her.

I sit up from the bed, my legs dangling off of it. I hold on to the tiny bit of courage I have to speak. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

He reaches underneath his chair, my pajamas scrunched up in a plastic bag. Yeah, that totally doesn’t elicit a similar memory.

He extends his arm out for me to grab it. “I’ll let you change,” he mutters, not even looking at me, as he stands up and opens the door, shutting it quietly behind him. I don’t hear the footsteps fading away. He’s seriously trying to guard me? When will it end?

I notice that he took my purse with him. Does he not know I could easily wear it myself? Why can’t I just get through to him? It’s exhausting.

I undo the knot on the back of the gown and shimmy my way out of it, the only thing remaining on being my underwear. I open the bag and fumble for my bra, T-shirt, and shorts. Oh, and don’t forget the slippers (Yeah, he totally picked those out. I guess those would be the easiest to put in there). After I’ve put everything on, I take one last look around the room. It’s a miracle he chose to let me leave. Someone in their right mind would have me remain here against my will, but I don’t think it would do him any better if he wouldn’t be around to check on me. Guess I’ve signed up for more of his helicopter “parenting.”

Opening the door, I slowly walk out, looking around for him. Where the heck did he go?

And then I spot him at the front desk with the receptionist. I would assume he’s signing me out. In his right hand, he’s holding what I believe to be Dr. Sanderson’s list and a bunch of brochures. Damn, he’s really not gonna give me the chance to explain myself, huh?

Then again, I’m not sure if this can be worth an explanation. 

He turns around and notices me awkwardly hanging by the door, motioning his head toward the exit. Ah, I see we’re on no speaking terms again. I walk as quick as I can in my slippers and remain behind him. He’s literally walking so fast that it’s freaking me out. I’m afraid he’s actually planning on abandoning me.

Just as I think that, he stops dead in his tracks on the pavement outside the hospital. Turning around again and looking at me, I’m expecting him to start a scene. No, he wouldn’t do that. His self-control is too high. He walks a little closer, my heartbeat picking up speed, the opposite of what it did just around two and a half hours ago.

“I rode in the ambulance, so obviously, I can’t drive home. I’m gonna order an Uber, ‘kay?”

He sounds impatient, if anything, the tiniest amount of pissed off. I don’t even bother to respond.

We find a bench to sit on that surrounds the flowers growing in their own little corner. They’re so many different colors. The miniscule attention to detail when it comes to those things do not usually go unnoticed. They’re always so pretty that I wish I could pick one up from the dirt and take it home. I’m obviously not going to do it now, but it’s just a thought. It’s a nice distraction.

He’s looking out at the parking lot, watching cars roll on by, pull into an unoccupied spot, people entering and exiting. Anything he can do to avoid me. I don’t blame him.

“Could I have my purse, please?” I ask.

He flings it over to me, hitting me on the thigh. I bite my tongue, doing my very damn best not to cry. That action alone can signify he’s already given up on me.

I clutch it in my hands, my eyes already starting to burn. No. I will not let him win. Not today, at least.

Side-eyeing him, I can see he’s on his phone again, probably telling the group chat ‘Oh, hey, she’s walking free! Without being given any time to think about her decisions! Isn’t that great? Fuck yeah!’ His leg bounces like it’s an out-of-control bug that’s buzzing around a room. I wanna hold it down so it can stop, but I’m sure he’d lose his mind at the thought of me, out of all people, attempting to provide any comfort to him right now.

Our Uber shows up about 5 minutes later. At least it wasn’t too long of a wait. I don’t know how more I could’ve continued sitting next to someone who has all of their emotions bottled up and slowly leaking from a powder keg. If it won’t happen today, I’ve delayed the inevitable. And that’s my fault. I know.

Entering the backseat, I sit down quietly, putting on my seatbelt and listening to Jimmy giving the driver the address before we take off. I try to remove all of the voices in my head by staring out the window. The sun is shining at perhaps its highest angle of the day, and I’m not even halfway through it yet. It’s almost blinding, but maybe it can cleanse my eyes, help me see in a different light. Bad joke, sorry.

The drive is dead silent that you could hear a pin drop. I wanna jump out of a moving vehicle again. It feels like I’m suffering, as this could’ve been the worst punishment the universe chose to grant me. However, I think the worst punishment has already occurred. There’s no need for another one.

When we make it back to the apartment, both of us get out of the car and walk through the parking lot to get up to the entrance doors. He doesn’t even wait for me. That’s deserved.

I see him get in the elevator and watch the doors immediately close. It’s okay. I’ll wait for the next one. When the next one does arrive, I step in slowly, pressing the ‘4’ on the keypad. As the doors close again, this time around me, I have never felt more alone. I’m so used to him being next to me that I recently started to push him away without totally realizing it. It’s not like I reached my goal, but my actions and attitudes are continued catalysts for it to actually become a thing, where I’ll have to listen to him telling me to pack my things and go back home and to never come here again. Because I didn’t promise him.

The doors open and I walk out, tiptoeing down the hallway. The apartment door is still open, so at least he didn’t forget that I was still trailing behind. I thought it would be in his benefit to not let me in at all. Luckily, I have a key. Unless he actually locks it with the latch. I won’t have so much luck then.

Walking through the entrance, I notice the Dunkin sitting on the counter. He’s got his regular, bland, boring coffee, and for me a matcha latte. He knows how much I love it. There’s a corresponding bag next to it. I think there’s donuts in there, but at this point, I don’t think I’ll ever get to know.

He’s sitting on the couch. The TV’s not on, so I’m not sure what he’s staring at. I shut the door behind me and lock it. That’s enough to grab his attention and shift his frame to intimidate me once again.

“Get the hell over here,” he says gravelly.

I kick off my slippers and walk over hesitantly. I stand on the rug that’s beneath the couch.

“Sit down,” he continues.

I sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Look at me.”

Again, why should I?

I do it anyway. His face isn’t red anymore, but you can tell the life has been drained right out of it. He doesn’t look relaxed; in fact, kinda the same way he did after we drove back from packing up my things at my condo.

“What-,” he begins, “in the hell,” he pauses, “is wrong with you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

He scoffs angrily. “You don’t know? I’ll let the blood on the bathroom floor do the talking then.”

“I’m s-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He seethes through his teeth. “You are not, and you sure as hell ain’t getting out of it this time.”

I look down at my bandaged wrists.

“How could you be so selfish?”

I continue looking down. “I wasn’t.”

“Really? That type of action doesn’t scream selfish to you?”

“No,” I whisper softly.

“What was that?”

“No.”  I say it a little louder.

Another frustrated sigh makes its way out of his mouth. “Do you wanna hear my side of the story?”

I don’t, but I know he’s going to tell me anyway, rubbing more salt in the wound.

“I walked through the door, put everything down on the counter, and saw your bedroom door was open, so I thought you were in there. It didn’t take me long to see the bathroom door, though, was closed. So, I had to make a choice, figuring out where I thought you were. I chose the bathroom. I walk over to the door, knock on it, call out your name. No answer. I knock on it again. No answer. I notice it’s unlocked, so I open it, bracing myself to accidentally walk in on you using the bathroom as worse case scenario. I don’t even get to move it halfway before I just see you lying there, motionless, my razor in your hand.”

Can’t even imagine how he feels right now.

“It takes me a quick minute to notice the blood trickling on the floor, trying to figure out where the hell it’s coming from. I thought you might’ve accidentally ran into the wall or something and passed out.” He smiles as he scoffs. “Oh, boy, was I wrong.”

Can’t even look at him.

“So I back out of there, my hand literally shaking as I grab my phone on the counter, dial 911, speak to the operator, telling her my name, my address, why I’m calling, waiting for paramedics to arrive. They knock on the door. I let them in. They rush into the bathroom, hook you up to the Lifepak. The lead paramedic tells me you’re not breathing. He says it’s perhaps due to the amount of blood you lost. I watch them lift you up on the gurney, buckle you in as I’m running into your room to grab your things. The bed’s not made, the blinds aren’t open, nothing’s the way it should be. I grab your slippers to make sure you have shoes to walk in. I grab my things off the counter and follow them out. My heart is beating one million miles a minute. I feel like I might as well have a heart attack in that moment to be dramatic.”

Still can’t.

“And we’re in the back of the ambulance, literally clenching your purse in my hands, wondering if this is all I’m gonna have left of you. They got your heart back, and then you flatlined. Four minutes.”

I can feel his eyes burning into my face somehow.

“Pushing down on your chest, fighting to get you back. And they did. The only thought I had in that moment was having to attend another funeral.”

Well, good thing you don’t now.

“Got to the hospital. They dragged you out of the back and onto the pavement, rushing you in while I slowly followed behind. Heck, I was so close to just not walking in at all. But, if I remember correctly, I said that we have to be there for each other, and I can’t go back on my word. You did.”

I know that.

“The emergency trauma unit brings you to your own room. They unstrap you from the gurney, get you changed out of your clothes, get you your own bracelet. Meanwhile, here I am, sitting in the chair, you sitting in the bed, eyes closed, an IV jabbed into your arm, hooked up to monitors so that your body doesn’t get another chance to crap out.”

I didn’t even hear the sound of a monitor when I woke up.

“The paramedics bandaged you up in the bathroom. I’m looking at them. They’re almost blood-soaked red. It makes me wince. It makes me wanna wake you up myself and take that knife I pointed at your chest and move it to your throat.”

We’re really bringing that back? I thought we were past it.

Guess not.

“And I got to wondering: how do I make the best of this situation? There’s always a silver lining, right? Wrong.”

Damn.

“You could’ve fucking died, and I would’ve been the last one to see you. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have left the apartment. I should’ve stayed. I feel responsible, even though there’s no logical reason for me to.”

I stare down at the carpet, distracting myself with the patterns.

“Finally, like the grace of God, and the grace of the universe, you woke up. I knew you would. You had to. Why? Because I was not letting you leave without hearing from me first.”

Of course you wouldn’t.

“By the way, the reason I didn’t let you stay is because for these past two months, you have never been good at doing things alone. I don’t wanna get a call in the middle of the night to find out you’ve flatlined again or worse. We’ve already been here on the other side of things, having to wait for news. This time, we were part of the actual event. Again, I still waited. You, however, were tired of waiting.”

Jimmy shifts on the couch, sitting up from what was his lackadaisical posture, and sits up straight, moving toward the edge of the cushion. He takes his hands and places them on my kneecaps. His palms have taken their turn to start burning. That gesture alone reluctantly makes me break the avoidance and I look straight at him, brown eyes lacking so much life. I grip my hands on the table.

His voice returns to normal, less agitation and still the same amount of seriousness, but it’s somewhat shifted elsewhere. “I’m going to look through those brochures, and the names that Dr. Sanderson has on that paper, and I’m gonna research and see which place has the best reviews, the best people to see, the best outcome they can give you. This is non-negotiable. No more excuses, no more outs. No more hospital visits. I’ve only been saying it for so long. You need help, and now you’re getting it.”

The only thing I can manage to do is blink. “Sorry.”

He looks at me apologetically. “But you’re not. If you were, you never would’ve done it. We both know that.”

I can’t even nod. I just look away.

“C’mon,” he says, removing his hands and standing up. My knees are hot. “You gotta drink something.” He motions over to the counter, holding my matcha.

I get up and walk over to him, taking it from his hand. I rip the paper covering off the straw and poke it through the middle of the cup, taking a small sip. I could say that matcha does cure all sadness, but right now, it doesn’t.

Jimmy takes the donuts out of the bag. One’s double chocolate, the other’s strawberry frosted. He folds the bag over on the counter. I guess we’re using it as our plate. The strawberry one is definitely for me. Taking a bite, I savor the feeling of the icing and sprinkles relishing in my mouth. Some of them are definitely gonna get stuck in there, but they’ll eventually find their way out.

He’s sipping his coffee while staring at the top brochure, then moving his gaze to the window. The wind is moving the leaves around in a swift manner. It’s calm. His mind is definitely not.

I feel the need to remind him. I still keep my quiet tone. “Happy Birthday.”

There is no reason for me to even say that after what just happened, but I can’t wait another year. What if everything’s different then? We might not speak, I might be moved back in. There’s too many possibilities. There’s one action I already regret, but this one, I don’t.

He just looks at me with the slightest of frowns. It’s a combination of dissatisfied and sad. He does the right thing by not responding.

So we sit in silence, eating what we could consider our lunch, given it’s already the afternoon, with the brochures becoming more appealing. At least he now gets to do his favorite thing.

Helping me.

[hongism]

1:58 am - c. jongho 18+

↣ pairing: jongho x fem!reader ↣ genre: fluff, smut ↣ wc: 2.0k ↣ for @ppersonna​​: “HELLO MY BESTIE RATTY PLS JONGHO WITH 25 - Being somewhere you’re not supposed to be 34 - “It’s 2am. Go back to sleep.” ↣ warnings: language, oral sex: f

In your defense, Jongho is both a maniac and insatiable. What started as a lovely movie night between the two of you, with his roommate Yeosang curled up in the armchair by the couch, has quickly devolved into leagues of stress for you and endless amusement for Jongho. Yeosang is (thankfully) off in dreamland and fast asleep despite the movie still going in the background, although that does nothing to quell your current nerves as Jongho’s hand is moving further up by the minute. 

It started at your kneecap, two fingers tracing mindless patterns into your skin under the blanket. Then he slipped to the inside of your knee and clutched tight at your flesh before pulling up the inside of your thigh.

Now, he has a hand basically over your crotch, close enough to make you sweat but far enough away to have you refraining from squeezing your thighs shut over his fingers.

And being a cocky little shit, of course Jongho knows exactly what he’s doing to you — if the smirk curling over his lips is any indication at least. You aren’t about to scar yourself or Yeosang by fooling around on the already stained leather couch in their apartment, as much as you really want to give in to his lingering touches.

You haven’t been paying attention to the movie on the screen for at least an hour, maybe longer than that because you don’t even recall the name of the damn film at this point, and all your focus is honed in on the fingers pressing into your thigh. Jongho won’t stop teasing with his touches either. Every few seconds, he squeezes just enough to startle you into sitting up straight just when you’ve recovered from the last touch. You’re certain he’s trying to seem interested in the movie given the way he keeps making interested noises or scowling at the screen, but then his smirk returns and you know what he’s really up to.

In short, you have had more than enough of his fun and games, growing increasingly frustrated with each passing second. Your body is so pent up and overheated that sweat is pooling at your brow, and that’s what makes you nudge his hand away as a last-ditch effort to save yourself from this teasing hell he’s trapped you in. Yet this isn’t your apartment and you can’t very well escape to his bedroom without looking suspicious to Yeosang. As far as his roommate is concerned, you and Jongho are still just friends, even if there is an ungodly amount of sexual tension lingering between the two of you like this.

Water. Yes, you need water. And where can you get water? The kitchen of course. Perfect plan. You should be safe from Jongho’s antics there, no?

“Feeling alright, Y/n?”

As it turns out, you are very much not safe in the kitchen.

You nearly throw the glass in your hand at Jongho’s head out of sheer shock when he sneaks up on you, creeping into the kitchen behind you like a damn ghost. You manage to hold back from doing that, but a small yelp escapes your lips instead. Jongho laughs at that, continuing to chuckle under his breath even when you try to level him with a sharp glare. He has the audacity to look absolutely delectable at nearly two o’clock in the morning wearing nothing but a stupid black t-shirt and stupid grey sweatpants with his stupid hands shoved deep in the pockets like he wasn’t trying to practically finger you on the couch moments ago.

“I don’t know, am I?” It made sense in your head, although that might be because of the haze of arousal over your brain because once it actually comes out, you’re wondering why the hell you said that.

“Well, you felt more than alright just a few minutes ago.” He’s smiling again, another lascivious grin that has you sinking your teeth into your lower lip.

“Not here,” you hiss back as a last-ditch effort to talk yourself out of this (again).

“Because Yeosang is in the other room? Come on, Y/n, you know half the fun is in the risk of getting caught.”

A scoff passes through your lips, loud enough to resound through the small kitchen.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re painfully aroused. Are we done stating the obvious?”

Throwing this glass at his head is a lot more tempting now, but that would certainly cause a ruckus and Yeosang would wake up in a heartbeat.

“Only because you were fucking feeling me up on the couch like it’s your goddamn job!”

Jongho crosses the kitchen in three seconds flat, suddenly so close to you that you can’t breathe your own air without feeling the heat of his breath against your lips. You stumble back and hit the edge of the counter behind you. Jongho doesn’t give you a moment to recover, catching your wrists in his grip and pressing them hard against the surface of that same counter.

“Careful there, doll, you wouldn’t want to wake anyone up, would you?”

“No, that’s not what I want,” you exhale. It’s not enough to quell the desire in your gut, especially not when Jongho’s fucking thigh is pressed between your legs and leaving you squirming. He knows how you feel about his thighs thanks to an unfortunate admission on your part one night when you had too much alcohol (and unfortunately Yeosang knows too since he was an unwilling participant in that conversation).

“What do you want then? Although, I’m fairly certain that I know.” Again, Jongho’s gaze flicks down over your body, enough to be obvious about the way he’s checking you out from head to toe, but he returns to staring you in the eye after a second.

“Shut up and eat me out already,” you hiss under your breath. In the same sentence, you free your wrists of his grasp and push down hard on his shoulders. It’s nothing compared to his strength — he’s more than strong enough to resist your futile efforts, but he goes along with it anyway and lets you push him to his knees in front of the counter.

“You’re lucky I never make you beg, baby. If I did, you’d never get to cum.”

Tempting, you think, but right now you aren’t in the mood to be edged or teased anymore. Jongho did his fair share of that for over two hours, so all that is on your mind is a release under his skilled tongue.

“Please, Jongho, I’d like to do this before Yeosang wakes up…”

His hands are already curled around your pajama shorts, taking the soft fabric into his grip and pulling down with no resistance. A sharp inhale follows as the cold air hits your nether regions, and Jongho lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder as he bunches your shorts into the palm of his hand.

“Be glad I didn’t take you on the couch right in front of him then.”

Then Jongho is smiling up at you from between your legs, and you would be lying if you said that isn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life. You brace yourself on the counter, knuckles white from the effort of clinging to the marble, and the man beneath you takes his teasing a step further. Soft lips caress the inside of your knee over the spot he clung to for the better part of an hour, then he follows the same path his hand took as well. He doesn’t stop until his nose is flush with your folds, and even then he exhales against you in a way that has a chill rushing down your spine. Your curl away from the counter, unintentionally pressing your hips closer to his mouth in the same fluid motion. It’s enough to make his nose hit your clit dead-on in a way that has a strangled moan escaping your lips. You fling a hand up to your mouth (too late as it does absolutely nothing to conceal the sound).

“Now it sounds like you’re trying to wake Yeosang up, doll.”

“I’d like to see you stay quiet when I’m sucking you off next time.” You manage to smirk a little, just enough to be playful and throw him off a little. He’s just as quick to retaliate, which is both a good and bad thing for you because his next move is to hoist your other leg onto his shoulder, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to clamp your thighs around his face. You have to bite the side of your thumb to quell the noises bubbling up your throat; your remark seems to have been enough to spur him fully into action, his tongue brushing between your folds until he reaches your hole with practiced ease. You can’t count on one hand how many times you’ve indulged in this — his tongue pressing at your entrance like he has no other purpose in life, eating you out with more enthusiasm than ever, drawing so many noises out of you that it’s getting difficult to keep quiet.

“Jongho?”

The man between your legs freezes but doesn’t move away from your cunt, staring up at you from between your legs without blinking for so long that you think he’s truly stuck like that. Admittedly, you’re stuck where you are too, both because he’s got your legs around his face and on account of Yeosang’s sudden intrusion on your otherwise intimate moment. Your gaze goes straight to the archway to the kitchen. The kitchen island is tall enough to block the view of your lower half, but if Yeosang steps even one more foot into the room, he will certainly see what Jongho is up to. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before he does enter, and you’re watching with peaked anxiety as Jongho sidles up your body into a standing position again.

His hands find your hips, and next thing you know, he’s moving you around and pushing you until your back hits the kitchen island. It protects you from possible exposure to Yeosang, which proves to be a good move on his part because Yeosang pokes his head in the archway a second later. Jongho moves to the side enough to avoid suspicion but you’re still quite nude from the waist down and screwed if Yeosang decides to come further in.

“Oh, there you two are. The movie’s over?” Yeosang says, easing his weight against the doorframe.

“Yeah, you fell asleep pretty early on honestly. But it’s 2 am. Go back to sleep. We’re just picking up some snacks we pulled out while you were asleep.”

You think that excuse is far too easy to see through, especially if Yeosang decides to even so much as glance around the kitchen to see that you are certainly not doing any cleaning whatsoever. You squeeze your eyes shut. Looking at Yeosang right now would be a mistake and you would probably give away what you and Jongho have been up to in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m too sleepy to help you anyway. See you in the morning.” Yeosang stifles a yawn, lifting the back of his hand to his mouth, then lets his arms fall into a stretch. He lingers for only one more second before disappearing from the archway. You exhale the second he disappears, shifting to stare Jongho down as your heart continues to race rampantly in your chest without relent.

“That was a fucking mood killer,” you mutter before crossing your arms over your chest. Jongho huffs out a sigh and puffs his cheeks full of air. He stretches a hand out to touch your bare hip again.

“Let me make it up to you?”

[iuv4eva]

5:45 p.m.

Nayeon is with Jihyo in her room.

“I’m upset with her. Shes been such a brat.”

Nayeon goes on to vent to Jihyo about how Jeongyeon has been spending more time with Momo and Sana instead of her. Her own girlfriend.

Jihyo agrees, noticing to sudden change in behavior towards Nayeon too.

“Maybe talk to her. Ask why she’s acting this way towards you?”

—

7:02 p.m.

Nayeon walks nervously towards Jeongyeon’s room. She opens the door which she instantly regrets. She walks in to see Momo on top of Jeongyeon, in a soft make out session on her bed.

“Can’t you knock..?” Jeongyeon says.

“What do you mean can’t I knock? I came to ask why you’ve been ignoring me these past days, but i guess I already have my answer.” Nayeon doesn’t hold back yelling at her.

She stomps out and slams the door behind her.

Their heated argument could be heard by everyone in the dorm.

Members worriedly walk towards Nayeon’s room trying to comfort her. She locks the door before they could come in, knowing she would just start yelling at them too out of anger.

Little did Nayeon know Jihyo was still there sitting quietly in the corner of the room. Jihyo couldn’t stand looking at her like this.

Hurt. Angry. Confused.

—

7:30 p.m.

While Tzuyu holds Chaeyoung back from cursing both Jeongyeon and Momo out, they just sit there. Laying down. Looking at the ceiling.

No words are being exchanged between the 2nd and 3rd eldest members. Just thinking about how they can continue their promotions as a group without an painfully awkward tension in the air.

“Go talk to her. I’ll take the blame.”

“I can’t. She won’t believe me. I hurt her. Badly.”

—

8:45 p.m.

Jeongyeon knocks on her girlfriend’s door.

Nayeon opens the door with a tear stained face, not caring about her appearance at this point.

“What do you want.”

“I didnt mean to..”

Nayeon just blankly stares at her not believing her bullshit.

“I was just so desperate for somebody’s affection. I figured you didn’t want to be with me anymore ever since i saw Jihyo coming into your room everyday.”

“Why would I fuck Jihyo??”

At this point both of them are pissed off.

“I never said you fucked Jihyo. I-“

“That’s what it sounds like.” Nayeon cuts her off.

“You know what. Nevermind. Since you’re always right and I’m always wrong.” Jeongyeon raises her voice a little.

Before Jeongyeon could walk out the door, Nayeon grabs her arm softly.

“Im sorry.. My mind is just crowded with alot right now..”

She brings Jeongyeon in for a soft, passionate kiss, but she pulls away when she feels a tear touching her face.

“Why are you crying Jeongyeon-ah?”

“I- I should’ve never gotten away from you..I was so stup-“

“Shh. I got you alright?” Nayeon stares lovingly into her eyes.

They continue on. One thing leads to another and you know the rest..

—

10:03 p.m.

Jeongyeon, not being able to walk, is piggybacking on Nayeon to the kitchen.

(They both got hungry after rearranging eachothers guts for about an hour)

She sits Jeongyeon on the counter, giggling into a kiss.

While Nayeon looks for food in the fridge, Jihyo comes up beside Jeongyeon and leans her arm on the same counter.

“I see you both are fine now. Everyone heard you guys by the way.”

Jeongyeon just stares at her with her eyes wide open. Nayeon on the other hand just acts as if she didn’t hear shit.

—

10:55

Nayeon knows she can’t sleep soundly without making her girlfriend cum atleast two more times.

—

11:25

“Fuck..how am i going to dance tomorrow.” Jeongyeon stares at the ceiling just taking in how hard she just got fucked for the second time today.

“You should’ve thought about that before letting me top you.” Nayeon says with a sly grin on her face.

Suddenly, a knock on the door.

Jeongyeon goes to get it with wobbly legs. But Nayeon goes to support her by hugging her around her waist.

“Wae?”

“Can you guys shut the fuck up. Mina and I are trying to sleep.”

“Don’t act like you guys haven’t been loud before. Goodnight mianhae.” She rolls her eyes.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Let Me Take Care of You (Belphegor x GN!Reader)

The soft tweeting of birds outside the window, the sizzling of the bacon, the sound of the spatula scraping against the pan as I get it under the pancake, the little “tssssss” sound that scrambled eggs make when they’re still kind of wet and it’s not really sizzling but like… you know they’re cooking. It was all very soothing, and I tried to do everything as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake you up in the process. The sun hadn’t even risen completely yet and the sky was a beautiful mixture of violety blue, orange, and red. I wish you were awake to watch it rise with me, but you aren’t really a morning person, and… neither am I, but it’s come to my attention that you’ve never had breakfast in bed, and if anyone deserves it, it’s you.

I finish up the pancakes, quickly moving on to cut up the strawberries and bananas and placing them in a bowl mixed with blueberries and then moving the bowl onto the tray that already held the massive stack of pancakes. It’s a giant stack, because I was too tired to really measure out the batter, and I ended up making enough to serve like twenty people but this is fine. I finish up the eggs and bacon, placing them on a separate plate, and then burn my fingers as I grab the toast from the toaster and basically throw them on the plate, hoping they land and don’t slide off onto the floor. I pour the orange juice, and then pour a separate cup of coffee for you, placing both onto the tray next to the syrup, butter, sugar, milk, and creamer.

Carefully, I make my way up to your room, glad that even in my tired state I had remembered to keep the door cracked and I could just lightly push it open with my foot. You were still asleep, the blankets pulled up over your head and your arms wrapped tightly around your pillow. The sun had risen just enough to send a small ray through the window, but luckily it wasn’t at eye level… yet… cause that sucks and I don’t want you to wake up and immediately be blinded. I gently set down the tray on the side table and then slowly pull back the blankets from around your head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s time to wake up, Belphie.” I whisper it quietly, and I know that you heard me because you groaned, pulling the blankets back up around your head and mumbling into your pillow. “Five more hours…”

Pfft, I wish. I laugh softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Your food is gonna get cold…” Or I’d just start eating it myself. It was hard enough not to steal a piece of bacon while it was on the tray in the kitchen, but presentation is key and the tray as a whole looks really good right now and I don’t want to ruin anything… but also, it’s really tempting. “What food?” You were still mumbling into your pillow, and that mixed with the tiredness of your voice was just so cute to me. You’re fricking adorable. “Your breakfast, Belphie. It’s gonna get cold and it won’t taste very good.”

You groaned again and I could see you shaking your head from underneath the blanket. “I don’t want to actually get up…” And that’s when I pulled the blankets back again which made you roll over, staring up at me with a look that was less than amused. “You don’t have to get up… well… you should probably sit up, I don’t want you to choke or anything. But! I brought breakfast to you!” And yes, I was very excited to present it to you. I grabbed the tray off the table and held it proudly, smiling hopefully as you looked between my face and the contents on the tray. You were silent for a moment before one of your eyebrows lowered and you looked at me questioningly. “Why?”

“Because you’ve never had it before, and I like making you happy… and you usually miss breakfast because you sleep in and that’s not good.” You hummed softly, propping yourself up on a couple pillows against the headboard before grabbing the tray and placing it on your lap. As soon as I saw you were content, I pushed myself up off the bed. “Where are you going now? Aren’t you going to eat it with me?” You eyed the massive stack of pancakes and I smiled sheepishly before shaking my head. “Nope, it’s all for you. I also have towels in the drier right now so they’re really warm. When you’re done eating, take a shower and I’ll bring you the towels when you’re done… yeah?” Because honestly, who doesn’t love warm towels after a shower… they’re the best. But you looked more confused now than you did before, slowly chewing the scrambled eggs that you had scooped into your mouth.

“What’s all this for?” You pushed yourself even further up on the bed, and your confusion was precious, but also kind of sad. It’s like you weren’t used to someone just genuinely wanting you to be happy, so I shook my head before leaning in to kiss your forehead again, secretly enjoying the way your cheeks turned a light shade of pink from the action. “Because I love you… dork. Now eat, because I have something planned for later.” You didn’t have time to question it before I was walking out of the room. If you questioned it, I’d end up giving in and telling you, I’m not very good with keeping surprises as… well… surprises.

After breakfast was finished and all cleaned up, and you had finished your shower and took about 25 minutes just to get dressed because you ended up laying in the bed, wrapped up in the warm towels and almost dozing off, I was ready to take you to your surprise. It wasn’t much, but I knew you’d enjoy it, or, well, at least I hoped you would. I wanted to do the whole, cover your eyes as we walked up to the place, type thing… but you’re really tall and I can only walk on my tip toes so long before my legs get tired. So, I trusted that you’d just keep your eyes closed as I held your hand and walked you toward our destination. “I hear people…” You mumbled, and it actually made me snort, squeezing your hand lightly. “Yeah, you’re gonna hear a lot of that… we’re outside.” I could tell that you rolled your eyes, even with your eyes shut, but I knew that you’d at least cheer up a little bit once we got to where we’re going.

The neon lights around the massive room were bright, and I smiled to myself as I took them all in before turning to you. “You can open your eyes now!” Of course I was excited, not just for myself, but to see your reaction as well. You slowly opened your eyes, taking in the room around you, and then blinking a few times before looking down at me. “You… brought me to an arcade?” I nodded eagerly, but inside I was worried that maybe you weren’t as excited about it as I was… at least until your eyes lit up, scanning over the machines that lined the walls.

“Fuck yeah! Come on, let’s go.” Now you were the one dragging me around, not that I minded it. You looked so happy, and that was the whole point of all of this. “Where are we going?” I couldn’t help but laugh, luckily the sounds of all the games and the multiple people talking blocked out the sound. You stopped in front of one of the machines, smiling smugly down at me. “I’m about to kick your ass at Street Fighter.” I scoffed, fishing 50 cents out of my pocket and handing a quarter to you before shoving mine into the slot. “Try me… you’re about to get wrecked.”

We both sucked at the game, but we’re really good at button smashing, and honestly… The purpose wasn’t to actually win the games. It was just nice to see you having fun, to see you smiling and laughing and having a good time. The entire day was to show you and let you know, without actually saying it, that you’re important to me, and that your happiness is important to me, and that I care about you, and everyone deserves a day to be spoiled, and loved.

[crystaltrinket]

you put a move on me - Naruto - Uchiha Sasuke/Hyuuga Hinata - drabble series for SasuHina Month 2021

Summary: Rogue-nin Sasuke holds Hinata captive after an act of robbery goes awry.

[Rating: G-T? | Prompt: A Tribute To Your Favorite Fanart/Fic | Word Count: too many to count at this hour | Warnings: None]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Author's Note: Whew! Honestly, I had half of this done yesterday and worked on the rest today. Please forgive any mistakes. I relied on Google docs to correct my grammar.

I don't have a specific favorite SasuHina art or fic, so I just put together my favorite elements in SasuHina fic. Hope that works. This part is a little bit longer since I included 10 Omake pieces from Hinata's POV. Part 31 is wayyyy at the bottom but follows directly after Omake 29.5.

I hope you enjoy! And I hope to see you again next year ;) @sasuhinamonth

Omake Part 1.5 - 100 words

Hinata could feel herself moving. She willed her eyes to open but her body didn't obey. 'Am I dying? Is this death?'

She heard a low voice curse. Hinata tried to remember what happened before her vision went black. She remembered dressing in her finest kimono, getting into the palanquin and heading toward the country's borders to meet her new civilian husband. And then...

'Ah, yes,' she thought. 'The bandit murdered my clansmen in charge of handing me over to my new prison.' Red eyes came into her mind. Red eyes that could only belong to one clan.

'Uchiha Sasuke.'

Omake Part 7.5 - 100 words

Hinata steeled herself against her captor. She's no fool. She heard the rumors of his strength. Hinata figured the only way to deal with him was to pretend she was talking to another elder. Her clan head voice was something she perfected before she was cast away.

--

They rarely talked during their travels. But when he asked why she continued to follow him, she wished he kept silent. She was sure he could hear her heart beating loud in her chest.

Remembering her clan voice, she lifted her chin and answered.

Her shoulders almost slumped in relief, hearing his laughter.

Omake 10.5 - 100 words

Hinata could tell he was lying.

She can't imagine he accepted his clan's massacre so easily. To live without hearing their voice, seeing their smile, feeling their touch. Hinata's heart clenched.

She knew herself how the loss of a loved one can affect a person's psyche.

Unfortunately, O-bon festivities don't allow a grieving person the impact of acceptance.

Still, she doesn't pry and lets him rest. Her eyes wandered to him laying beside her on the hillside. Without his perpetual frown, he looked peaceful.

Hinata closed her eyes and exhaled.

She wished she could feel as peaceful as Sasuke looked.

Omake Part 12.5 - 100 words

She repeated those words to herself after Sasuke's team found out she was a missing-nin. Hinata shut her eyes, unwilling to cry. She couldn't give up her freedom now.

'I don't want to go back.'

Hinata felt a light tap on her shoulder. Sasuke was ready to go.

--

He said nothing to her on their journey. He didn't mention where they were headed to his teammates either.

She half expected him to desert her. The other half hoped that he wouldn't leave her.

At night, she repeated those same words to him. His eyes were understanding and she felt relief.

Omake 17.5 - 100 words

Hinata softly cursed. Of course her plan to lure the ANBU team away didn't work. Nothing ever worked in her favor.

She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best course of action to save Sasuke. Hinata grinned, seeing the telltale sway of long brown hair.

She deactivated her bloodline and made herself comfortable in her position. She waited.

--

Hinata was ready to confront them and rescue Sasuke at sunrise. But a commotion entirely not her own, brought them out ready to strike. Seeing her opportunity, Hinata revealed herself. Chakra blazed at her hands.

"I'll fight you for him."

Omake 22.5 - 100 words

Sasuke's breathing steadily became regular as she talked about their former village. She continued a little more even though he was already in deep sleep. Hinata glanced over her shoulder to peek at him. Carefully, she turned to fully face him.

Hinata studied him. Memorizing every line from his travels, the eyebags from lack of sleep, the face that she grew accustomed to seeing everyday.

She felt tears drip from her eyes. 'I can't believe I was so foolish.' Hinata hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders gently shook as she tried to maintain composure in Sasuke's sleeping embrace.

Omake 25.5 - 180 words

Frustration bubbled inside her. Karin and Suigetsu, sitting across from each other, continued to argue despite their shared goal. Hinata sat adjacent to them, anger simmering underneath her calm façade.

"Hinata-sama," Juugo came up behind her, carrying a tray of tea. He placed the tray beside her and took his place, sitting behind her.

"Thank you, Juugo-san," Hinata took the lone cup. "Had I known it would be like this, I would've left myself."

"Sometimes, they need a little help." His voice lowered. "If you know what I mean, Hinata-sama."

She hummed thoughtfully and sipped from her cup, testing the temperature.

"This is very good tea, Juugo-san," Hinata placed it back on the tray.

The large man bowed his head, smiling. "Thank you, Hinata-sama."

The other two continued to argue, their thumping rattling the tray.

Hinata moved swiftly, her fingers deftly touching their chakra points.

Stunned, the two bickering teammates fell on the ground.

"What gives?!" Karin yelled. Suigetsu sneered at her from his position.

Hinata calmly retrieved her tea. "Now, I have your attention. Let's talk about rescuing Sasuke."

Omake 27.5 - 100 words

Juugo's birds flew up in a tree, ending their journey.

"Tell Juugo-san, thank you," she whispered.

Hinata felt her blood coursing through her veins. Her fingertips tingled in trepidation.

They couldn't afford to risk Sasuke's strength. She knew who he was up against.

She snuck around the prison, evading the guards surrounding the perimeter. Hinata scaled the prison wall to reach the roof. She quickly found the ventilation shaft.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her thoughts on locating Sasuke's chakra signature.

'There!' It was weak, but it was his. Gritting her teeth, she made her way down the shaft.

Omake 29.5 - 172 words

Hinata knew Sasuke felt the same. The village was too quiet, too accepting of their vagrant ways. It seemed all too convenient a vacant house was available. With the previous owner having died alone, it was an opportune moment for them to move in with the village's blessing.

--

Months soon turned to a year. Sasuke's teammates came and went as they pleased, leaving Hinata with Sasuke.

She found him in the cold, practicing his kata. He moved fluidly going through the motions ingrained in his body.

She didn't want to bother him, but she knew better than to leave without notice.

"I'll be at the market," she called out. He paused mid-form to walk over to her. Seeing him in front of her, Hinata noticed his breaths were visible from the biting cold. "Is your kata keeping you warm?”

He smirked. "Aa." His eyes studied her as he tucked stray hair behind her ear. "Don't take too long."

Hinata felt her face warm up as she looked up to his face. "Aa."

Part 31 - 632 words

She went through the market, politely greeting everyone who knew her. Here, she was Hana and he was Makoto, two people not quite married but living together.

The market was a little busier during this time of year. The village was preparing for their annual snow festival. Hefting her groceries in her arms, Hinata left to return to her home.

"H-Hana-san!"

Hinata turned at the sound of her alias. A young man came up to her out of breathe. "Oh, Shigure-kun! H-How can I help you?"

The young man blushed. "I-I wanted to help you with your groceries. To carry them for you, I mean."

"That's kind of you to do, Shigure-kun," Hinata smiled. "But I'll be alright." She took a step towards the pathway to her home.

"Please, allow me," he reached for one of the bags. "I'm not surprised Makoto-ji-san isn't here to help." The young man scoffed. "He never seems to help you."

Hinata slightly turned from the boy so her groceries were out of reach. "I don't mind. Makoto-san doesn't need to help me."

"Hana-san, I -- " the young man stopped, his eyes frozen in fear.

Hinata looked at him confusedly, before feeling familiar chakra behind her.

"She said beat it, kid," Sasuke growled.

Shigure regained his composure and looked straight at Hinata. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Hana-san, I want to say that I like you and I hope to see you at the winter festival!" He straightened and turned his eyes to Sasuke. "Makoto-ji-san," he said through clenched teeth and bowed his head. "Good day to you."

Hinata looked between the two males, caught in a gridlock.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Sasuke said menacingly. Shigure nodded again and stiffly turned on his heel to leave.

--

A few days later, Hinata found herself at the winter festival, admiring the fresh snow on the plum blossoms and the ice sculptures carved by the village's artisans. Beside her, Sasuke walked with a hand on the small of her back, eyes roving around for the troublesome boy.

"I don't think Shigure-kun will come around, don't you think?" Hinata giggled behind the thick sleeve of her kimono.

Sasuke grumbled. "He won't if he knows what's good for him."

Hinata grabbed a hold of his sleeve. "Come, let's enjoy the festival."

Hinata pulled him around the village, visiting artisan stalls and eating sweets to her heart's delight. Sasuke showed no interest but indulged her whims.

Hinata's teeth started to chatter as they continued with the festivities. She felt Sasuke wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"Come, maybe the weeping plum blossom tree will provide some insulation." He guided her towards the pink flowered tree covered in snow.

"Isn't it beautiful, Sasuke?" she said in awe. She gingerly touched a low hanging branch causing some snow to fall.

"Aa," he answered. "Absolutely beautiful."

Hinata turned to see him gazing intently at her. "Sasuke? Is something wrong?"

Sasuke blinked and turned his head away. He shoved his hands into his kimono sleeves.

Hinata stepped closer to him, using him as a way to shield her eyes from the passing villagers. She activated her Byakugan.

"Sasuke, I don't see anyone tracking us..." Hinata blinked away her bloodline. "I--"

Hinata's arms folded against Sasuke's chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I was going to wait a little while longer," he whispered in her ear. Hinata felt her heart pound at the warmth of breath on her ear.

"Wait for what?"

Sasuke gently pushed her away to place something in her hand. Hinata gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. His fingers came up to wipe them away.

"Marry me, Hinata."

Hinata looked up, seeing a small smile on Sasuke's face.

"Yes," she gently smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. "Yes."

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 7 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: We’re getting there! In this chapter we have hints, friends. Let me know what you think!!

Rated M

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~~~~

Killian’s intention was not to sleep with Emma Swan. His intention was to lift her from the couch, gently and easily as he’s done before, and carry her to bed, leaving her to sleep peacefully. He intended to leave her in his room, tucked in and comfortable, and then sleep in his guestroom, listening for signs of nightmares. 

 He did not intend to sleep beside Emma Swan. When she clung to the collar of his shirt, sleeping as he carried her to bed, he intended to uncurl her fingers, perhaps place a gentle kiss to her forehead, and leave her in the privacy of his bedroom. He did not intend to let her look of sleepy desperation-- of a quiet, hopeless need to be held-- sway him when she pulled him close to her, refusing to let him leave. He did not intend to give in to her so easily, curling up behind her and letting her nestle herself against his front. He didn’t intend for her to fall asleep so effortlessly, and to sleep so soundly through the night as he held her close to him. 

 He didn’t intend for any of this to happen, but when he wakes with the sun and feels her warmth pressed against him, he can’t say he minds. 

 The battle that has plagued him internally since the moment he laid eyes on her rages on with her soft, contented sigh, and he wonders what she must be thinking. He wonders what the few moments of gentle peace before she wakes must be like for her. How it must feel to be tricked so easily into feelings of safety in the arms of another, only to wake and be faced with the painful reality that, to the man who is supposed to love her, she is nothing more than a means to an end. It kills him to not know what the end could be. 

 She stirs, and he knows that the bliss he felt when he first woke is set to fade as reality sets in for her. When she nuzzles her cheek against his bicep, the one attached to his tingling hand, he knows she must still be trapped in a dream, thinking herself cuddling closer to her doting boyfriend. He would give anything for that to be true for her. 

With another gentle sigh, she wiggles a bit, her rear unfortunately enticing to his body despite his mind’s commands. “Good morning,” she says softly, her tone relaxed and, he thinks, almost playful. 

 He can’t help but to laugh just a bit, the sound forced out of his nostrils and blowing a lock of her hair off of her neck. “Good morning to you, too.”

 She hums, making no moves to get up despite the morning sun rising higher in the sky. Their time together is running out; Neal is due to be home today, and if she isn’t home when he arrives, he’s certain there will be hell to pay. 

 “Feels weird,” she remarks suddenly, her voice still quiet but more serious. 

 “What’s that, love?”

 “Being…” she shrugs. “Feeling comfortable, I guess. Safe. Even before all of this, I had to force myself to relax with Neal.”

 “And now?” he asks, his hand inadvertently sliding up the curve of her hip over her soft t-shirt. 

 She’s quiet for a moment before speaking up again. “It’s easy,” she sighs. “I know my life is going to shit, but I’ve never… I’ve never felt this relaxed.”

 He should’ve stopped himself from pressing a soft but firm kiss to the back of her neck, but he couldn’t if he tried. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he tries, but she shakes her head immediately. “No? Not even a happy childhood memory?”

 She stays quiet for far too long, hinting to him that he’s said the wrong thing. He barely knows her; he certainly doesn’t know enough to make assumptions about her childhood. She confirms this when she finally murmurs, “I’m not sure you know who you’re talking to.” Her tone is light, as if she’s trying to make a joke of it, but he can hear the pain laced through her words.

 “Perhaps I don’t,” he challenges boldly, voice strong and almost too powerful in the soft morning silence. “But I’d love to hear more about your beginnings.”

 Her stillness makes the blood sing through his veins, hot and painful in response to his anxiety, until she rolls over onto her other side, sliding away from him just enough so that she can look into his eyes. “You really mean that,” she says. It isn’t a question, more like a clarification. A statement used to prove the thought to herself in her own mind. He nods, wanting to drop his hand onto her cheek but holding back. 

 “Of course.”

 She closes her eyes, shying away from him, hiding the shining beams of light from his gaze for a moment before she opens them again and gives him a small smile. “I’m an orphan,” she whispers. Her wording takes him by surprise. She’s an adult, he overheard Neal telling Peter that she’s 25, but she still considers herself an orphan even now. “My parents… I don’t know. They abandoned me. I don’t know who they are. I spent years trying to find them and I never did.”

 “So you…” He sighs, biting his lip without meaning to mirror her. His hand is twitching at his side to touch her, to reach out and comfort her. “You spent some time in foster care, then?”

 “Care,” she scoffs. “I guess you can say that. I ran away a lot.”

 “Aye,” he nods. “If not for Liam, I’m sure I would’ve as well.”

 She looks at him so pleadingly, so deeply, her brows drawn tight together and her forest green eyes glowing in the light of the rising sun. “You were in foster care, too?”

 “I was,” he whispers. This time, he can’t stop himself from letting his fingers slide along the soft skin of her temple, brushing her hair away. He feels her relaxing into his touch, leaning into his hand and letting her eyes slip shut. “For a brief time, before Liam found our father. He was here with Gold; died shortly after we found him, but Liam had turned 18 so we stuck around with the club.” 

 Her eyes snap open, something he’d said alerting her senses. “You’ve been with them for a while then?”

 “About fifteen years now,” he confirms. 

 “So do you… I mean, they cared for you. You must have some kind of loyalty to them.”

 “No,” he answers immediately. “Fifteen years is a long time. Long enough for me to see the violent corruption that Peter and Neal seem to thrive on. They learned it from Gold, they tried to teach it to me, but Liam taught me the importance of good form.”

 Her movements are quick, and he can barely keep up as she scoots close to him and drops her head so that it’s resting against his chest, just below his chin. He doesn’t think before wrapping both arms around her, securing his hold on her and burying his head in her hair. It smells fruity and floral, and he doesn’t think he’ll get enough. 

 “I always thought I was good at reading people, with the exception of Neal,” she says, laughing softly. “And with you… I mean… I trust you, Killian.” 

 The relief that washes over him is nearly unbelievable, his desire to be here for her, to help her, too consuming. The confirmation that she trusts him steadies his heartbeat, calms his mind, soothes his soul. 

 “Emma,” he breathes, and at the sound of his voice, she pulls back and meets his eyes with her. “I promise I’ll get you out of this. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 “I know,” she whispers. Her words wash warm air over his mouth and remind him just how close they are. He considers closing the gap between them when he sees her eyes fluttering, desperate to make her feel the same intensity that he feels. He craves the softness of her skin against his. He wants her. He thinks he may need her. Her eyes close and he watches her lips fall open just the slightest amount, her breathing evening out at the anticipation of his lips meeting hers. 

 But reality creeps back into the forefront of his mind, the danger that she’s in sure to increase if they should ever be found out. The half-confirmation that perhaps she wants him in the same way that he wants her is almost enough to hold him over. He’ll never put his own desires ahead of her safety, and he needs her to know that. 

 So he places his palm on her cheek and runs his thumb along the soft skin under her eye, thinking back to last night when her cheeks were tear and sweat stained after hours of emotional torment. “He’ll be back soon,” he finally whispers, and the way her face falls pains him. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure why. 

 She opens her eyes and meets his gaze, seeming to understand as she takes a breath and nods. “Don’t be,” she smiles. “Thank you.”

 “For what?” he asks, unable to fathom what she could possibly be thanking him for. All he did was tell her of his past and nearly kiss her despite her being in a relationship. 

 “Everything,” she answers easily. “I’d be broken if you hadn’t come out and gotten me last night.”

 “I’ll always be here for you,” he vows, his palm cupping her cheek without having the excuse of moving her hair out of the way. 

 “I’m scared,” she whispers. Her voice is weak and small, barely audible over the sounds coming in from the open window. “When he gets home, he’s gonna want… I don’t want to…”

 “Emma,” he breathes, shaking his head. He’s horrified that they even need to have this conversation, but at the same time, he isn’t surprised. Growing up beside Cassidy, only a few years older than him, he knows how he was raised. The man has expectations of her, and that was made clear to Killian the other day when he dropped everything and barely had her hesitant consent before dragging her back to his bed. It’s wrong for him to have to offer her a way out of sleeping with him. She should be able to say no, she’s not in the mood, and that should be enough. But he knows that isn’t the case; he knows what will happen if she refuses. “Perhaps if you say you’re sick,” he finally offers.

 “Yeah,” she agrees, then smiles genuinely at him and says, “I mean, I did throw up last night. I guess I’m not totally lying.”

 “Aye,” he grins, although it feels wrong to do so. “You’ll be alright. I’m not sure why, but for better or for worse, Neal needs you for something. He won’t harm you.”

 She sighs and drops her head back onto his chest, the weight of it comforting with each rise and fall of his lungs. “I wish I knew why,” she says softly into his shirt. “I mean, I'm nothing special. Why would he want me, of all people, to be here?” 

 A twinge of anger sparks within him again at her words, at her genuine belief that she’s nothing special. It reaffirms for him that she’s grown up all her life alone, believing that no one could possibly want her. That she couldn’t possibly mean anything to anyone. That the only person she thinks she means something to is an abusive, manipulative monster. It can’t be true, he wants to tell her. It isn’t true. He wants to assure her that, despite hardly knowing her, she means the world to him. But the last thing he wants to do is to scare her off, the prospect of helping her out of this with her comfort and autonomy in tact too important to pass up. He can’t put his own feelings above her. 

 “I wish you didn’t think like that,” he finally says, letting his hand find the back of her hair again. “You are special. You just don’t deserve whatever it is he has planned for you. You deserve to be happy and safe.” 

 When she shakes her head again, he vows silently, daring not to scare her with his sincerity, that he’ll spend every day for the rest of his life proving to her that she means something. 

 ~~~~

 Emma finds herself being very meticulous about her position in the apartment in preparation for Neal’s return. Killian’s suggestion that she fake an ailment was a good one, but now she has to make it believable enough to turn him off. 

 She has whiplash from the last few weeks, but from the last day especially. She can hardly believe that she’s in this position in the first place, the fact that she’s found herself suddenly thrown into the role of a gang member’s girlfriend utterly fantastical. A part of her still thinks this is a dream, and if she pinches herself hard enough, she’ll wake up in the arms of her loving boyfriend once again. 

 Truthfully, she can’t believe that she never noticed. The fact that he was able to trick her so believably, that he got around her firm defenses and her lie detector well enough to sneak into her life, is almost too painful to consider. How could he manipulate her so easily? Is she really that weak? It’s easier to rely on the belief that this is a horrible nightmare and that she’ll soon wake up and her life will go back to normal. It’s not like her life was anything special before, but at least she was living in blissful ignorance to the horrors she now faces. 

 Neal is not the man she thought he was, that much is definitive by now. Finding out that he’s the brother of the leader of The Lost Boys was a blow so detrimental to her that she almost broke. If Killian wasn’t there to pick up the pieces and glue her back together, she’s certain that she would still be a crumbling mess on the hallway floor. 

 The helpfulness of his presence is something that she will never be able to put into words. The fact that he was there for her when she needed him, when she needed to be held together and soothed and cared for, the fact that he knew just what she needed in that moment, is something she can never hope to repay. 

 She feels silly thinking like this, when just the other day she was promising herself that she would try harder with Neal. It’s as if the second she found out about his nefarious intentions, she forgot about him. The way she feels when she’s with Killian makes her fear the way she felt when she was with Neal. Everytime she and Neal were together, she had to force herself to relax, to calm down enough to enjoy his presence. She told herself that it was normal for her to feel that way, that the way she was raised predisposed her to feelings of discomfort in the presence of others. But when she curled up in Killian’s arms last night, it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like there was nowhere else she was meant to be. Like being with him is exactly where she needed to be in that moment. Now, thinking back to the way it felt to be held by him, she wants nothing more than to be back in his arms. 

 The anxious nausea returns when she hears his keys jamming into the lock, turning it slowly as the sickening anticipation increases. She takes a deep breath, settling herself into the couch and easily putting on her best sick face as he pushes the door open. She’s met with a wide, leering smile that makes her stomach churn more. 

 “Hey, baby,” he calls as he shuts the door, dropping his bag to the floor in a way that makes her wonder if he expects her to unpack it. It’s as if her sudden realization of his true intentions was a bucket of cold water being thrown over her head, and now she can see him for who he truly is. Each of his actions are selfish, his expectations of her entirely misogynistic and manipulative. 

 “Hi,” she says with a purposely weakened smile, her voice small. “Good trip?” 

 “Pretty good,” he confirms, walking towards the kitchen and retrieving a beer despite it being before noon. “We’ll probably have to go out again soon, but I'll stick around for a while.” 

 “That’s good,” she agrees, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders and nestling into the couch cushions. Despite her stress, she found that she slept better than ever last night, so it’s more work than she expected to pull off a look of exhaustion. “What do you do when you go?” she asks, hoping to get a bit of information out of him. 

 “Oh, this and that. Nothing you need to worry about.” She fights off the temptation to roll her eyes as he sits on the couch, narrowly missing her feet and seeming not to notice. “What are you doing?” 

 She shrugs. “I don't feel that good,” she explains. “I’ve been nauseous since last night.” 

 “You have?” he asks, his interest seeming to be piqued.

 “Yeah,” she nods weakly, shutting her eyes. “I even threw up last night.” 

 “Gross,” he says immediately, and her mind runs back to the image of Killian holding her hair for her. He cocks his head to the side in thought and says, “Huh.” 

 “What?” 

 “Nothing,” he shakes his head, taking another draw from his can. “Just interesting, that’s all.” 

 She laughs, the sound likely not entirely believable. “Interesting or gross?”  

 Neal turns to her, his eyes suddenly dark and hooded, his grip on his can obviously tightening. He shifts in his seat, turning his body so that his shirt rides up slightly, exposing the handle of his gun to her line of sight. “Does it matter?” 

 “No,” she replies quietly, her eyes meeting his in undeniable terror. She doesn’t have to work at making her voice sound small and timid; it happens naturally. “Sorry,” she says without thinking. 

 She notices that, in the time that he was gone, she felt a sense of strength. Having Killian reiterate to her that what she’s experiencing isn’t normal, isn’t acceptable, has put her in the mindset that she’s strong enough to get out of this. But with a single motion, a few short words, she's back under Neal’s thumb with no chance of escape. 

 “Great,” he smiles, his demeanor shifting back as he leans back into the couch. “We’re going out tonight. The Rabbit Hole.”

 She wants to argue, to remind him that she just told him she isn’t feeling well, but she fears his response and simply nods. “Okay,” she says softly, feeling like less than nothing to him. It isn’t the fact that she doesn’t feel well, because that’s not entirely true. Her nausea is a result of her stress. What bothers her is his willingness to ignore her claims. His ability to forget so easily. 

 She means nothing to him. 

 ~~~~

 The Rabbit Hole is busier than usual, and it occurs to Killian that Peter didn’t bother to enforce it’s closure this evening. The realization makes him wonder about the last time, the night that Emma was brought here and victimized for the first time. It makes him wonder about the disconnect in Peter’s mind that made him want to celebrate such an event. 

 Tonight, he sees several familiar faces. There’s Scarlett, who was drunk and tried to steal Rufio’s bike one night, earning himself an entirely unwanted role in the club working off his crime. There’s also Tink, Olivia, who got herself into a lifestyle in which she’s never been truly comfortable out of sheer desperation and poverty. There’s William Smee, who boasts an ability to allocate anything the club desires, if only to keep him safe from their rivals. 

 The bar is filled with people who are here because they have to be, having little choice in the matter. Each of them agreed to be here, agreed to Peter’s terms, but none of them have any way out. 

 There’s a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind, pulling him into a hug, and he knows exactly who it is without having to turn. A smile creeps across his mouth when she squeezes more firmly and then spins his chair, turning him to face her and giving him a bright smile. 

 “Evening, love,” he mumbles softly, giving her a gentle smile. 

 “Evening, KJ,” she returns. Elsa moves beside him and takes the stool to his left, holding up a hand to signal to the bartender that she’s ready to order. “Having a good night?”

 “Sure,” he shrugs, turning back to his drink. 

 With a snort, she shakes her head and shoves her shoulder against his. “What’s wrong?”

 “What makes you think something’s wrong?” 

 “You’re brooding. More ferociously than usual.”

 “I don’t brood,” he grumbles into his rum, taking a drag from it. 

 “Yeah,” she scoffs, “and I’m a natural blonde. Is this about your girlfriend?”

 He turns suddenly, staring her down and raising a brow. “I don’t have a bloody girlfriend.” 

 “Mhmm,” she hums sweetly. “A winter sangria, please,” she orders, and Killian rolls his eyes. 

 “It’s still summer, El.”

 “I know what I like. Now, talk to me. Emma’s been staring at you all night.”

 “No she hasn’t,” he argues into his glass. At least, he hopes she hasn’t. It wouldn’t be safe for her to be staring… 

 “Killian, please.”

 “She’s--” he starts in a moment of boldness, wanting to retreat almost immediately as he realizes where he is. He leans a bit closer to Elsa and practically whispers, “I think she’s in danger.”

 “Killian, they’re keeping her safe! As Neal’s girlfriend--”

 “She’s in danger from Neal. She had no idea… Elsa, she found out last night that he’s Peter's brother. She thought he was some lackey until Gold told her otherwise.”

 “Why would that mean she’s in danger?” she asks, accepting her drink before shifting back to her serious demeanor. 

 “Why would he lie? What could he want from her that he doesn’t think he could get if he were truthful?”

 “KJ…”

 “He told her they would leave. He said he would move them to Florida to live happily ever after. You know that’s not what that bastard has planned.”

 “Watch your tongue. Are you sure you’re not just looking for another reason to hate him like you do everyone?”

 “Who said I hate him?” 

 She lets out a groan, dramatically throwing her head back before taking a sip of her drink and then glaring at him. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but you’ve got to cut it out. For better or worse, Emma is Neal’s, and you know that he’ll make sure you know that. Him and his brother. They’re in charge; they keep us safe, and all we owe in return is our loyalty.” 

 She’s right, of course, although perhaps not in the way she means. They are mad enough to go to extremes for arguably unwarranted reasons. If Liam diplomatically disagreeing with them was cause enough for his death in their eyes, he doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if they found out about him and Emma. 

 Not that there’s anything going on between them, of course. Despite his feelings for her, he isn’t daft enough to think that they’re being reciprocated. She simply needed comfort and he was available and willing to give it. She needs someone to care for her, someone who understands her and what she’s going through, and when all of this is over and she’s away from this abuse, she can move on like none of this ever happened. It’ll be like they never met, and if that’s what’s best for her, then so be it. 

 Still, the fact that she slept in his bed, in his arms, just last night is dangerous. If that information were to reach the wrong set of ears, he knows it’ll mean bad news for Emma. 

 “Alright,” he finally grumbles. Although he trusts Elsa, knows that she wouldn’t do anything that would mean trouble for him, he suddenly gets the feeling that she doesn’t understand what he’s going through afterall. Her phrasing is startling, and he’s starting to realize that it’s not the first time she’s spoken like this. She doesn’t know the extent of what happened to Liam, but she’s aligned to the club very faithfully. He was certain that their shared experience, their shared loss, would mean her unconditional empathy, but he can see now that that isn’t necessarily the case. 

 He fears that he-- and as a result, Emma-- may be more alone than he originally thought.

~~~~

~~~~

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[fi0r3]

Just A Black Coffee

Warning(s) ⇾ profanity, 

Pairing ⇾ kuroo x gn!reader

Genre ⇾ fluff and some angst, college au,  mini-series

WC ⇾ 3.1k

Summary ⇾ You just got out of a toxic relationship and now you need a new place to stay. Your friend just so happens to know someone who’s looking for a roommate who can help out with the rent for the apartment.

AN: @luv4sakusa​ wanted to be included in my story so bad so I put her in 😒

j.a.b.c master list || next chapter

Ch. 1: New Encounters 

It was two in the morning, you and your boyfriend were in a heated argument. You had just caught him cheating on you, but he was trying to deny it. “Why won’t you just fucking admit it!” Your throat was hurting from screaming so much. “I saw you on the couch with her and you dare to tell me that it was nothing!” Truth be told, you had known for a while now that something was going on, but you were in denial. You didn’t want to believe that your boyfriend of five years would do something like that. Yet here you are right now, confronting him. “Omg, you’re overreacting. I was just--” you cut him off “YOU WHAT? HUH? YOU TRIPPED AND YOUR TONGUE ACCIDENTALLY SLIPPED INTO HER MOUTH?” You didn’t want to start crying, yet your body said otherwise. He stared at you in silence before you stomped off to the bedroom. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” “Isn't it obvious? I’m packing my shit and breaking up with you.” You were shoving your things into your suitcase not bothering to fold any of your clothes. He scoffs, “Really? Where are you gonna go then?” “Anywhere without you seems good.” You had no clue where to go, all you knew was that you didn’t want to be near Daisho for another second. 

You zipped up your suitcase and pushed past him. He forcefully grabbed your arm causing you to turn around. “You can’t just leave me y/n,” he says almost menacingly. “I think I fucking can when I have a pretty valid reason.” You yanked your arm away from him and walked out of the apartment leaving him alone with the girl. As soon as you were out, you felt a sense of relief, but that soon went away as you realized that those five years you spent together were nothing. And your heart starts to ache even more the further you walk away. 

_______________________________________________

You were sat on a park bench, the autumn winds nipping at your nose. You looked at your phone and the time read 2:31 am. ‘I shouldn’t have left while it was this cold’ You go to your contacts and call your best friend Abby. “Y/n?” she says in a raspy voice. “What’s wrong, why are you up right now?” You sigh before telling her everything that happened. 

“So, yea I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a bit.” “Bitch of course you can! Fuck Daisho, his bitch-ass doesn’t deserve you.” You chuckle at her string of curses. “I’ll be over soon.” “Okayyy be safe.” 

You were thankful for having a friend like Abby. You stood up from the bench and made your way over to her apartment. You needed to start finding a place for yourself soon because you didn’t want to mooch off of your friend for too long. You knew she wouldn’t mind having you stay, but you didn’t want to be too much of a burden because she lived in a pretty small space. You got on the bus that led to her address and looked up some websites for apartment listings to pass the time.

_______________________________________________

By the time you arrived at her place, it was already 3 am. You knocked on her door waiting for her to come and open it. You wait there for a few minutes before the door slowly cracks open. “Hey hun,” she says with her eyes partially open. She invites you in and leads you to the living room to set your things down. 

“You can put your suitcase over here and there are some toiletries in the closet if you need them.” “Thanks, Abby, you’re the best.” “Of course,  you know I’d do anything for you.” “Yea I know.” “So how ya holdin’ up?” You stared at her in silence for a moment trying to recollect your thoughts. You thought you had cried it all out while you sat in the park earlier, so you were surprised when you felt tears streaming down your face. 

You didn’t want to cry over this anymore, but your emotions got the better of you. You held your head in your hands and kept sobbing, unable to stop the emotions from pouring out. Abby came over to your side and hugged you. She didn’t say anything. She just let you cry it out until you were able to compose yourself. Deep down she always had a bad feeling about Daisho ever since the day you announced you two were dating. She just didn’t want to say anything because you were so happy. To her, it felt like she was overstepping her boundaries. 

“Ok, I think I’ve cried about this enough for today.” “Well shit, I thought I was gonna have to hear you cry until class started.” You chuckled. “Oh shut up.” “I think it’s time we both go to bed, otherwise we’ll pass out from sleep deprivation in class.” She gets up and brings you some pillows and blankets. She bids you goodnight before going back to her room. You were glad she went back to her room because you didn’t want her to see you crying still. You felt bad that you called her so late so you told her to go to bed. You spent that night crying until you finally fell asleep.  

_______________________________________________

You woke up at 7 am, eyes still sore from all the crying you did. You felt so drained, but you had to get up and get ready for your classes. Getting up from the couch, you fold the blankets and place them neatly to the side. You open your suitcase and take out your clothes and some toiletries before heading off to the bathroom. 

You saw your reflection in the mirror and were startled at the image before you. Eyes all red and puffy and hair all tangled and sticking up. ‘Yikes,’ you thought. You quickly detangle your hair and wait for the shower to heat up. 

When you get out, you quickly dry yourself off and change into a fresh pair of clothes. After getting dressed and drying your hair, you met Abby at the kitchen for breakfast. 

“You gonna be okay going to school?” she questions while grabbing two plates, placing one in front of you. You take a seat at the counter and fix yourself some of the food she prepared. “I’m not gonna let this whole break up ruin my studies alright. I just have to hold myself together during the day and break down when I get home,” you say with a strained smile. She rolls her eyes at your remark and takes the seat next to you.

“I swear if I see him I’m gonna--” you interrupt, “You’re going to walk away and not cause any drama.” She looks at you with an unamused face. “I’m serious, I don’t want any drama. I said what I said and I have no reason to talk to him anymore.” She turns back to her food before responding. “Okay fine.” You shake your head as you see the look of disappointment on her face. “I’ll be fine, promise.” 

You two finished up your food and grabbed your things for school. Both of you rushed to the train station so you wouldn’t be late for class. You were still in anguish over the events that happened, but you were trying your hardest to ignore those feelings so you could focus on your studies. You were anxious about running into him because you felt like you would start crying again if you did. You didn’t want to have a whole breakdown in school. 

You pushed all those thoughts in the back of your head as you reached the front of the school. “I have my club meeting after school so you’re gonna be going home by yourself.” “That’s fine I have my part-time job today.” You bid your goodbyes as the both of you head to your respective classes. 

_______________________________________________

You head to the back of the classroom and take a seat. You didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at the moment. Mainly because you didn’t want anyone to notice how red your eyes were. You had tried to cover it up as best as you could but to no avail. You decided to look for more apartment listings as you wait for the professor to come to class. All the ones you found were either too expensive or looked like they would fall apart the second you walked in. Finally, the professor walks in and begins the class. 

You barely paid attention during the lecture. You were so tired from basically having zero hours of sleep and stressing out over how you were going to find a place to live. You weren’t that close with anyone in your class so you couldn’t even ask them for help. You had zoned out for the majority of the class.  The only thing that you obtained from the lecture was that you had a research paper due in the two weeks that was worth 25% of your grade. 

You feel a buzz from your phone and you look down to see what it was. 

*Message from Abby*

Abby: “Hey y/n, I just wanted to let you know my boyfriend is coming over later to hang, but don’t worry we won’t make you a third wheel :)”

Y/n: “If I walk in on both you being whores, I’ll kick you out of your apartment--”

Abby: “Whatever”

You turn your phone off and try to pay attention to the last ten minutes of the lecture. 

_______________________________________________

School was finally over and you quickly met with Abby to tell her that you might be coming home late because you had to cover for your coworker. “Okay, just remember to be safe, you never know what sketchy ass guy is gonna be around.” “Don’t worry I know how to take care of myself. I didn’t take those self-defense classes for no reason.”  She waves goodbye as she heads over to meet with her club. 

You walked over to the convenience store where you worked that was only a couple of blocks away from your school. You liked taking the night shifts because it was usually the least busy and it meant you could do some homework. That being said, you also had your fair share of creeps and drunks. You had bought pepper spray just in case anything happens. Though you hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it. 

When you arrived, the worker there got up to leave so you could take over. You didn’t have much to do. Your main tasks consisted of restocking shelves, mopping the floors, and managing the register. When it was just you in the store it kind of felt peaceful. Sometimes you’d just observe the people who walk by and other times you’d be lost in thought. However this time, you wanted to be away from your thoughts. You tried to put on some music to drown out your thoughts. For a while, it was working until you saw your ex walking hand in hand with the girl he cheated on you with. You were enraged at the sight. How could he move on so easily, while you were still stuck on it? Were you overreacting? Were you the only one who cared about the relationship? All these negative thoughts started to flood in. You were brought back to reality when you heard the bell from the door ring, signaling that a customer was there. You quickly brush off those thoughts and greet the customer. The last hour and a half went into cleaning the floors and doing a little bit of homework.  

By the time you finished your shift, the sun had completely disappeared. Although you were confident in your self-defense skills, you would still be nervous about walking home alone. You made sure that you had your pepper spray with you before locking up. You quickly shoot Abby a text saying that you were done with work and were on your way to the apartment. 

_______________________________________________

 Upon your arrival home, you were greeted by a very loud and energetic guy, who you assumed to be Abby’s boyfriend. You were caught off guard by his liveliness, especially since it was pretty late. “Y/n, this is Bokuto, my boyfriend.” “Bo, this my friend that I was talking to you about.” You exchanged hellos before you went to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Y/n I just solved all your problems,” your best friend announces to you as you exit the bathroom. “Uh how exactly?” you question with one eyebrow raised. “Bo, tell her” she nudges her boyfriend. You sat down next to them on the couch waiting for his response. “So, Abby told me how you’re looking for a place and I happen to know someone who’s looking for a roommate to share the rent.” Your eyes lit up immediately. “Omg really?!” you ask in excitement. “Yup, I can--” you interrupt “I’ll take it.” Both of them were startled by your immediate acceptance. 

“Damn y/n, you hate me that much.” You roll your eyes at her remark. “You know that’s not the reason why I wanna leave.” You turn back to Bokuto to ask who this person is just to make sure it wasn’t some sketchy weirdo. “He’s a friend of mine from high school, he goes to the same college as us. He’s a marketing major.” “Okay, he seems fine.” “Yea, I’ll tell him that you’re interested, and I can set up a time for you guys to get acquainted.” You were kind of excited to meet your potential new roommate. You just hoped that he wasn’t going to be an asshole like your ex. “Thanks so much, Bokuto.” “No problem y/n” he flashes a friendly smile. 

After a few hours of hanging out with each other, Bokuto had to go. Before leaving he gave you the address of the apartment, Kuroo’s contact information, and his own. He said he would tell you when Kuroo would be able to meet with you. “Aren’t you glad to have such an amazing friend like me?” she asks smugly. “Uhh if I’m not mistaken it was Bokuto who knows Kuroo not you.” you tease. “Okay, but who was the one who introduced you to him? Me exactly.” The both of you started laughing. “Ok, but seriously thank you for doing this. I’ll treat you to ramen sometime.” “You better.” 

_______________________________________________

A week has passed since that day, and Bokuto finally texted you saying that Kuroo was able to meet. You were waiting in anticipation. You were hoping that he didn’t already find someone else during that week of waiting. A wave of relief washed over you when you received Bokuto’s message with the details for the meeting. “So when are you seeing him?” she asks from the kitchen. “Today at 4.” You had about an hour to get ready. “Are you nervous?” “Yes and no,” you respond. “I just hope he doesn’t reject me,” you say while trying to pick out an outfit. “Bo said that he’d be fine with anyone as long as they’re able to pay the other half.” “Do you know anything about him?” you inquire hoping to get a little more information before meeting him. “The only thing Bo has told me is that they’ve known each other since high school and were rival teams for volleyball. Other than that, I’m as clueless as you.” You give her a slight nod. 

You finally picked out your outfit and went to go change. “Does this look okay?” She turns around to see what you had on. “Yea you look great.” You go back into the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror one more time. “ARE YOU SURE?” you yell. “YES STOP WORRYING, YOU LOOK FINE!” she yells back. You leave the bathroom to grab your bag and head to the cafe. “Wish me luck,” you sigh. “Relax, it’s not a life or death situation,” she jokes. You wave goodbye and head over to the cafe, hoping that you wouldn’t arrive late.

_______________________________________________

You walk into the cafe scanning the area to see if he was there. You didn’t even know what he looked like so there was no point in trying to look. You feel a buzz from your pocket. You take your phone out to see a message from Kuroo.

Kuroo Tetsurō: “By the window.”

You look up to see a guy with spiky hair sitting by the window looking at you. You could feel his gaze piercing through you. Your heart started to race. You walked over hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous you were. “Hey gorgeous,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your name?” His forwardness caught you off guard. “Uh I’m y/n,” you say as you took the seat across from him. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks. “A black coffee is fine.” He gets up to order the drinks. As he gets up, you catch yourself admiring his looks but you quickly brush it off, especially when he’s going to be your future roommate. Besides you just got out of a relationship. Just as you brushed it off, he comes back with the drinks. 

“So why do you wanna be my roommate?” he asks you and you reply with “I just really need a place to live right now, I promise I’ll be a good roommate, and make sure to give the payments on time.” “Whoa whoa whoa there, I just asked for a reason not a whole life story,” he says in a teasing manner. You sit there, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart.” Little did he know that it made you feel even more flustered. “Uhmm it’s fine,” you reply. Trying to ease the conversation from what just happened, you say in a cocky manner, “So do you want me or not?” Causing a chuckle to escape his lips. 

“This is going to be interesting.”

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

39. Cuddle me in

Prompt used- Leaning on the others side| fluff | tired and stuck because of a mission, harry and draco comes across their past revelations |

" so I contacted the team and they won't be able to find us a back up team until morning. They said everything is mess there, apparently robard is high on some shit so. Anywho, we'll have to find ourselves a place to stay for the night " draco told harry as he chucked his wallet into his back pocket and wand over his belt loop.

Harry swished his wand, drying both of them up before tucking away his wand too " and how are we supposed to find a place in his barren place ?" He aggrieved

" well not my first choice either harry, we've got to walk until we find something " draco commanded as he started to walk forward slowly.

" why can't we just apparate?" Harry groaned following him

" because for one you dumb idiot, you've already been hurt, which by the way are you sure isn't hurting enough and secondly, where would we disapparate to ? We can't get out of here until we're sure it's safe to leave. Obviously robard wouldn't appreciate of us just escaping " draco rolled his eyes

" one, I'm fine. You've already done the honours of bandaging it with a cloth and secondly didn't you say he's high on some shit, he wouldn't know if we disapparated to some place better" harry groaned.

Impatiently draco turned around, halting his steps, exhaling exhaustingly " look I'm just as tired as you are. I too want to just go home and take some damn fucking rest but we can't apparate mainly because they keep a trace on us. They'd know we escaped this place. So please just do me a favour and silently walk with me without throwing another fit "

" whatever " harry rolled his eyes and walked past draco.

Draco cursed harry under his breath, being absolutely done with his bratty behaviour but nonetheless followed him.

They must've walked for almost 25 minutes when they finally found a bus stop.

" we can take a bus to the next more settled place ? What say ? According to the map here, the nearest would be river town" harry read from the map.

" sounds fine to me. When does the bus arrives?" Draco asked as he sat down on the lonely bench on a boring dark night.

" it's 9:15 right now according to my watch, so the bus would come around by 9:45 " harry sighed as he collapsed down next to draco.

" that bloody long " draco huffed.

" well we did miss a bus from 10 minutes ago so "

" if we could've just reached here on damn time " draco groaned, his head thudding back over the back of the bus stop wall.

" doesn't do good to dwell upon what's gone" harry said as he too pushed his head against the wall on his back

Draco hummed staring up at the ceiling, enjoying the momentary silence.

" can I ask you something ?" Harry asked after a few minutes of silence to cut the boredom. Draco had almost shut off his eyes when he lowly sighed, humming for him to go on.

"why did you had to be such a prat back in school ? Like there's nothing wrong with you anymore, you're nice, people like you, but you just bullied the hell out of people earlier! Did you enjoy doing that ?" Harry asked curiously gazing at Draco on his side.

Hearing the question, draco uplifted his head turning to harry" by people you meant you ?"

" me, my friends. Gryffindor's " harry frowned in approval.

" well I didn't bully gryffindor's as much as I bullied you and your friends. I never did it a lot quite frankly but I understand where it's coming from. However I do wish I had a better answer than I was just a stupid kid " draco shrugged

" stupid kid till you were 15 ? Really ? Doesn't seem so! I mean as far as I remember you were really sharp, you still are but still"

" yeah, I was just a stupid kid that's all. Although I did hated your guts, the praise you got for being the chosen one, how everyone just sort of moved away for you to walk upon kind of thing. Which of course was the time I never thought rationally about how it also created some really unrealistic expectations for you. Always thought you had it easy until I heard about you being on the run during the war " draco explained gazing forward with a small wrinkled smile over his face.

" oh yeah, what changed you mind when I was on the run?" Harry grinned curiously.

" I just sort of- I don't know understood a little. A large part of me wanted to just run away which by the way was what I thought back then, I had no idea you were on a mission. Well when were you not quite frankly. Anyways, when the news of you being the undesirable no. 1 Started printing out and how I sat through all the dinners of listening people framing your death, It just occurred to me then that even if I felt you had it all, there were people so aggravated to take all of it away from you. Think I was always a bit jealous until now I'm just jealous of how great friends you have " draco ended with a small smile turning his head towards him only for a moment before pressing his head back against the wall.

" see I always knew you weren't that bad " harry jokingly poked draco sides.

" it tickles, don't " draco chuckled

" if you would've been this nice during the first year, I would've shook your hands " harry said as he leaned a little over draco's side in a friendly manner.

Draco smiled at harry. It was in moments like these that draco remebered that harry isn't the person he always thought he was, it was then when he realised that harry was infact just like him, just a bit different and that maybe, he could allow himself to like him, if a little bit.

" mine is understandable, why were you a jerk ?" Draco asked

" because you were a jerk. You just always had to prove you were better and it just always made me want to put you out. Stupid rivalry " harry smiled, resting his eyes out of exhaustion.

Restless draco too shut his eyes for a few moments when without thinking and without looking he asks " do you think, If things had been right, if we weren't such assholes, you'd want to be friends with me ?"

Harry remained silent for seconds, that draco had almost assumed he had fallen asleep until harry continued " it's hard to imagine that way. You being you, me being me. We would've been terrible friend's but even if we wanted to, I think we would've hit a rough patch where we would've had to go separate ways and I don't think either of us would be able to handle that "

" and why is that ?"

" because what we would've been would not had been ordinary " harry yawned as he allowed himself to lean over draco comfortably, taking draco by surprise but didn't try to push harry away whatsoever.

" we're extraordinary then ?" Draco asked smirking, tilting his head a Little towards harry.

" not we, you " harry yawned again before draco heard his breath fading to sleep. And he didn't try to wake him up again, out of sheer embarassment of blushing at Harry's compliment or out of shock, draco didn't know, he didn't even wanted to.

When the bus finally arrived, Draco only woke harry for a couple of minutes until the got on the bus and occupied the last seats and then allowed harry to sleep again. Frowning to himself, draco realised he didn't feel the weight over his shoulder. He turned his head to see Harry's head over the sleeping person besides them. Unsatisfied, quietly and gently draco made harry lean over him. If draco had only known, harry had smiled in victory at the small gesture.

It took them almost another half and hour to finally reach a motel to stay in, much to their disadvantage Only a single bed.

" come on we're adults, we can share, can't we ?" Harry asked still a bit sleepy from before.

" I mean- i-if that's what you want. I could sleep on the- well- chair " draco stuttered, blushing. Thank goodness for the dark red room.

" nonsense. Just take a side and we'll just collapse" harry sighed.

After much contemplation, they finally decided to share the bed, draco taking the left side while harry got stuck with the right. Tired from the mission and travel, draco had almost falled asleep when he heard hustling on other side of the bed.

" whats up you kicky ?" Draco hummed

"I- nothing" harry sighed but didn't stop hustling.

" what is it ? " Draco asked again, turning towards harry now.

Harry looked at him, pondering over and over whether he should tell or not, until he decided, not much worse could happen so " I need an extra pillow "

" are you sure ? Your neck would probably hurt-"

" it's not for that" harry sighed " you see, I always hug a pillow to sleep, it's embarrassing I know, but I just can't sleep without it " he added.

Draco from 10 Years would've chortled to death but now, he fondly smiled at harry before he sat upright and called the reception for an extra pillow.

" thank you "

" what happened ?"

" yeah- they don't have it. Something about laundry " draco replied, putting off the phone away.

" nevermind then " harry sighed as he turned his back to draco and tried to sleep again.

Draco felt almost thumped by the way harry felt, until he couldn't believe he suggested something so outrageous " we could cuddle for a while. I mean I am a cuddly sleeper so won't be a problem to me. Unless it's awkward for you "

Harry turned around grinning before nodding, kiddishly. Moments later, harry and draco had finally tucked under the sheets, close enough when harry put his arm around the front of draco's and asked " would you do something for me ?"

Draco hummed.

" remind me to seize my moment tomorrow morning before it's too late " harry replied

Draco smiled knowingly " I will "

And then just before sleeping harry whispered " you're shit at lying by the way "

Draco smiled in his half Awaken state, knowing he got caught but for once, it didn't matter. For once, lying was worth it..

Requests open

Unedited

Day 38- set it up, break it up | Day 40- just keep swimming

[go-dark-turtle]

I will always protect you babe. 

(An Aged up Don Girono x fem reader fanfiction) 

[A while ago @ungaloslovebite took part in the raffle I had going and she won yay~ I apologise this took so long to get around to doing. But here it is. So let's all pretend our name is Ellie. Onwards to the fan fiction.]

2011 was the year you wouldn't ever forget. A young 25 year old Girono was patrolling the streets with his faithful companion Mista. You worked in a convenience shop, part time. You were minding your own business arranging the magazine stand when a group of men came in the shop. 

"Oi lil missy, where is the boss? We need to have a few words with him." The small chubby man rubbed his nails against his chest "Tell him Mr Rob is 'ere would ya doll?" 

"Excuse me but my manager isn't here right now. Is there anything I can help with?" You asked politely knowing it could be trouble. 

"Hey! Don't speak to my boss like that. No answering him back. Go and gets your boss now otherwise..." The tall lanky man beside Mr Rob looked down at you and pulled out his baseball bat. 

He smirked and aimed full swing at the postcard rack behind you, postcards flew everywhere and the rack itself broke into several parts. You screamed and shivered. 

"I'm telling you he stepped out for lunch and he didn't tell me where he was going to be." Your hands trembled. 

Mista and Girono arrived on the spot seeing the damage and you shaking in fear. He marched up to Mr Rob and smacked him into the corner as if the air itself flung him there. 

"You have no right being here, you know this is my turf, you should be ashamed of yourself. A gang of men ganging up on a defenceless woman. If I ever see you around here again I'll make sure NONE of you will live to tell the tale." The young blonde crouched next to Mr Rob and held his face. 

"Of course, you didn't see us, Mr Girono. We, we, were just leaving..." Mr Rob scrambled away but slipped on a postcard. 

"Mista if you please." Girono smirked 

"With pleasure" Mista grinned "Alright you fuckers you have the count of 3 to get out." 

"Oh shit boss! It's Mista legends say he can fire in the open without a gun. Let's get outta here." The other lanky man spoke up as he pushed his boss and ally out the shop. 

The two young men watched as the group of men fled the scene and Girono took your hands in his. 

"I am so sorry about that. Please come with us, don't worry about your boss, we will leave a message for him. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you." Girono spoke with a soft voice

You gasped when you realised who stood before you "Aren't you the Don Girono? Oh my god..." 

"Relax, please I just want to make sure you aren't hurt and to look after you in case those guys come back later. We wish you no harm, miss..." Girono flashed a small smile. 

"My name is Ellie, I appreciate your concern but you scared them off." You looked into his green eyes. 

"They will wait until we leave and come back and cause more trouble so please come with me." He smiled softly. 

A few years later..

After that encounter you and Girono grew closer and got married, you left your job and officially became Mrs Don Girono. everywhere you went with him you felt like a queen everyone was super friendly and you loved every moment of it until..

The present day...

"Listen Ellie I know you don't want me to go but Mr Rob is back and causing more trouble. Please understand I'll be back before you know it. look after the hideout for me babe." He held you in his arms and kissed your forehead. 

"Girono.. but what if you get killed. Please can't you send the police there instead." You looked up to him with teary eyes. 

"The police won't go near him, he owns them. Listen to me, I'll be fine I promise. Just stay here and don't open the door to anyone. I have my key. lock the door behind you." Girono pulled you in for one last hug. 

You clenched your eyes shut as the tears ran down your face and held him tightly petting your head. Kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

"I gotta go. Don't worry I'll be okay." Girono smiled as he waved from the gate and Mista waved from the van. 

You stood by the doorway, you had mixed feelings one the one hand you were happy he could take care of himself but on the other you feared he would get himself hurt or worse dead. 

The hours turned into days as you sat in wait and you couldn't eat or sleep much from the worrying. You clenched your hand to your chest and paced up and down the kitchen. You slammed your hands down on the kitchen counter and burst into tears. 

"Miss Ellie!" Mista shouted from outside "Open the door and help me with Girono!"

You looked outside and sat Mista with the backdoor of the van wide open with a very badly injured Girono. 

"Girono!" You ran out the door down the small garden path.

"Hey hey it's alright he just got a few bumps and scrapes but he's okay." Mista smiled down at you while holding up Girono's upper body. "You don't mind grabbing his legs do you?" 

You wiped the tears from your eyes and gripped his ankles tightly as you began to reverse onto the garden path and into the house. You and Mista gently plopped the injured blonde down. 

"Look I've got some stuff to take care of, I'll call later let me know how he is then. Sorry to leave you like this with no answers." Mista looked down and felt bad he had to leave. 

"Mista please, what happened?" You looked up to him, tears flooding out. 

"All I can say is we sorted Mr Rob and his lil gang for good. Don't worry we worked for the police on this occasion. I just gotta go and give my story for both myself and Girono and in return we have the police on our side. Just do one thing for me Ellie, please look after Girono. He will need a lot of kisses and cuddles to make him feel better." Mista nodded and took his leave. 

The room fell quiet and you stroked his soft blonde hair and he opened his eyes and softly grunted in pain. 

"Ah, I was hoping you wouldn't see me like this." He sighed "You were right but we did go about this in the most peaceful way I could. Don't think what you said didn't hit home, babe." 

"You silly goose, you got injured but I'm just glad you are safe at home with me. Mista told me briefly what had happened. I'm just grateful you are here." You gently rested your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

"Ellie... I'm sorry I made you worry, but I did promise I would be okay... well okay-ish." He lightly giggled and gently sat up grunting. 

"Ah here let me take off your shirt and let's see what happened" You held his arms as he sat up.

You gently slid off his shirt and saw the scars and bruises all over his back arms and stomach. Your eyes widened and Girono held your arms and smiled gently. 

"These will heal and in fact there is a little something you can do for me, my love." He requested gently. 

"Of course Girono what can I do?" You held his hands in a heartbeat and kissed them gently. 

He blushed and smiled softly once more "Could you give me a belly rub to make me feel better." 

You nodded and kissed his forehead "Of course my love." 

You gently placed your warm hands on his belly, softly rubbing circles around, he hummed softly and you smiled resting your head on his arm. He closed his eyes and loved that your warm soft hands were making him feel much better. 

"Thank you, I love you so much Ellie." Girono softly whispered in your ear. 

THE END. 

[rwby-necro-au-archive]

Death does not do you and I part completely.

Summer has a special meeting with someone in particular.

Tick tick tick

The clocks second hand went, ticking by, counting each excruciating second that he sat in that goddamn chair.

How long had he even been sitting here? Hours? Days? Weeks? It felt like he hadn’t left his office.

Could you blame him though? It was only a few months ago that the terrifying head councilman of Vale had him pinned to a wall with an iron grip around his neck, choking out every last little bit of lifesaving air he needed in order to live.

He was too scared to leave the council building. So he stayed in his office, that now seemingly small and empty office, the one with gunmetal grey walls, giant crystal clear windows, and carpet more expensive than the man himself sitting in his equally expensive chair.

Ironwood felt like he was losing his mind. Between the constant childish insults of the anons, his inability to track a location on them, and the fact that there was a chance that the people he saw around Ozpin were those only he could see, he wanted to just close his eyes for a few days.

Sleep doesn’t come for the weary though, and he had work to do. Paperwork. Of course it’s paperwork, as if his eyes weren’t already failing him with the lack of sleep.

He sighed and began his work.

Summer floated gracefully through the building, passing by countless who she couldn’t care less about, she only had 1 person in mind.

The man himself, the man who shot her in cold blood. God, how long had it been? She had been 28 when it happened, Ozpin was only 5 years into his position as councilman.

8 years at least is what it had to have been.

8 years for Summer to finally level herself out to have this conversation.

She knew he didn’t deserve patience, but she also knew that screaming at the man wouldn’t do her any good either.

Finally, after what seemed like a short eternity, she arrived at the door. A silver plate screwed into the door stated “Ironwood” in cursive.

She fazed through the door, looking around the office before seeing the person she was looking for.

And there he was, bags under his eyes, working as always, he didn’t look a day over 25. Unsurprising considering he was revived by her.

She stood and waited silently for him to notice her presence.

Ironwood continued to slave away at the busywork, getting irritated with each passing second at the fact that he had to do this while so torturously tired. He noticed that someone was now in the room with him, but paid them no mind.

“Pursuer. Get out. I am not in mood for whatever you have to say.” He spoke through gritted teeth, irritated at the insistent presence.

Summer tilted her head “I never liked how you spoke to your subordinates. Especially your younger ones.” she spoke in a gentle tone.

Ironwood froze. Rapid fire thoughts shot through his mind all at once, all telling him there’s no way the voice he was hearing was correct.

He slowly looked up, horror splashing across his features once he had done so.

In front of him stood a desaturated, dead looking and glowing version of Summer Rose. Glowing white sclera’s without Iris’s or pupils looked back at him, and an all too familiar white glowing scar graced the center of the woman’s forehead. She wore the same white cloak she had worn before, along with the same black turtleneck and floor length skirt.

Summer laughed gently “What’s wrong general? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-you’re supposed to be dead.”

“I am dead. You killed me, don’t you remember that silly?”

Ironwood sat there dumbfounded, fearful, and confused. She was dead, how was she here?

“What do you want with me?!” Ironwood demanded.

“Just to chat. I wanted to see how you’re doing after all this time. I’ve checked in with my family and friends, why wouldn’t I check in with you? Although….” She tapped a desaturated red finger to her chin.

“Although….?” He spoke nervously.

“Although….I’ve seen you around…”

“Y-you have?”

“Yes…..I saw every meeting you had with Ozzy, everytime you visited him and beacon, everytime he met you in Atlas. How sad that he had to put up with your poor treatment for that long. I’m surprised he didn’t snap sooner! Ozzy was never the kind of man to be patient like that.”

Ironwood gulped nervously. He was showing more of his fear than he’d like to, but at this point he didn’t care. “Really….?” Was Said barely about a whisper.

Summer crossed her arms and scolded the man in front of her like a child, “Mhm….and I saw you threaten my daughter. Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“What are you trying to get at?”

Summer simply looked at him, silence the only thing coming from her.

“What are you getting at?!” He demanded.

She continued to stay silent, staring at him.

Ironwood slammed his hands down on the desk and gritted “Why. The hell. Are you here. To taunt me?! Make fun of me like a child?!”

Summer sighed and shook her head, refusing to speak still.

“TALK TO ME GODDAMNIT”

SMASH!

Ceramic echoed through the office as it hit the wall. Being thrown hard by ironwood in the direction of Summer.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. Don’t you know that?” She said quietly.

Ironwood gripped his head in his hands “SHUT UP!”

Summer kept her quiet tone, “I wouldn’t yell so loud. Your subordinates might hear you—“

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT THEY HEAR.”

“You seem to be the only thing I can rely on, did you know that?”

Ironwood’s gaze shot up to look at the woman, “what?”

“I can rely on you because you never change. You haven’t changed since the day I met you James. Perhaps that isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“The fuck are you talking about?!”

“It’s why Ozpin is happy.”

“Huh?”

“Ozpin is happy because Ozpin knows how to change. He’s a tree that knows how to bend in the wind, a house that’s built to stand the tests and changes of the tide. He knows when change is needed. And although there have been many changes in his life, he appreciates them all.”

Ironwood didn’t have anything to say. He sat in his expensive chair, gripping his head in his hands, staring at the women in awe.

Summer looked sorrowfully at the man in front of her, “you, do not want to change though. A tree that doesn’t bend in the wind is a tree that will snap in half, and if there’s nobody to hear that snap and see it fall, but to only see it’s aftermath, was it ever a tree to begin with?”

“You and Ozpin will be written into history books for years to come. Ozpin will be seen as a man who despite everything being ripped from him as a child, pushed through to see the light in the world and help those less fortunate than himself. He will be seen as a hero. And you, will be seen as a man who got everything he wanted, and yet still took more from those who could never get what he took back. You will be seen as a Villain. A monster.”

Ironwood took his hands off his head and gripped his desk “No. I won’t. Atlas will write me into the history books as a hero. You’re wrong.”

“What good is a title of hero if it only serves to cover the misery that one man has caused? A false hero, is no hero at all. Humanity will always find the truth, it is in our very nature to do so.” Summer spoke.

“You’re wrong. I’ll prove you wrong. Referring back to your tree metaphor, I won’t snap in half.” Ironwood clutched the desk further, gritting his teeth.

“You will. In fact, it’s already started. There are many who will seek to be rid of you.”

“I already know about how the necromancers feel about me.”

“I’m not talking about the necromancers.”

“What?” Ironwood questioned.

Summer gave him a pitiful look and shook her head.

“ANSWER ME.” He screamed as he slammed his hands down on the desk.

Summer continued to stare sorrowfully at the man in front of her. Questioning if this was truly the man she feared so much beforehand.

He slammed his hands down on his desk again, harder, putting a crack in it “FUCKING ANSWER ME.”

She continued to stay quiet, as he continued to scream, eventually throwing things at her. None of which hitting her but rather phasing through her.

Summer turned her back to him before speaking barely above a whisper “you truly never change, James.” Before disappearing.

Ironwood stood there silently, contemplating what happened. Before he could calm down, his door was cracked open slightly.

“Sir, Are you alright?” Violet asked quietly.

“GET. OUT.” He screamed at her, slamming another fist down on his desk, putting a bigger crack in it.

She flinched before quickly closing the door and running down the hall.

Ironwood collapsed back into his expensive chair and put his head into his hands.

He sat there thinking for a while, tired, exhausted, and confused. He couldn’t even fathom what he just experienced.

Soon, he whispered something so quiet, only he, in his office, that now seemingly small and empty office, the one with gunmetal grey walls that were now dented from the objects he’d thrown, the one with crystal clear windows, and carpet more expensive than the man himself was.

“I’m losing my mind.”

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Metro’s Crush [26]

Chapter 25

Trigger warning: Homophobia

03.11.2020 03:27

He knows.

He knows.

He knows.

Robbe can’t get it out of his head. As soon as he saw the message, his blood ran cold, his heart started beating so fast, he thought it would burst out of his rib cage. He tried calling him, texting him, for hours but didn’t have any luck.

He didn’t need to have the full message to understand what Sander meant, he knew, he realized and he couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on with him, what happened, for him to completely disappear the whole day and then only sent him that and disappear again.

He has read Sander’s diary, letters and he knew and had an idea about how his dad would react but deep down, he was hoping things weren’t as bad as he thought they were, even if they were way worse than he’d ever imagine, but clock turned ten, eleven, twelve, not getting any response back was telling him that his hope was useless and stupid.

When he got back home after talking to Lucas, he called Jens, trying to get his mind off of thoughts that were eating him alive, like he promised to his friend.

Jens picked up his phone but it seemed like he wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he also wasn’t alone, so Robbe just said that he’d talk to him later, maybe tomorrow.

He wanted to stay up as late as he possibly could, in case Sander would contact him, but after the clock hit three am, he just dropped on the bed, exhausted, drifting off to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, his phone on the highest volume, by his ear, fully charged.

He was terrified of what Sander has been going through all this time that he was away from Robbe’s reach, alone, with his homophobic parents, with his fake personality and mask he had to put on every time he opened his house’s door.

All Robbe wanted was to have him in his arms, away from everything bad, keeping him safe, never letting go.

But Robbe was also alone, without any idea when he’d see Sander again, when he’d be able touch him again. And it was killing him, not being able to do anything, being useless, pathetic.

He couldn’t help it. He had a quiet dinner with his mom, she asked what was wrong a few times, obviously sensing that something happened but Robbe kept looking down at his food, mumbling “nothing” as a response and after a while his mom dropped the topic.

Robbe felt bad but he also didn’t know what happened, he was left in the dark, what was he suppose to say?

He couldn’t do anything but wait and even if he was a very patient person in general, the whole thing was affecting him horribly.

His sleep was interrupted when he heard a loud barging, his head shot up, looking around his empty room.

After a while he thought he imagined it and was about to put his head down on the bed, when he heard that sound again, which made him quickly get up and as soon as he opened the door, he saw his mom was also going to the hallway.

“What’s going on?” He asked but she only shrugged her shoulders, a scared expression on her face, which wasn’t surprising since nobody comes that late if something bad didn’t happen.

She opened the door and revealed the boy, who was knocking on the door.

Robbe thought that he stopped breathing for a while, feeling stuck in his own body but he recovered when he gently pushed his mom away and went up to him as soon as he saw him, standing there.

The first thing Robbe noticed was his very red and puffy eyes, and just under his eyes, on his right side of the face, a very red handprint, sitting there like a shame mark.

“I - I didn’t know where else to - g-go.” Sander mumbled, looking down on the floor, guilty.

Robbe didn’t waste any time, he pulled him close, held his arm and brought him inside, pulling him next to his body, with his right arm around his waist.

His mind going blank, didn’t know what to feel or think. The only thing he knew was that his boy was here and he needed him.

Robbe desperately wanted to hold him and hug him tightly but he remembered that his mom was still standing there. He needed to take care of that first.

Robbe closed the door, and looked at his mom.

“This is Sander, he will stay with us tonight.” He said as a matter of fact, not asking a question.

The tone he used made his mom realize, that the situation was very serious, and after a while she nodded her head.

Robbe tightened his grip.

“Should I make something? Does he need anything?” She asked softly, watching the boy her son was holding so close, who wasn’t meeting any of their eyes, looking down like a little kid who got into the trouble for eating too much chocolate.

“Just you.” Sander whispered so quietly that only Robbe could hear.

You’re the only thing that I need.

“No, we won’t be needing anything.” Robbe said and then turned to Sander, made him looking at him and asked calmly. “Hey, can you go to my room?”

Robbe saw how Sander mind started racing and how panicked his eyes got.

“I will be there in a second. I promise, okay?” He persuaded him and the boy nodded, walking towards the room at the end of a hallway.

When Sander was out of the room, Robbe turned to his mom. “I love him and I have to take care of him.” He almost sounded like he was pleading, hoping that she would understand and he sighed, relived when she weakly smiled and nodded his head.

“Is he going to be okay?” She didn’t ask any further questions than that, didn’t ask what happened, (which Robbe also didn’t know but he could only guess that nothing good happened) and Robbe was very grateful and thankful for that.

“I don’t know.” He said at last and she kissed his cheek and went to her room, without saying anything else.

Robbe signed, mentally getting ready for what he didn’t even know and he walked up to his door, gently opening it to see Sander sitting on the edge of his bed, and that’s when he first saw that Sander had a bag with him, which was now lying on the floor.

He looked up as soon as the door opened with his bloodshot and tearing eyes.

Robbe walked up to his slowly, slightly afraid of the boy’s reaction.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, not sure what to do until Sander would give him a permission to come closer and that’s exactly what he did when the boy nodded his head.

He made him get up and embraced him, whispering “you have no idea how worried I was” all over again and again in his ear, he felt the boy tightening his grip, burring his head in Robbe’s neck, whimpering quietly.

And when the boy started trembling in his arms, that’s when Robbe decided to lay both of them down on the bed. He helped Sander taking his jacket and shoes off, offered him his clothes so he could be comfortable but the boy only shook his head, declined, numb.

Robbe put him under the covers, turning off the lights and turning on a little lamp beside his bed, putting his arms around Sander and pulling him as close to his body as possible, looking at his face.

They stayed like that, both of them being silent, staring at each other’s faces.

Robbe was trying his best to calm his anger and nerves down, gently rubbing the red finger prints on his cheek with his hand, while his other hand was tightly holding Sander’s own.

“Do you want to talk to me?” He asked, only caring about what Sander wanted, and if he was comfortable, even if Robbe was extremely curious of what happened and wanted to know the reason why Sander was in the state he was, he decided not to push him.

But Robbe himself, had some ideas about what must have happened.

Sander stayed silent for a long time, maybe even thirty minutes.

And Robbe almost forgot about his question when he started talking, his voice shaking, his eyes running wild all over the room and Robbe’s face.

“W-when we were at the skate park.” He started, and Robbe only hold his hand tighter, as if saying “I’m here, I’m listening” which must have done the trick since Sander gulped and continued.

“I - one time - I - I kissed you there and - my dad’s coworker saw and - he - he told him and - “ Robbe closed his eyes, about so say that Sander didn’t have to say it but the way sander started talking so fast, didn’t even leave any chance for Robbe to stop him.

“You should have seen him. He called me, told me that I wouldn’t put my foot out of the house before he’d come back from work. My mom wasn’t there. And then he got there - started screaming how I embarrassed him and how I - ruined everything and how I’ve always been such a failure and I can’t do anything right and he - he’s embarrassed to have a son like me and - fuck - “ tears started falling down from his eyes and Robbe had to do everything to not look away, couldn’t bear seeing him in so much pain, wanting to take every single one of them from his heart, pushing every negative thing and thought out of his head.

“How I always disappoint him and how I’m disgusting and - he asked me if it was the truth and I got angry and - “ He stopped talking, took a big breath and as Robbe was about to stop him, he added “no, let me finish, I need to get it out or else I will explode” and Robbe nodded, shutting his mouth, giving him as much time as he needed.

“I said - everything I was thinking - he - he called me a - fuck - “ Robbe winced, knowing exactly what Saner must have meant.

“I was supposed to meet you - I didn’t want to leave you like that - and I managed to sent a quick text - I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you - he saw and snatched the phone from my hands and he went on about how you ruined me and it was my last straw and fuck - it wasn’t pretty - and that’s when he - he finally - he - did - “ Robbe shifted his eyes on the mark again, on his cheek with a fresh fingerprint still looking as red as it possibly looked right after Sander got it, his eyes also getting blurry. “I feel like he always wanted to - hurt me - I’m sure - he didn’t have that big of a reason for it before and now he used his chance - I tried to get my phone back but he just said stuff about how I needed fixing and how he would make sure that I’d getting fixed and just pushed me inside my room and then I heard it got looked and I was stuck - and I knew I need to escape, I needed to get out, I packed some stuff and - ran - jumped from the window - “

“You’re staying away from that faggot who made you gay, even if I have to look you up” Sander could hear his father’s voice, ringing inside his head, knowing him talking about Robbe like that was the thing that made him explode and work up. He has been dealing with everything that man threw at him for years but his father couldn’t touch the only pure thing in Sander’s life and Sander would make sure of that.

Robbe didn’t know what to say.

What there was even to say, he couldn’t say “it’s okay” “everything will be fine” “I’m sure you will work things out” “he will come around” so instead he said “I can’t promise that the bad days will go away forever, but I can promise that I will be there with you and I’m not going anywhere okay? I’m so glad you came to me and don’t believe any word he said, he knows nothing about you. You’re not a disappointment, or a failure. You’re golden, you’re Sander, okay? You’re my Sander. You’re nothing but good, inside and out. Don’t even forget or doubt that. And know that I will always be there to remind you of how amazing you are. You’re my whole world.”

His voice cracked in the end, he pulled him against his chest, holding him close, kissing his forehead, putting his chin on top of his head while Sander put his own on his shoulder.

Sander didn’t say anything back, nor did Robbe expected him too, but Sander also didn’t argue with him, so Robbe took that as a progress and a win.

They stayed like this for a while until Robbe barely heard Sander whispering: “I’m falling in frustration.”

“Fuck the frustration, okay?” Robbe said and saw how Sander weakly smiled back at him.

“I’m so happy you’re here with me.”

“I can’t stay here.” Sander mumbled, already knowing what Robbe would say but he was stubborn and he knew no matter what Robbe wouldn’t manage to change his mind about that.

“Yes, you can and you will. If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere, sorry to ruin your plans but you’re very wrong.”

How could he even say something like this Robbe couldn’t explain.

As if he’d let him go out of his sight again, specially after this.

“Robbe, I can’t. I will stay just tonight, I can’t just - “ Sander tried again but Robbe shushed him up.

“Shh, now. We will talk about this later.”

He whispered and pulled him even closer as if it was possible by the way their bodies were entwined together.

* * *

“Robbe.”

“Hm.”

“You’re my angel.”

“No, Sander. It’s you who is a angel, you have always been an angel. My sweet boy. My metro’s crush.”Both of them laughed at Robbe’s last words and Robbe realized how things could always get better, no matter how hard that seemed right no.

He was sure, they would, maybe not today, but someday they would definitely get better.

Robbe felt Sander kissing his neck, tickling his skin with his soft hair and Robbe smiled, drifting off to sleep while feeling a soft breath on his chest. The time between Sander’s inhales getting longer and longer as the time passed and he completely calmed down.

The sun came up, and the boys were still together, glued to one another, their bodies fitting together like they were the lost pieces of the puzzle and now they finally found each other.

Both of them knew, that whatever they had going on, would last forever and they couldn’t be happier about that.

Chapter 27.1

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 25

Hi all, things are happening in this chapter!! I’m very excited for y’all to read it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do 😄

(Filet ‘O Feesh): Just letting you know I’m going out with some of the team for drinks

(Filet ‘O Feesh): I won’t be back until late so don’t wait up for me

(You): Alright have fun :Smiley Emoji:

Why are you staying up for him? He said he won’t be back until late, you’re obsessed.

Leo sighed and purposefully clicked on a YouTube video welcoming the sound of music flowing through his earbuds.

I’m not waiting up for Him, I’m up late searching for music so I don’t get dropped by Madam Maxine, he thought to himself squirming back into the crease of the couch and moving on to another song. Leo had been flipping through song after song for hours desperately looking for one that felt right for his program, unfortunately though it felt like he had listened to every single piece of music on the internet but nothing had caught his attention yet.

Leo let himself get lost in the music, barely noticing the sun sinking in the sky leaving the room cast in darkness, only the light of his laptop and the moonlight streaming through the window illuminating the living room. Sighing again he clicked on yet another piece of music, his ears ached slightly from wearing his headphones for so long.

He was so completely absorbed in the ebb and flow of countless melodies Leo nearly jumped out of his skin when suddenly a loud bang filtered through the music. The living room was washed in bright blinding light as someone flicked on the switch, Leo pulled out his headphones and looked over at the front door curiously. He was shocked to see a man he didn’t recognize stumble into the entryway, he was tall, surprisingly enough he almost looked even taller than Leo himself. The man had an arm wrapped around the limp form of another person Leo couldn't quite make out, he was practically dragging them into the apartment. As he watched the tall man struggle under the weight of whoever they were carrying, Leo caught a flash of bright auburn hair; he was shocked to realize it was Finn.

“Oh my god! What happened?” he asked, jumping up from the couch and making his way over to the entryway.

“Leo?” Finn asked looking up groggily, his face was flushed from alcohol but seemed to light up the moment his eyes caught hold of Leo, his lips broke into a wide smile that made his eyes squint.

“Peanut Butter Cup!” he cried out, struggling out of the tall man's grasp and flinging himself into Leo’s arms.

He couldn’t help the little oof at the impact of Finn’s body crashing into him completely lax as Leo easily wrapped him up in his arms holding him close and secure. Finn sighed happily and pressed his face into the crook of Leo's neck mumbling something unintelligible, evidently he was completely content to be held in his arms.

“You Leo?” the man asked, voice heavy and thick with a Russian accent, “Harz talk about you, new roommate, new friend?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Leo said, chuckling a bit at the way Finn’s fluffy hair was tickling his neck as he pressed in further wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

The tall man laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement at Finn's inebriated state, “Harz is cuddle drunk, he drink too much tonight. Normal not drink much, now drink too much.”

“I see that,” Leo grinned at that way Finn was still mumbling against his shoulder.

“Hey Kuns, you get Harz in there ok?” another voice came from out in the hall a moment before another man came into view. He wasn’t quite as tall but he had a large muscular build and a long jagged scar running down the side of his face. “Oh, hi. I assume you’re Leo?” he said stepping into the apartment with the rest of them and holding his hand out in greeting, “I’m Jackson, but you can call me Nado if you want, this is Kuny,” he nodded at the taller man next to him.

Leo shifted Finn’s weight so that he was holding him up with one arm and took Nado’s hand, “Nice to meet you guys, I take it you’re both on the Lions?”

“Yeah, this lush dragged us out after the game then proceeded to get pissed out of his mind. Not that I really blame him, Fishy here had a bit of a rough go of it tonight.”

Leo blinked in surprise at Nado’s words, “What do you mean?”

He watched as Nado and Kuny exchanged a meaningful look, an entire conversation happening in the silence.

“You know I think we’ll let him tell you himself when he’s a bit more coherent,” Jackson finally answered. “Anyway, it’s getting late so you mind if we leave him in your hands?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Leo answered without hesitation, “thanks for getting him home.”

Nado and Kuny bid them goodnight and made a quick exit, the front door falling shut with a click behind them.

“Alright, come on you,” Leo said with a chuckle, tightening his arms around Finn who was still cuddled into his side mumbling nonsense against his neck, “let’s get you to bed ok?” Leo held Finn's limp form close, dragging him towards his room. It was a bit of a task detangling Finn's arms from around his body but eventually Leo was able to get him to fall back onto his bed, he let out a huff at the impact against the pillows before beginning to giggle uncontrollably.

Leo chuckled at the sight as he moved to pull off his shoes that were sticky with spilled drinks, Finn’s laughter eventually died down and turned into a groan as he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“Le?” he croaked out as Leo pulled a blanket up over him, “I don’t feel good.”

He huffed a sympathetic laugh and sat at the edge of the bed a little smile tugging at his lips at the sight of Finn, Leo couldn’t seem to stop himself from reaching out and pushing some of that fluffy auburn hair off his flushed face.

“That's cause you’re drunk, Sugar. Try to sleep it off, ok?”

Leo stood to leave but he was stopped by Finn's hand grabbing his wrist, and when he looked down at the man he found chocolate eyes swimming in tears, “Why doesn’t he love me, Le? Why does he always run away from me? Why…” Finn suddenly sat up and moved to the edge of his bed where he had stopped Leo from walking away, “I just want… I want him to love me back. I just want someone to love me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leo sighed, his heart breaking at the sadness and the loneliness pouring out of the man in front of him.

Finn reached out and wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist tugging him forward and pressing his face into the soft part of Leo’s stomach mumbling over and over, “Why doesn’t he love me?”

“Finn,” Leo whispered trying to get his attention but Finn simply held him tighter, “hey, look at me.” Leo cupped a hand against Finn's jaw and gently tilted his head back, big brown eyes blinked up at him through eyelashes dark with tears. “Finn, you are so loved.”

Finn squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head as if to say no I’m not.

“Sweetheart, how do you not see that? I can hear you when you’re on the phone with your parents, with your brother, they love you. And your team, those guys become your family and I know they love you too. And Logan,” Leo paused and watched as Finn opened his eyes and stared up at him, “I think Logan loves you more than he even has words to express.”

“Then…” Finn took a shaky breath, “then why does he keep running away from me?”

Leo felt his heart break, he gently threaded his fingers into Finn's soft hair comfortingly, “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he answered sadly. “But, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably because he’s scared. Finn, falling in love with your best friend is terrifying, and I know you know that.” Leo carefully wiped away the tear tracks of Finn's face, he let his fingertips trail down to brush against the red shadow of stubble that had begun covering his jaw. “Unfortunately, not everybody can be as brave as you are.”

“I said something horrible to him today,” Finn said with a sniffle pressing his face back against Leo’s stomach. “I called him a coward,” he whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt.

Leo thought for a moment a little surprised by the revelation, “I don’t know what made you say that Fish, and I’m not saying it's ok,” he combed his fingers soothingly through soft auburn hair, “but if I know you at all I know you didn’t say it just to be hurtful.”

“Leo? What about you?” Finn asked in a small voice, face still buried against his stomach.

“What about me?” Leo asked, genuinely a bit confused about what Finn was asking.

Finn pulled away and looked up at Leo with those big brown eyes of his, still glistening with tears and hazy from alcohol, “Do you love me?”

Leo bit back the urge to say yes right then and there. His heart ached to tell Finn, but now wasn’t the right time, when he was lost in alcohol and sadness. Instead all Leo could do was smile down at him softly, he brushed away a bit of fluffy hair from Finn’s forehead and leaned down to press a chaste kiss there.

“I care about you Finn,” he whispered, “I care about you a lot, but we should leave it at that for tonight, sweetheart. If that’s a question you still want answered in the morning, we can talk about it then, Ok?”

Finn nodded, seeming to accept Leo’s answer. His whole body swayed and his eyes began to flutter shut, Leo grinned thinking that if it weren't for the arms still locked around his waist Finn probably would have just fallen backwards onto his bed.

“Le, ‘m’sleepy,” he said, the words slurring worse than before as he leaned forward and pressed his face into Leo’s hip, evidently content to fall asleep sitting up and just letting Leo hold his weight.

“Alright, bedtime now,” Leo huffed a soft laugh and began to unwrap Finn's arms from his waist. However it seemed that he had vastly underestimated Finn's lucidity as suddenly he tightened his arms and bodily hauled Leo down onto the bed, or more accurately onto himself. Leo gasped in surprise, finding that he was now straddling Finn's torso, as the man between his thighs had simply fallen backwards and taken Leo with him.

“Oh, come on Fish, you gotta let me go, I thought you wanted to sleep?” Leo laughed trying to pull himself off.

“No, don’t leave,” Finn whined, “please.”

Leo shook his head and sighed exasperatedly, “Alright, fine. I’ll stay, but you have to let go so I can lay down because I’m not gonna sit here straddling you all night.”

Finn giggled a little at that but loosened his arms letting Leo slide off of him and settle onto his back. Almost instantly Finn curled back into his side, pressing his face into the hollow of Leo’s throat and sighing happily content in the warm embrace.

“You really are a cuddly drunk,” Leo huffed a laugh but threaded his fingers through Finn's soft hair combing through the silky strands over and over soothingly. “You happy now?” he asked, voice low and gentle, smiling softly when the only response he got was a quiet snore.

***

Leo’s whole body felt warm and tingly as he slowly rose to the surface of consciousness. Finn was a comforting weight in his arms, on his chest, his entire body covering Leo’s like the human version of a weighted blanket. At some point in the night he had shifted, snuggling closer and closer until he was laying more on Leo than the mattress, tangling their legs together under the sheets, and pressing every inch of their bodies together seeking the comfort of Leo’s warmth, the beat of his heart.

Finn still had his face tucked into his neck making that soft hair of his fluff up into Leo’s face and his lips press softly against the tendons there with each breath. Leo breathed in, pulling oxygen deep into his lungs trying to help wake up his brain, he chuckled though, soft and sleepy when a few auburn strands got caught in his mouth.

Currently, Leo had his arms wrapped around Finn one hand had snaked up the back of his shirt to press into the firm muscle of his shoulder while his other hand was splayed against the dip of his lower back holding him close and secure in their sleep. Leo tightened his arms and relished in the happy little sigh Finn breathed into his neck. He let his hands slide down that soft skin carefully, not wanting to wake the man in his arms.

Leo didn't want to move, he never wanted this soft quiet moment with Finn pressed so very close to him to end. Unfortunately though, it had to. Only the night before Finn had been crying for the love of another, and as much as his heart begged him to stay there cherishing in the warmth, Leo couldn’t bear the thought of just being the stand in for someone else.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing a tender kiss into auburn bedhead. Leo breathed him in for just a moment more before gently rolling Finn onto his side so he could slip out of bed without disturbing his sleep.

Stumbling groggily from Finn’s room Leo yawned hugely, reaching up towards the ceiling and stretching out his long limbs, feeling various joints crack and pop as he did. Their apartment was quiet, filled with golden morning light as he wandered into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He snagged a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cool water before heading back towards Finn’s room, stopping for just a moment to grab some Aspirin out of the medicine cabinet on the way.

Leo couldn't hold back the soft chuckle at the sight he found, Finn had pulled a pillow into his chest and curled his entire body around it until he was in a tight ball in the middle of his bed. He had kicked the sheets and blankets down until they were just covering his feet. Leo carefully set the water and pills on his bedside table then before he could think better of it he reached out and bushed the back of his fingers against Finn’s cheek feeling the scratch of stubble there.

Stop it, Leo’s hand flinched back retreating from Finn’s soft sleeping face, you know if you wanted to torture yourself there are easier methods. Why are you still hoping for something? He very clearly is in love with Logan.

Leo squeezed his eyes shut trying to silence the thoughts, he let out a wistful sigh and turned away from Finn still sleeping peacefully in his bed. Wandering over to his own room Leo pulled on some fresh clothes before padding back into the kitchen in his socks. His stomach grumbled as he opened the fridge to peer into its contents.

What exactly were you supposed to cook for the man you like when he had just told you he was in love with someone else? Someone that you also happen to like? Leo asked himself, finally just rolling his eyes in exasperation and began pulling out a variety of ingredients with quiet “Fuck it, we’re doing omelets.”

As he was beginning on the prep work Leo heard the sound of the shower turning on. He chuckled under his breath knowing Finn had probably rolled out of bed and immediately stumbled into the shower wanting to wash off the lingering reminders of his night out drinking. Leo sighed as he reached out and flicked on the burner, placing down strips of bacon once the pan had gotten hot and watching them crackle and pop in the heat. The kitchen steadily filled with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and cooking bacon making Leo’s stomach grumble again.

Just as he was pulling the last strip of bacon out of the pan Leo heard the soft pad of Finn’s footfalls coming closer, making their way towards the kitchen. Towards Leo. Breathing in deep, he felt tension tight in his shoulders, finally he sighed and turned to find Finn himself standing at the opening of their kitchen. Leo fought the urge to gasp audibly at the sight of him, it seemed Finn had opted to forgo a shirt leaving his dark, damp hair to drip onto his bare shoulders. He was clad in just a pair of simple loose jeans that hung low on his narrow waist.

Leo felt his stomach do that swoopy squirmy thing, as he watched a water droplet drip from Finn’s hair and slide down his strong pale chest, his eyes following it as it slid down his toned stomach until it soaked into the waistband of his jeans. Suddenly realizing he was basically ogling his roommate, Leo snapped his eyes back up to Finn’s face only to find a somewhat teasing smirk there. That smirk turned a bit softer, into an almost sheepish smile at the blush that rose high in Leo’s cheeks.

“Morning Fish,” he said, finally breaking the quiet sanctuary that had settled over their apartment in the golden sunlight, “how’s that hangover treating you?”

Finn chuckled and let his gaze fall to the floor somewhat bashfully, “Not as bad as I thought it would, I’ve definitely had worse” he replied reaching up to rub the back of his neck anxiously. “Thank you by the way, for the Aspirin. That was thoughtful.”

“Hmm,” Leo hummed, not sure what to say to Finn’s earnest tone, “no problem.” He glanced away tuning to flick off the stove, out of the corner of his eye Leo could see Finn moving closer, stopping when he was just barely an arms length away.

“So…” Finn started, maybe a bit nervously, “I think I recall you promising me we could have a conversation this morning?”

Leo ‘s eyes shot back up to Finn’s, not having expected him to even remember their conversation from the night before let alone want to actually continue it. All he found in those soft brown eyes was open honesty as Finn patiently waited for Leo’s answer.

“You remember that?”

Finn swallowed and nodded, “I remember everything from last night, I guess I wasn’t too far gone after all. You don’t have to say it,” Finn said alluding to his question from the night before, “I know it’s probably way too soon for that. But… when you say you care for me, do you- do you mean that?”

Leo bit his lip taking in the way Finn had his hip cocked against the counter he had snagged a piece of plastic wrapper off the counter and was twisting it in his hands nervously but his eyes remained on Leo, waiting.

“Yeah, I do mean it,” Leo finally answered, trying his best to push away his own lingering anxiety that seemed to course through his system, “I like you, Finn.”

Finn let out a huffed exhale, “I- I don’t really know what to do with that information,” he said softly, taking a little step forward bringing them closer.

“You can do anything you want with it, Sugar,” Leo replied, inching a bit closer to Finn himself.

“Can- can I do this?” he asked, taking the last step separating them before leaning up to press a soft kiss to Leo’s lips.

Leo sighed into the kiss as his eyes fluttered closed, feeling every bit of tension melt out of his body at the gentle slide of Finn's lips on his own. It was slow, questioning, as if Finn was asking that same question with his lips as he did with his voice. Leo pressed in, deepening their kiss and hoping desperately that Finn would understand his answer; hoping that in the slide of his tongue, in the bite of his teeth, in every gasp that fell from their lips Finn would understand how much Leo wanted him.

Standing there in their kitchen the two of them slowly deprived themselves of oxygen long enough that they had to finally pull away from each other. Leo still had his eyes closed, panting to catch his breath, his forehead pressed to Finn’s who was breathing just as hard.

“Yes,” Leo whispered, “sweetheart, god yes,” he panted hotly. He had to make sure that Finn understood, had to make sure his answer was seared into Finn’s very soul. Leo pulled him in by the hips crashing their bodies together and catching his lips again, this time he made it deep, and hot, until a soft little whine caught in Finn’s throat. Leo let his hand slide down into the dip of Finn’s back splaying his fingers wide letting a couple just slip past the waistband of those loose faded jeans. He pulled Finn close, keeping their hip pressed flush together and under his touch, under the press of his fingertips into soft skin, Leo almost felt it as Finn’s nerves vanished.

Leo revelled in the feeling of their bodies moving together as Finn began to give back just as much heat, licking and sucking until he had pulled the very air from Leo’s lungs. Strong arms reached up and wrapped around his shoulders allowing nimble fingers to twist into the curls at the back of his neck, Leo couldn't hold back the groan from low in his chest when those fingers pulled gently.

It had been so long since Leo had felt heat like this, so long since it felt like every atom in his body was screaming to get as close as humanly possible to someone else, to Finn. Honestly, in that moment Leo was sure that if there was even an inch of space between their bodies he would have cried out in agony, cried out at the loss of Finn’s touch, his warmth.

Before he let his brain think better of it Leo reached down and cupped his hands around the backs of Finn’s thighs and hauled him up into his arms. Leo swallowed down the surprised gasp that fell from Finn’s lips at being suddenly picked up, he was quick to relax into it though easily wrapping his legs around Leo’s waist and tightening his grip in his hair.

Setting him down on the counter Leo stayed there pressed between Finn’s knees, loving the little gasps and sighs falling from his lips as he slid a hand up a denim clad thigh. Leo didn’t think he would ever get tired of feeling the shivers running through Finn’s body when he pressed a palm against his toned stomach, when he slid it up his side brushing his fingertips over each ridge of his ribcage.

Sitting up on the counter Finn was now tall enough that Leo had to tilt his head upwards to stay connected, he couldn't help but huff a soft chuckle at that it’s so rare that he has to be the one looking up. The thought was fleeting though, as Finn pulled a gasp out of his lungs, fingers tangled in Leo’s hair, his palm cupping the back of his neck.

“You know,” Finn panted when they separated for a moment to catch their breath, he kept his legs wrapped around Leo’s waist holding him close, “you are deceptively strong.” He hummed low in his throat and caught his lower lip between his teeth, “you look so lean but god, the fact that you just picked me up like a rag doll…” Finn’s words trailed off as Leo chuckled softly leaning in to press a kiss against his jaw, then down the pale skin on his neck. He relished in the feeling of Finn’s hands pressing into the muscle of his shoulders, grasping at his back as his mouth wandered lower, his tongue dipping into the hollow of Finn's collar bone.

“How much do you lift?” Finn said through gasped breaths, his body trembling under the press of Leo’s lips.

Leo couldn’t help but laugh at that, he buried his face into Finn's shoulder in an attempt to stifle it, “that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, his own laughter reverberating into Leo, “I can’t help it. Please just tell me, it’s gonna bug me if you don’t.”

A hot rush of affection ran through Leo, it pooled in his stomach and made him smile so wide he couldn’t have hidden it if he tried. He hummed softly and began pressing soft sweet kisses back up the column of Finn’s throat, loving the vibration against his lips when Finn nearly purred at the feeling. Finn tipped his head back making the cabinet behind them clatter as he rested it there.

“You’re cute,” Leo said, sucking a dark bruise just under Finn’s jaw, his teeth scraping against the tender skin, “and around 350.”

Finn huffed and pulled Leo back up to catch his lips in another searing kiss, Leo felt like every place the two of them touched was melting, burning in the heat of Finn, his touch. Leo could barely breathe from the intensity.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered breathlessly, pulling away from Finn just a bit. “Wait,” he started letting their foreheads rest together, Leo still had his eyes closed.

“Why are we stopping?” Finn asked softly, panting just as hard.

“Because, I- we should talk about this,” Leo said, finally blinking his eyes open to watch Finn’s reaction, “you know before we just jump in, both feet first,” he smoothed his hands up those strong thighs still wrapped around his waist.

“Do we have to,” he whispered, keeping his eyes shut.

“Sugar,” Leo murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Finn’s cheekbone where the tear tracks from the night before had long since been wiped away, “last night you were crying in my arms because you’re convinced Logan doesn't love you. Sweetheart, we have to talk about it.”

Finn cracked a little smile at that, “I suppose you’re right,” he said, fingers playing with the curls at the back of Leo’s neck sending tingles and shivers down his spine.

“Fish,” Leo started, his hands wrapping around Finn’s hips, his fingers finding purchase on warm skin, “what is there between you and Logan? I just- I’ve gotta know, because I care for you,” Leo leaned in to press his face into Finn’s chest, “but I don’t want to be a replacement, or a placeholder for someone else.”

“Oh Leo, no,” Finn said, holding him tighter in his arms, “I’ve never thought of you like that. And this thing with me and Lo… I- I wish I had an easy answer for you. Hell, what I wouldn’t do for an easy answer for myself.” Finn let one of his hands slide down Leo’s back, pressing into the dip between his shoulder blades, “Logan is… he’s the love of my life, has been since the day I met him. But he won’t let me love him, and I can’t make him let me.” Finn’s voice was sad and introspective Leo could feel the gentle vibrations as he spoke, “but the things I feel for Logan don’t change the things I feel for you Leo, you’re not a replacement or a placeholder for Lo. You’re just- you’re different, you’re… you,” Finn pulled back a little and all Leo could do was look up into those big brown eyes as he whispered, “and I think I might be falling in love with you too.”

Leo took in a shuddering breath at those words not expecting the weight of them to settle onto his skin like warm bedsheets on a cold winter night.

“I know, it sounds crazy,” Finn continued, “how could someone be in love with two people at once? I’ve told myself so many times not to let myself fall for you, but then I see that beautiful smile of yours,” Finn cupped a palm against Leo’s cheek his thumb brushing softly against his kiss swollen lips making Leo smile almost unconsciously, “It make my heart feel like it’s gonna crack just at the sight of it and I know it’s too late, cause I’m already falling.”

“Leo, I don’t want to lose you. You’ve become very important to me,” Finn said, still holding Leo close like he was treasuring the feeling of him there in his arms, “but, I don’t want to lose Logan either. Not that I really have him, but I just- I want both of you. Is that wrong? Does that make me selfish?”

“No,” Leo said simply, hoping to stop Finn’s line of thinking in its tracks. “No, Finn, you’re not wrong or selfish for loving more than one person. And it doesn’t sound crazy at all to me, because Fish I would be a liar if I said I didn’t feel something for Logan too. Both of you are so unique and perfect in your own ways, how could I not feel for you two?”

Those beautiful chocolate brown eyes of Finns blinked down at Leo as if silently asking him ‘so what do we do now?’ Smiling softly up at him, Leo turned into the palm still cupping his cheek and pressed a kiss there.

“If you want,” he started, “we could just… see where this goes? Logan is unknown right now, but you and me, we could try?”

Finn’s smile was radiant at that simple offer, Leo could see relief break off of Finn like the calving of a glacier. His hands held Leo so tight it was like he was scared that if he let go now this new thing would float away on arctic waters, but Leo wasn’t going anywhere.

“I would love to try this with you,” Finn finally answered, and with that Leo leaned in and caught Finn’s lips in a kiss just because he could. It was soft and slow and filled with everything Leo had been feeling since the day they had met.

Leo let his mouth wander downwards, down Finn’s throat, his lips sliding over sharp collar bones. Finn sighed, his head falling back to clatter against the cabinet again when Leo’s teeth grazed over a nipple. Leo loved the smooth texture of Finn’s skin under his tongue, the way he could feel his heart beating faster under his lips as he continued toying with his nipple.

“Hmmm,” Leo hummed softly kissing a freckle at the edge of his nipple, “you know, my Nanna used to say that freckles were brown sugar. But yours,” he flicked his tongue over another freckle, “yours are cinnamon.”

“Le,” Finn gasped as Leo caught his nipple in his teeth again soothing over it with his tongue, “as sweet as that is, maybe let’s not talk about your grandma when you’re sucking on my nipples?”

Leo couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up out of him as he pulled back away a bit, “Do you want me to stop then?” he asked looking up at Finn with a teasing smirk and one more flick of his tongue against his sensitive skin.

“Don’t you dare,” Finn breathed, he reached up and threaded his fingers into Leo’s curls, softly tugging him back towards his body. Chuckling lightly, Leo obliged, pressing his mouth back to Finn’s chest but continuing to move his lips downwards. Finn whined, his fingers tightening in his hair when Leo’s mouthed at the waistband of those faded blue jeans.

“Is this ok?” Leo whispered the question into Finn’s pelvis, hands smoothing up his thighs to toy with the button of his pants.

Unfortunately, before he was able to answer a loud alarm blared from Finn’s pocket making both of them jump in surprise, Leo could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“Damn it,” Finn sighed with a groan, he banged his head on the cabinet. “I’m sorry, I want to,” Leo felt Finn’s hand tighten in his hair before sliding down to cup his jaw, “I really want to, but I have to go. I’m gonna be late for practice. Can we… rain check?”

Leo huffed a laugh, “Yeah, we can do that,” he stood up straight and pressed a kiss to Finn’s mouth, “I’ll see you tonight? After practice?” he asked hopefully.

Finn grimaced and made a pained noise, “My brothers in town, I told him I’d go to dinner with him. ‘M sorry.”

“S’ok,” Leo murmured, his mouth wandering back to the dark bruise he had made on Finn’s neck and sucking, “when you get home then.”

Finn nodded as his alarm began blaring loud from his pocket again, he sighed and slid down off the counter, “I’ve gotta go,” he whispered, pressing one last soft kiss to Leo’s lips. Leo smiled softly at him as Finn moved out of his reach, rushing around the apartment, grabbing a sweatshirt off the back of the couch and pulling it over his head as he tried to shove his feet into a pair of sneakers. Snagging his keys off the counter Finn rushed towards the front door but paused just before he left, “Bye,” he said softly with a little wave to Leo.

“Bye,” he waved back just as Finn slipped through the door, leaving Leo alone in their apartment.

Read on AO3

Chapter 24 Chapter 26

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 25 - Drunk Holidays

Summary: George has to take care of your giddy, drunk little ass during Christmas break in the Burrow

Warning: None

Word count: 3K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

“Come on, Ron!” you shouted excitedly as you stepped out of the taxi into the deep snow, following Harry and Ginny onto the icy road.

“This bloody thing!” said Ron angrily, struggling to pull his heavy trunk in the snow. You stopped and waited for him out of pity, but you just couldn’t wait to finally get into the house.

The last three and a half months were — let’s say, not the best times of your life. Fear, anxiety and suspense greeted you when you woke up and haunted you way past of falling asleep. Even though you and George, and even you and Fred exchanged letters every second day, assuring that everything was okay, news of more and more disappearings and deaths made you utterly scared and uneasy. Hannah Abbott’s mum was killed, Katie Bell had been attacked and the Dark Mark had been seen numerous times across the whole country.

Nevertheless, it was finally Christmas break. Something you had been looking forward to for a long time. It was here, and you were about to spend a few wonderful days at one of your favorite places, the Burrow.

Ginny had barely opened the front door to the house when a loud scream and an excited Mrs Weasley welcomed you into the kitchen.

“Oh, kids, finally… It’s so good to see you, come here, come here, all of you!”

She peppered you with hugs and kisses, not being able to restrain herself. While she was hugging Ron, you noticed a beautiful blonde figure at the kitchen table. You waved.

“Hey, Fleur.”

She smiled right back just when loud thumping was coming from the stairs. It sounded as though someone was running down on the staircase and indeed, a second later George and Fred emerged in the other side of the kitchen.

A huge grin appeared on your face as they made their way towards you, wearing the same wide joyous beam. Mrs Weasley was still nagging about how skinny Harry was, and they were completely claiming the small room between the kitchen table and the wall to themselves. Fred came to a halt and looked at her mother irritatedly, while George — barely able to contain himself — said in a tense voice:

“Mum, move! Er — please.”

“Oh, sorry dear, I…”

But you didn’t hear what she said for George was already holding you in his arms, lifting you up from the ground and rocking you from left to right, laughing. You were laughing just the same, squeezing him with your eyes closed until he put you down; then, you grabbed his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, a kiss which ended in laughter, a laughter of pure joy after not seeing each other for so long. Then, when you pulled apart, another familiar face made your heart burst with happiness.

“I reckon it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” said Fred and hugged you just as tightly as his brother, while you held him as close as you could, and only letting go of him when your arms felt sore and tired. Even then, you beamed at the both of them, not even knowing which one to look at.

“Thanks, I am here as well,” said Ginny to her brothers in mock anger. You laughed again, grabbing both George’s and Fred’s hands.

“Let’s go up, I want to hear everything about you two!”

——

George was still smiling to himself hours later when he thought about the afternoon; it was hard to hide his smile from Fred as he replayed in his mind how you were laughing at his jokes and how you took his hand into your lap so naturally, so lovingly… He had missed you so much, so bad for three excrutiatingly long months. But you were finally here, safe in his arms.

Whatever he had written in his letters, he had been nervous, too. Oh, yes, of course. After what had happened to Katie, it had taken him twice the usual time just to fall asleep, not being able to think about anything else but what if… Had it been you who touched the necklace, he’d known he would have gone mad. Having you so far away from him in times like these made him having anxious fits all day long.

But not today. Today he wasn’t anxious. Today he could relax a bit. You were there, waiting for him back at the Burrow, and he couldn’t wait to kiss you again, to smell the scent of your hair again, to hear all your stories again, to listen to the sound of your voice when you laugh at —

“What’s so funny?” asked Fred as they were walking back in the snow. They had been to the village, letting Fred have a go at a girl they had met a few days ago.

George turned his head away slightly, trying to organize his expression.

“Nothing.”

“Mphf!” chuckled Fred. “No, I get it. Lover boy.”

George felt his ears turning red under the knitted hat.

“Shut up. You don’t have to have a go at me every time. Might pay you back one day.”

“Well, as things were going with sweet cheeks back there —”

George snorted.

“Don’t even dream about it. She was into me the whole time.”

“Only because she thought I was you, you see.”

“She went for the intelligent one,” smirked George.

“Come off it, had she gone for the handsome one —”

“Then it still would’ve been me.”

Fred snorted and George laughed as they got a glance at the Burrow. Being rather dark at this point, a few windows were lit by the light inside, and George couldn’t wait to sat down into a squashy chair and warm his cold hands by the fire.

“Bighead, are you?” said Fred as he opened the gate to the garden. “You wouldn’t be so cheeky if I told mum about the ring.”

George stopped in his tracks.

“You wouldn’t.”

Fred laughed, apparently enjoying himself.

“Just think about the fuss she’d make! All the weeping —”

“No, stop it, will you? Mum doesn’t need to know. So don’t go on talking about it.”

His voice was angrier than he had intented it to be. He headed for the door but Fred grabbed his arm, making him stop.

“I know, Georgie, I was just joking.”

“Well — don’t. And don’t call me Georgie, you git.”

“What a snappy retort.”

“If you don’t take me seriously —”

“I do!” said Fred hastily, still not letting George go. “So, tell me. But quickly, my toes are already numb.”

George looked at his brother then turned his head towards the house. He could hear laughter form inside.

“I have the ring, but I don’t want to ask her just yet.”

“You think she’d say no? Don’t be a prat, she’s —”

“I know, but it’s… not the right time,” he looked back at Fred. “I want her to finish school. I want us to have our own life before I ask her. But I have the ring cause it’s a nice reminder of what’s about to come. And if you tell mum I’ll end you.”

Fred grinned and started walking again towards the house.

“Don’t worry, Georgie, I keep your secret.”

“I sure hope so,” answered George and opened the door to the kitchen. Fred shrugged.

“Anyway, it still — What the bloody hell’s going on here?”

Hearing Fred’s shocked voice George jerked his head at once, excpecting trouble, but all he saw was Ginny, his mum and you around the kitchen table, having a fit of laughter.

“…and then he said,” giggled Mrs Weasley, clearly not aware that her sons were back. “That he never saw a witch anything like me before and that he’d like to —”

“MUM!” shouted Ginny, half embarrassed, half laughing. “I don’t want to hear that!”

You cried out in laughter, burying your face into your hands, your eyes watering. Mrs Weasley reached for her glass in front of her and emptied it within seconds. George’s gaze fell onto your glass which was also empty.

“What is going on?” he asked, looking around at the three of you. You were still wiping your eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Bloody hell, look at this,” said Fred, snatching the empty bottle from the table. “They’ve drunk all of it! Mum! Where did you get this?”

“Freddie!” said Mrs Weasley, shushing you and Ginny while fighting a giggle. “Come, come  here, we were just…”

“Mum,” said George louder. “Where did you find this bottle?”

“In the — in the — cupboard,” she started giggling again and you did, too.

“Above the sink?” asked Fred. “This was supposed to be for the eggnog tomorrow! One cup only! Ginny?”

“Oh, they — hush now! They found the bottle and wanted to taste it.”

“And they drank the whole bottle?” asked George, trying to talk over your continuos giggling. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“I’m not their guardian! And I wanted to drink it, too, but it had a dreadful smell! They didn’t mind, tough.”

“Oooh, we’re in trouble!” you said, trying to whisper but unable to do so. Fred laughed.

“Yeah, Mum’s been talking about her and dad at Hogwarts, she’s sort of all right,” said Ginny, watching the pair of you. “But I think Y/N has just lost it.”

Every head turned towards you, as you were still having a fit of laughter. Mrs Weasley reached for the bottle but she just realized it had gone from the table.

“Oh — Thank you!” she reached for the bottle in Fred’s hand but he jerked it away.

“I can’t believe this!” a satisfied smile appeared on his lips. “Oh, mum, I cannot wait to tell you about this tomorrow.”

You whispered something into Mrs Weasley’s ear and you both started to giggle like mad. Then you looked at Fred and said:
 “Fred — Fred you won’tbelievethis,” your words started to become incomprehensible. “You — you — hehe…”


You didn’t finish but reached for your empty glass and raised it to your mouth. Then, when you saw that it was already empty, the saddest, most miserable expression appeared on your face. George burst out laughing.

“All right. Even though I am quite entertained, they need to go to bed.”

“No!” said Ginny. “I want to watch them, they’re funny.”

“They won’t be funny tomorrow,” said Fred. “They need to sleep it off.”

“Why?” asked Ginny. “They seem fine.”

George looked at the empty bottle.

“Well, let’s say this stuff is stronger than your usual butterbeer.”

“Why? What’s in it?”

George caught Fred’s eye and they decided without words that it’s better to keep the ingredients to themselves.

“Er — a lot of things.”

“Brilliant,” said Ginny, standing up from the table. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t even know.”

“Ginny!” you suddenly reached for her hand and squeezed it, pulling her close to you. With your eyes wide open you whispered, though everyone heard you clearly. “Ginny, you like Harry Potter. Ginny… The Harry Potter! He’s upstairs! Go up, Ginny, go and —”

Ginny laughed and carefully loosened your grip. Then she looked at George.

“Yes, maybe they need to sleep it off. See you tomorrow.”

Then she headed for the staircase but you didn’t watch her. Your eyes were fixed on George in great surprise, as though you just realized he was there, too. Mrs Weasley leaned closer to you and whispered something into your ear. You started giggling again.

“All right,” said Fred. “I reckon mum’s up to me.”

George nodded.

“She might fall asleep before dad comes home.”

He walked over to you. You jumped as he touched your elbow.

“No!” you said, fear in your eyes. “No, you’re makin’ us sleep, no! I don’t want to sleep, I —”

“Come here, love,” said George with a grunt, lifting you up from the table. He helped you standing up but had to grab you immediately as you were about to crash into the table. “Careful. Are you okay?”

“I don’t wanna sleep!” you mumbled, reaching for your glass, but George made it disappear with a flick of his wand. “Hey!”

“Sorry, love, but you need to sleep. Come — no, this way — that’s it.”

He put an arm around your waist, keeping your balance and you even managed to put one foot up the stairs, but then you stopped. In the kitchen George could see Fred guiding his mum to the bedroom.

“You’re a funny man, George,” you said suddenly with great certainty.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Funny, funny man,” you mumbled. George laughed and took another step on the stairs.

“All right, let’s go.”

“Noo!” you mumbled, frowning.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” he lied, holding back his laugh at the sight of your disapproving face.

“No, I don’t wannasleep!” you said, struggling to form the words.

“Oh, no, why not?” asked George, taking another step with you. He figured if he keeps you talking, you won’t realize that he’s taking you upstairs.

“I need to tellyousomething.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Ahhh!” you said, chortling. “Did you know you’re so cute?”

George chuckled.

“Thanks, love. What do you want to tell me?”

“I just did! You don’t listentome!”

“Oh, okay, that was it, then?

“Mm…” you reached for his face, clearly to caress it, but you were not in charge of your actions at all and you poked him in the eye. George started blinking heavily, looking through his tears.

“All right, love,” he gently pulled your hand away from his face and you two finally made a turn on the staircase.

“Oh, Georgie,” you gave a really deep sigh. George couldn’t hide his smile anymore.

“What is it, love?”

“You are so nice! So, so nice! And you have a nice soul and everything!”

“Well, you have a really nice soul, too.”

“Oh, God, I’m so drunk.”

George laughed. You stopped walking and looked at him, frowning.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes,” chuckled George. “Yes, I do.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted, then, a weird, surprised expression fell over your face. You smiled, letting out a giddy laugh.

“You’re so handsome.”

George felt his ears turning red just like every time you complimented him, but he was still beaming nevertheless. You took his face into your hands again - this time successfully missing his eye - and tilted your head.

“You know what I love the most?”

“What?” asked George, completely forgetting about his mission to take you upstairs. Your drunk smile somehow made him feel intoxicated, too.

“Your freckles,” you mumbled, still holding his face. “I love your freckles.”

It was one of those rare occasions when George had no idea what to say. Something told him that your statements were coming from a very genuine place.

“So pretty,” you sighed and continued your way upstairs. George followed. “I even liked them when you were younger. And you. You were so cute…”

“Mm, you liked me, didn’t you? Wait…” said George suddenly. “You liked me? I didn’t know about this!”

“Because I didn’t tell you, silly,” you mumbled and chuckled at the same time.

“Tell me more, please,” said George, totally in shock. You giggled.

“You know you have a nice smile, Georgie?”

“No, tell me about how you liked me…”

“I am! When I was sorted, you were smiling with Gryffindoor. And I thought you were really cute. And I know you by your smile and now when you smile at me I’m really happy. I wanna brush my teeth.”

You stopped as you reached the bathroom. George opened the door for you. You stood next to the sink, struggling to put toothpaste on your toothbrush. George helped. He watched you while you were hastily brushing your teeth, and when you finished he lead you to his room.

“I’m tired.”

You fell into his bed face first and George had to grab your legs and put them onto the matress for you to be able to lie down properly. You reached for his hand and pulled him to you so suddenly that he had to squat down next to the bed.

“Georgie, I wanna tell you something else as well.”

“Well, don’t hold back now,” he said, leaning over in a very uncomfortable position. His neck was already hurting but he couldn’t pull away; you were holding him in a firm grip.

“Georgie, do you know you were the first person who actually cared for what I had to say?”

George looked at you, startled. You were clearly reminiscing but your face was gloomy. George had no idea what to say to you.

“I see.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your head on his pillow, your eyes closed. It was almost like you were talking in your sleep. “McLaggen always fancied me but I don’t think he had the slightest interest in me. And that guy… he ditched me.”

“What guy?” asked George with a sudden feel of discomfort. You had never told him this.

“My date at the Yule Ball,” you mumbled. “He didn’t even care… Why did he ask me, then? He left me there after ten minutes.”

“Oh… I remember that. But you had a great time after that, didn’t you?” he added hopefully.

“Yes,” you said with a deep sigh.

Then suddenly, you opened your eyes but you weren’t looking at George. You were staring at the wall, but it looked as though you didn’t even see it. You were clearly thinking about something else, and when you spoke your voice cracked.

“I was so lonely.”

George knew that this was the moment when his heart broke into a million pieces. He stared at you, unable to speak. He felt as though the words got stuck somewhere around his stomach, unable to burst out. And he suddenly felt scared; scared that your sadness was rooted deeper than he could imagine and this time he won’t be able to comfort you. But then your beautiful, tired eyes met his and you spoke again.

“I’m not lonely anymore.”

Had George had the ring with him in that moment, he knew he would have asked you right on the spot. But the ring was in his flat on Diagony Alley, buried deep in a drawer among a bunch of socks. Also, you were quite drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember anything by tomorrow.

“Will you stay?” you asked, whispering.

“Of course, witty,” he said as he lay down next to you in his bed. “Always.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Home. Yan!Shigaraki x Reader [COMM]

Japan brings with it a plethora of memories.

Memories ranging from the highest of your life to the lowest. Times that you can recall with a special fondness, reserved in your heart for the rest of your life. But always balanced out with numerous hurts, times that you wish you could erase from your mind. All of it remains a mixed bag within you, serving only to befuddle your true feelings further as you get off the plane. 

Going through customs felt surreal, the bustle of the airport one that struck you with a sense of  nostalgia. The people, the scents, the sights -- it all left you with a weary heart, but you had already expected to feel this way. Returning wasn’t an easy decision, the dividing thought leaving you with numerous restless nights.

But ultimately, your choice has been made. With suitcases in hand, you look down towards your phone. Traveling always sounds nice in theory, but jet lag and exhaustion were taking you hostage. Still, it won’t do to get tired now; you still need to make it to your new apartment after all.

‘If I could survive that long flight in economy class, I can last through one more Uber drive.’

Blurry images of the airport scenery go by, the music in the car all but tuned out by your chaotic thoughts. It all reminds you of how you left in such a hurry in the first place, in the dead of night. How conflicted you were then -- constantly doubting your decision and wondering if you should just turn back.

But turning back to Shigaraki at the time didn’t feel like a viable option. 

You don’t think of it as running away from your problems. Even if that’s what it may sound like, you tried all you reasonably could do. From countless heart to heart discussions, to tearful phone calls. All of it fell on deaf ears, or worse, served to irritate him. Neither of you would back down from your given positions, despite the care you shared for one another. The care that led you to overlook your own morals for a time being. 

Shigaraki was always someone who was firmly planted in his ways, and didn’t care for having his morals challenged. Though he was considerably more tolerable towards your verbal opposition than anyone else would even have the opportunity to attempt, it didn’t mean he’d change his mind in the end. 

So you left. It’s bizarre to believe that eight months have already passed since then, eight months of your life being vastly different than before. Even when you weren’t in Japan, you would still hear news reports of the League of Villain's activities. Every time a headline popped up of what was happening, it made your stomach drop. 

His hold over you didn’t feel as less constricting as you had originally hoped it would. Even if he was no longer physically with you during those times, you could still almost imagine his presence by your side. His mannerisms, what he would say to you if he was there. The nightmare never ended, it only got worse as the days went on. Shigaraki would never stop haunting you.

Which leads to where you are now. Having left the car with a quiet thank you, staring up at your new apartment building. Getting your keys from the main office, you desire nothing more than for this to be a positive beginning in your life. If leaving Japan didn’t help you feel any better, it only made sense for you to come back. There’s no place like home, after all. 

But you’ll still be living your life on the down low. It’s unnerving, since the League never stayed in one area for long. If you knew where they were hiding now, you would gladly put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. But given the nature of Shigaraki’s vision, they were always on the move. 

Turning your keys until you hear a click, your last burst of energy goes into opening the door. Inside showcased an apartment devoid of furniture, but still your new home nonetheless. With a deep sigh, you tug your heavy luggage through the door frame. 

‘I’ll at least need to unpack some things before I can sleep…’

Briskly walking to the sink, you splash cold water onto your face in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Your new mattress won’t be delivered until tomorrow, so sleeping on the floor is all you can do for the time being. Shaking your head at the thought, you sluggishly get to work.

Grabbing your favorite blanket and pillow, you lazily throw it where your bed will soon take its place. Everything else can wait for tomorrow, it’s not like you’ll have any company to entertain. With the sun already having set thirty minutes ago, you close your blinds and gratefully lay down. 

Even if it’s on the floor, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders to finally relax.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to find you, all of your pent up emotions and nonstop thinking having sapped all your energy. All you can hope for, as your heavy eyelids flutter shut, is that tomorrow will be the fresh start that you have longed for.

---

“Mnh…” 

Rubbing your eyes, you almost panic for a moment at your new surroundings. Before recalling all that had occurred, and that this place is your home now. 

‘What time is it…?’

Blindly groping around your pillow for your phone, your eyes squint in pain at the bright screen. Displaying that it’s only 11:25 PM, and that you only had been asleep for a few hours. The effects of sleeping on the floor make themselves known, your back aching at the lack of proper support. 

Grimacing at the throbbing discomfort, you put your phone down before sitting up with a yawn. With intention to get up and soothe your dry throat with a drink, you never get the chance before a voice pierces through the dark.

“All that running sure must’ve been exhausting.”

Jumping at the sound of a lower voice in your pitch black room, your eyes rapidly dart around for the possible source. Breathing growing unsteady, you feel your lips tremble at the thought of a stranger in your apartment. Would your quirk be useful enough in fending them off? 

Hugging your knees against your chest in a reflexive response, your mind scrambles to come up with a plan. 

Reaching to grab your phone out of desperation, you finally let out a weak response. “W-who’s there? I’ll call the police!”

“Like that’d do any good.” The voice responds in a mocking lilt. Like a sudden wave crashing over you, you’re finally able to discern through your fatigued state who this is. You feel as if you’re being dragged beneath the waves, the air all but smacked from your lungs.

‘That’s--!’

Footsteps approach you slowly, methodically. You feel frozen, incapable of even forming a coherent thought. As the person gets closer, you realize you need to run. But before you can even get the opportunity, you feel a foreboding weight around your shoulders.

And four fingers tapping against your bare skin.

“Did you forget about me, [First]?” 

You know that voice all too well. The fact that even sleep managed to dull your guess of who it was is astonishing, but no longer do you feel uncertain of who it is. Goosebumps line your exposed skin, the sound of your own shaky breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

“Sh-Shigaraki…?” 

“So you didn’t,” he responds with a low, humorless snicker. Tightening his grip around you, you can feel his hair tickling your face. “I’m glad I don’t have to remind you of that, at least.” 

Swallowing thickly, you feel tears prickling the edge of your eyes. There are too many overwhelming things on your mind, too many questions without answers and silent pleads. It all feels too suffocating, air becoming a luxury that you miss. In the moment, all you can will yourself to do is choke out your next words. 

“How,” you exhale shakily, mind screaming your tongue drier than sandpaper. “How did you find me?” 

For a brief moment, you feel his coarse fingers cease their previous drumming movements. In a motion that could only be described as flinching, Shigaraki quickly recovers himself while answering your question with a malicious bite. 

“After all this time, that’s what you want to say to me?” Shigaraki growls out towards you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You desperately wish that none of this is real, that the cruel events unfolding before your very eyes are all but a dream. 

From all the time that you had spent with Shigaraki, you had grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Being able to pick up on every little nuance of his words, to what every twitch of his muscles meant. But now, you feel incapable of doing just that. Is it bitterness hidden in his words? Disappointment, frustration? Something tells you that it’s all of that, and more. 

“Whatever. I’ll humor you with the answer. Imagine my surprise, I get a phone call from Toga. I was barely able to understand her at first, her voice was so frantic and excited,” Shigaraki pauses for a moment, recalling the prior events. “Eventually, she manages to explain that ‘big sis [First]’ is back. And well… here we are.” 

At first you didn’t pick up on it, but there’s a slight tremble in Shigaraki’s voice. You realize now how difficult he’s trying to hold himself together, feeling his body shaking against your own. Each of his words come out more forced than the last, almost as if a lump was forming in his throat. 

Unable to conjure up a response fast enough, you hear Shigaraki’s labored breathing growing more unsteady.

“Well? Say something! Don’t just sit there.” 

All false impressions of control start to slip through his fingers, true emotions no longer being able to hide. Cracks beneath the surface reveal to you just how much pain he is in, the mere thought enough to tug on your own battered heartstrings even more. You open your mouth, wondering if there’s anything you can say to diffuse the situation. 

He clings to you tighter.

“Shigaraki… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sniffle, small sobs unable to be suppressed any longer. His muscles tense at the sound of you crying, a battle within ensuing. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t take the violence, t-the constant living in fear! I don’t know, I don’t know…” 

Much to your surprise, a rough hand wipes away the tears leaving your dampened eyes. Jaw agape, you feel deft fingers working hard to dry your skin. You remember long ago how he told you once that he hated seeing you cry, that it made him unsure of what to do.

Hiccuping, you feel your lip tremble at your next question. “Are you going to kill me too now?” 

“I don’t know, probably not. Just… just stop crying already.”

Shaking your head, you know the waterworks won’t be stopping anytime soon. Now it was your turn to take Shigaraki by surprise, stuffing your head against his chest to muffle your own cries. He subconsciously moves his fingers to make sure they don’t all touch you at once, and you feel how tense he becomes at your unexpected touch.

Eventually, he places a tentative few digits against your back, awkwardly attempting to soothe you. It all brings you to the pinnacle of your emotions, unable to hold back your full fledged sobs any longer. Gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie, you take in his familiar scent. Shigaraki begins gnawing on his lip, having not expected his confrontation to go like this. 

He eventually returns your serpent tight hug, placing his head into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” Shigaraki finally grumbles against your skin, his own emotions too unsteady to even understand. “I’m not ever letting you out of my sight again.”

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 26)

word count: 5k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 25) (series masterlist)

you had spent the first half of the night crying. full on ugly crying, tears streaming down your cheeks and your sobs muffled into whichever boy was comforting you at the time.

mingi had proved to be the rational one. still sweet and gentle in the way he comforted you but also trying to get some coherent words and thoughts out of you. "you need to talk to us so we can help you, y/n. you'll feel better then."

but yunho understands that sometimes, crying it all out helps. that getting all of your hurt and anguish out in the form of sobbing is sometimes the way. thought his heart does hurt thinking about how much you've cried these past months, surprised that you have any tears left in you.

though how can you not?

with seonghwa's brokenness and dejected spirit in your mind. the way he drank himself into his most vulnerable state and confessed to how lonely he's been these past months.

with the way yeosang had acted so defensively and didn't seem to trust you. how neither of you contacted each other and now left you with the feeling that everything might be over.

for your own self, how you feel so much guilt and sadness for both of the boys. how the pit in your stomach is only grower larger and larger, feeling like after all of this time, you still haven't made a choice.

the choice you thought you made the second you decided to date yeosang, if the way you were just a second away from telling the boy you loved him was any indication. but now the way he reacted hurt you, him throwing your obvious confusion and past mistakes in your face so easily.

because while you don't believe kissing either of them was a mistake, being more open and honest in the first place might've saved everyone a little bit of trouble. the trouble that now you can't help but feel responsible for.

"it wasn't only you," mingi's quick to say, his large hands dabbing at your wet cheeks. "yeosang knew of seonghwa's feelings and seonghwa came on way too strong the second he met you."

it's words you've heard the boy say multiple times and usually, they slightly comforted you. but now it only makes your heart tug at the awfully messy situation this all had become. you think the worst part is that it could've destroyed a friendship, had yeosang and seonghwa not already been through so much together.

your tears finally stop after a few more softly spoken words from mingi but eventually his blunt and abrupt "enough fucking crying, y/n," snapping you out of your pity and shameful breakdown.

yunho eyes snap to the boy, his face twisting into one of shock. "mingi..." the boy says lowly, his eyes softening as he looks at the boy in disapproval.

"i'm not being a dick, y/n," he says, wiping at your wet cheeks one more time before taking your hand in his. "i'm just so sick of seeing you cry over this."

"and you think i'm not?" you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down to not alert your parents. "i don't know wh-what to do. i still don't know what to do, mingi. i've had fucking months to get it together and i'm still sitting here crying like an idiot. i'm toying with both of them like a selfish bitch and both of them are gonna tell me-"

"stop," yunho says, his deep, commanding voice causing your eyes widen; you've never heard him talk like that. he rises from your chair in the corner and sits on the other side of you, placing his arm around you and tugging you into his broad chest.

"listen to me. you're not gonna call yourself that again. we're gonna talk everything out even if it means staying up all night to get your head on straight again. okay?" he eyes mingi who's watching both of them carefully, smiling softly at the boy as if to say that's how you approach a crying teenage girl.

the three of you talk until your throat is raw, explaining to them how much it hurt you to see seonghwa like that. how you couldn't physically leave him at a bar drunk and upset when you knew you were to blame; and even if you weren't to blame, you couldn't allow that.

"but like i told yeosang, i would've done that for anyone. like if it was one of you, obviously. so i don't know why he had to throw that in my face!"

mingi and yunho smile softly at you, one of their large hands coming up to pat down your messy hair.

"i know, sweetling. he knows that too," yunho tells you, "he probably just felt threatened and scared."

"but why?" you cry out, looking at the boys with a baffled expression. "i was literally about to tell him i love him and now he's upset that i went to pick up our fri-"

"wait, what?" they both blurt out, yunho's eyes lit up with happiness and surprise as mingi's mouth is dropped into an o shape.

"yeah," you say, nodding your head a shy smile makes it way on your face; you suppose you'd never said that out loud before. "i really felt like i was ready to say it, especially on our trip together. but now with this, i don't-"

"one fight doesn't mean you don't love him anymore," mingi says, "you either love him or you don't."

you take a moment to think about his words, remembering all your good moments with yeosang. from both ski trips and your time at school and on all of your dates and times at his house.

and you think, even given the way you guys first met an were with each other, that the good outweigh the bad. he brings out a spark in you that you were always too scared and timid to show. he pushes you to go out of your comfort zone and will tell you things you need to hear even if they're harsh.

"i-i do," you eventually find yourself saying, a happy feeling fluttering in your stomach as you admit it aloud.

because when it comes down to it, if you guys broke up over this, you'd be devastated. if you guys broke up at all, you couldn't imagine seeing him and being okay with not talking to him, not going home without him and never being able to laugh with him on his couch.

"okay, good," yunho says with a smile. "that was one of the two things we have to settle." the blonde looks at mingi with a leading look, the redhead rolling his eyes slightly at his....friend.

"why do you make me say the hard stuff," mingi growls.

"because you're the mean one. i'm the nice, soft spoken one."

you giggle when see mingi's eyes narrow at him, affection and care even obvious in his 'angry' expression.

you know tonight is a time for you to get your shit together, so everyone can move on from this and maybe every interaction won't be these two boys comforting you. but you can't wait for the moment you can finally ask them what's been going on between them.

because you know it's something.

"whatever," mingi says, the growl in his voice not all that biting or scary before he turns to look at you. you see his eyes soften as he looks over your face, bringing his hand down to rest atop yours again.

"but then we have to ask, what about seonghwa? do you love him too?"

you lick at your lips anxiously, almost wanting to laugh at this. because you're just a group of teenagers sitting in your bedroom at 2 am, crying and talking about love like you guys know anything at all. but it truly feels like everything is so intense and serious; because what love is more passionate than those of naive high schoolers?

your mind wracks over the not so simple question for a few minutes. you think about your memories with seonghwa and the pang in your heart tells you you care deeply for the boy and the memories he's given you. you love that he was there for you and helped you and was kind to you.

but that might be the difference. the cliche, well-known idea of loving someone versus being in love with someone. but that feels like the only way to describe yourself in this situation. describe why not a single part of you wants to hurt seonghwa, why you've maybe been dragging your feet through all of this and finding it so incredibly hard to deal with.

because even after tonight, you don't wanna make the choice. consider what seems like the most obvious choice in the universe but knowing that's not what you want. because who wouldn't pick seonghwa? it seems as if right now, you should be leaning towards him.

but the way your eyes well up with tears is the first indication to everyone in the room that, while you might love him, it's not the way you love someone else.

so the second half of the night is spent coming to terms with his decision, laying right in the middle of yunho and mingi as you tell them about the first time you met seonghwa and how much he helped you in 4th period. how pretty much before you could defend yourself or say something back he was always there. how gentle and delicate and soft he always was with you.

the stories are such sharp contrasts to your beginning ones with yeosang that it should place some doubt in your mind.

but when your eyes are finally threatening to shut, your mind fogging with sleep and drowsiness, your last remaining thought is you hope you wake up to a message from your boyfriend.

and just a few hours later, that's exactly what happens.

the second your eyes snap open, you sit up slowly, yunho's heavy arm around your waist holding you down, before you reach out and grab your phone. it's barely eight in the morning but you already have two messages from yeosang and one from seonghwa, your heart falling into your stomach at the sight.

because both of the boys had said the same thing.

seonghwa:

-> i'm sorry.

yeosang:

-> i'm sorry, baby.

-> can we talk?

you let out a shaky breath, rising out of bed quietly as you pad over to your chair in the corner and decide how to respond. a quiet, almost pained groan leaves mingi's mouth when you click into your messages with seonghwa, looking at the boy with your eyebrows furrowed.

and then your heart nearly explodes when you watch yunho reach out in his sleep, his hand stretching out until it finds mingi's. you can't seem to look away as yunho's thumb unconsciously calms the boy, soft gentle strokes that causes mingi to roll over and move himself closer to him.

it's all so natural and instinctual, you can't stop the tears from pricking your eyes. you're even half tempted to snap a photo but decide against it, wanting to talk to the boy's first before you start taking their photos with the sole purpose of seeing them blush and hide into one another.

you look down at your phone and swallow the lump in your throat, your thumbs twiddling over the screen.

you don't know if he remembers anything he even said, if he only woke to san's concerned gaze who told him a...minute version of what happened. it's why you only respond that it's okay; you wanna say so much more, apologize yourself and assure him that he didn't do anything wrong, but you know now isn't the time.

seonghwa needs time to himself and you need time to talk with yeosang. which is why you respond to his message with a short "yes," his immediate text back asking if he could pick you up.

you text yunho and mingi in your group chat that you went to yeosang's and that your parents still know they're there (you made sure to tell your mom in the event that she walked into your room and saw the two large boys spooning on your bed).

yeosang's familiar car pulls up in front of your house as you sit on the couch with luna, stroking her white fur while trying to consider why you never thought to blame her. because if it hadn't been for her antics, you would've never wound up in seonghwa's backyard. but then she purrs on you and it's all over, petting her neck one more time before shooting up and out your door.

any hesitance and nervousness you feel when you sit down in yeosang's car vanishes the second you close the door. because when you turn around, he pulls you into his arms. it's a slightly awkward hug, given the console in the middle of you, but he couldn't wait any longer after the nightmare that was the past ten hours.

"i'm sorry," you hear his deep voice say quietly, "i'm so sorry for what i said. i was a fucking asshole and i didn't mean any of it."

tears prick at your eyes because of all the scenarios you thought of happening, this was the best possible case. knowing you guys still had things to talk about and feelings to confess but getting apologies and regrets out of the way immediately. not holding on to any anger or animosity.

"i'm sorry, too," you mumble into his neck. "i-it wasn't fair of me to say that and not listen to yo-"

"you don't have to listen to me, you can make your own decisions," he says as he pulls back, taking your face in his hands and running them over your cheeks. "i was just being a fucking pussy and thought you...wanted to be with seonghwa."

your lips can't help but quirk into a smirk at his vulgarity, shaking your head as your gaze meets his head on. he's looking at you so intently, eyes boring right into yours as they hold all the emotion and stress from the long night, even with you now in front of him.

"no," you say softly, shaking your head as you take his hand in yours. "i care about seonghwa but i..." the words are right on the tip of your tongue but you don't think this is the right place to say it. in the car, two seconds after making up from a fight. "i wanna be with you."

he tightens his hold on your hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a chaste kiss on. the smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter and swoop, no hint of the painful knot that was torturing it all night.

"thank god," he sighs out, "i thought...i wanted to..." you watch him struggle with the words and don't know it's for the very same reasons you were just struggling with. "just...thank god."

you smile and lean over to place a peck on his cheek, pulling back and immediately flushing when the low growl of your stomach erupts in the car. he raises his eyebrow playfully at you, your lowly spoken "shut up," causing him to smile.

"how 'bout we get breakfast?"

your breakfast date was fun and relaxed, given the circumstances. he drank half of your juice and you accidentally doused his waffles with too much syrup, both of you swatting playfully at the other. but the second you get to his house and take a seat on his sofa, you know the talk isn't over yet.

because when things are said like that in the moment, it's important to know if those are hidden thoughts that you've been keeping from each other. it's why you're the first to prompt the question and start the conversation, even though you just wanna bury yourself in his chest and take a well-deserved nap.

"does...the fact that i kissed seonghwa still bother you?"

he isn't even thrown off by the question, the sharp inhale he takes more at the reminder he spit that out in a fit of rage. it was that comment that made his blood boil, not at the fact he had to remember that fact, he remembers it everyday because of the impact it once had on you and him and his best friend.

it was more so that he used it against you, knew how much it upset you and how much you struggled with it but still decided to throw in your face. and for that, he's always gonna feel like an asshole.

"no, baby," he says, voice soft and sincere. he sees you give him an unconvinced look, your head cocked to the side with your eyebrow raised. "i'm serious," he continues, "i knew back then that...that was a possibility. in case you forgot, i used to have to watch you and him be all over each other."

your head falls to your chest despite his teasing tone, a tiny sigh leaving your mouth causing him to frown. he places his under your chin to lift your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"i was kidding, love. i promise, though, it doesn't bother me. i...only said that to be a dick. because i was feeling threatened and scared."

"like a pussy," you mumble lowly, not being able to control the smirk pulling at your lips. he snorts as he shakes his head, squeezing your face ever so slightly as he does so.

"like a pussy," he agrees, the chuckle that bubbles out of his mouth contagious. but then the laughter stops and his eyes soften, remembering the comeback you said that gave him a hard, aching blow to the heart.

"in case you forgot, he was saving me from you. because you were always the one being an asshole to me and making me cry."

because he couldn't even deny this part of it. he was an asshole and he did make you cry and seonghwa did save you from him every single time. in the library and on the ski trip and even on new years when he fucked up again.

which is why it's baffling to him why you're choosing him. why you're still with him when it's obvious seonghwa should be the one you're with.

"y/n," his deep voice utters quietly, knowing he was gonna speak by the way his eyes were currently roaming your face.

"what?" you squeak, the constant change of the mood today nearly giving you whiplash.

"i'm sorry i was such an asshole to you, in the beginning," he says. because while you guys joke that he's an asshole now, he knows he was an honest to god, true asshole. mean and conniving for no other reason than that that's how he was fighting his feelings for you.

and it's such lousy, juvenile excuse. but it's the truth nonetheless.

"i hate that i've made you cry so much," he hums, trailing his finger across your face gently. you swallow at the delicacy of his touch, warm and familiar and so gentle like he thinks you're gonna break at any moment.

"it's okay, yeosang," you mumble, your glossy eyes meeting his as you feel your throat grown thick with emotion. "i-i know you had your reasons."

a humorless laugh leaves his mouth as he shakes his head at you, feeling his heart pang again because "no reason would justify it, y/n. i was a dick and you shouldn't let me off the hook so easily."

you narrow your eyes at him, turning your head to the side as you take in his words. "what should i do then?" you eventually ask, "dump you? never forgive you?"

"yeah," he mumbles lowly, feeling in his heart and soul that's what he deserves. he shouldn't get to have you when you have other..suitable options. he shouldn't allow himself to accept your kindness and graciousness and affection. he should tell you to leave him and never look back but, because he's not a suitable option, he's too selfish to say that. "something like that."

"well i don't want to," you say firmly, knowing in that obnoxious little of head of his he's probably making up excuses as to why you should want to. that the way he's treated you should outweigh how is he now and probably some other nonsense about how he shouldn't accept your love. because that's what it is.

"because i love you. and i'd be really sad if you made me break up with you just because you're deciding to be a-"

"what?" he asks, his heart stilling and body freezing at what he thinks he just heard.

"what?" you parrot, trying so hard to contain the smile threatening to pull at your lips. but you can't help it, the look of absolute shock and disbelief on his face is far too funny.

"what did you just say?"

"that i don't want too?" you ask, met with a firm shake of the head.

your eyebrow raises in mock confusion. "that i'd be really sad if you made me-"

"y/n," he says warningly, very much on the verge of passing out or exploding.

your small, teasing giggle rings through the pool house and he'd wanna reprimand you if he wasn't in such a flustered state. because there's no way you said that. he had to have misheard, just hearing what he wants to instead of a very obvious-

"i love you," you repeat, the words still foreign and weird on your tongue. but it feels good to finally say it to him, a sad, sick part of your brain wondering when the last time he heard that was.

"why?" he asks, his mouth slightly agape as he eyes you warily. warily like someone trying to protect themselves, save themselves from being hurt by something that could potentially make them crumble and really break into pieces.

but you have no intention of doing that.

"because i do," you tell him, scooting closer to him to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. "so don't tell me to break up with you again or not forgive you," you warn, "because i won't listen and you're not the-"

his lips crashing on yours stops the words from leaving your mouth, smiling into the kiss as you pull yourself closer to him. the kiss itself says everything he hasn't yet, his hands coming up to your cheeks and pulling your faces impossibly closer.

you guys have kissed a lot and this is probably the most passionate. no dominating tongues or threats to make you shut up or an underlying notion to tease the other. just your lips connecting and fitting together like it was meant to happen, your giddy smiles and giggles against one another lips eventually being the thing that makes you pull apart.

"i love you, too," he says, his forehead leaning against yours as he tries to catch his breath. "i don't know why you love me but i know for sure that i fucking love you."

your cheeks warm at his words, your stomach and heart fluttering as you bury your face shyly in his neck. because you hadn't thought about how'd you feel hearing the confession back and it's made you a whole lot more flustered than you thought.

"all the things we've done on this couch and that's what it takes to get you shy?" he laughs against your head. you poke at his stomach harshly and he narrows his eyes, pushing you down quickly as a surprised squeal leaves your mouth.

he's hovering above you for a few seconds before your lips collide again, his tongue teasing to slip inside your mouth that you eagerly open for him. your hands travel up to his hair and you pull him closer by the strands, his small groan vibrating against your mouth before he pulls back.

his eyes roam over your red lips and flushed cheeks, your wide eyes looking up at him with such happiness and love he still can't grasp the fact that this his life. can't grasp that fact that someone like you would want, love, someone like him.

"i love you," he blurts out again, your smile widening at his deep voice uttering that word again.

"i love you," you say back, feeling yourself grow shy again. but it only causes him to laugh, his hand reaching out so his finger can graze across your pink cheek.

"i can't believe you said it first," he says in disbelief, feeling confident just yesterday that he was gonna be the one to crack.

"i can't believe you tried to get me to break up with you a second before," you retort, narrowing your eyes at him in disbelief. his hand gently trails along your jaw, running along your parted lips before he taps you on the nose.

"i still wouldn't blame you if you-"

"shut. up." you say, his eyes widening and a smirk on his face at the aggressive way you say. but it's not as aggressive as the way you sit up, push him back and jump right on top of him. he lets out a strangled groan at your weight on him and you can't help but giggle, placing a peck to his lips before you ask if you can take a nap now.

and that's how the rest of the day goes. your body on top of yeosang's, head on his chest while your legs lay between his, as the both of you sleep soundly. you both needed it after the restless night of sleep you'd gotten, far too concerned about fixing your issues and getting back to this very spot.

it's why when you guys wake up hours later, the winter sun already long gone, he asks you to sleepover.

"please, baby," he whines, his voice still deep from sleep and rendering you completely unable to say no. "i need you, tonight. i wanna wake up to you."

you bite your lip at his uncharacteristically sweet words, smiling as you place a peck on his cheek. "you said the l word five hours ago and you've turned into a sap," you tease.

and any other day, he wouldn't allow you to get away with that. but he's feeling far too lucky and sentimental tonight, still half convinced you're gonna turn around and say never mind.

but of course, you don't. instead you agree to sleep over and wiggle excitedly, jumping up to see if he has any popcorn for a movie marathon you guys just have to have.

and at a new personal record, it takes you both until twenty minutes into the third movie to completely abandon it in exchange for a heated make out. you're laid out below him in just his t-shirt, moaning at the feeling of him kissing down your neck and rubbing at your exposed thighs. you push him backwards when it takes him too long to touch you where you want him to, straddling him with ease before you, without hesitance, pull his shirt over your head.

his eyes widen for a second, thrown by the action, before you press your lips back on his. you both are eventually only in underwear, his hardness right under your soaked thong as you rub against him purposefully.

"i-i'm ready, yeosang."

the boy's eyes widen at your words, immediately shooting up like you aren't riding over his leaking cock and making his body pulse with arousal.

"what?" he asks breathlessly, looking over your flushed body and messy hair. "are-are you sure?"

"yes," you tell him eagerly, "i promise."

"baby, if this is because we said i love you it doesn't mean we-"

"it's because i want you to fuck me, yeosang," you tell him, hazy eyes looking right at him as you do so. and that's all he needs to shut off the tv and throw you over his shoulder.

you giggle and smack his back until he throws you down on the bed, pulling at his boxers until his cock springs out of them and his body hovers over yours. he presses a deep kiss to your mouth before he trails down to your hickie-covered neck, licking over each and every one before he latches on to your nipple.

you cry out at the feeling, more wetness pooling between your thighs as you whine his name.

"gotta wait, baby," he says, moving to the other and causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan. "we're gonna do this slow." and slow it was, his lips inching himself further and further down your body until he was finally face to face with your core.

he rubbed his finger over the wet patch, humming in satisfaction when he hears your breathy sigh and quickly takes the waistband between his fingers. you feel yourself exposed to the cold air before his mouth attaches to your clit, your cries and moans of his name only getting louder the more he eats you out.

he sticks a finger in you to stretch you before adding another one, curling them just moments before the flicking and lapping of his tongue makes you scream out as an orgasm rips through your body.

he gives you a second to catch your breath before he's hovering over you again, taking you by the wrists and putting your hands above your head. "are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks gently, bending down to kiss you again. "we don't have to."

"i'm sure," you say, nodding your head with your flushed face and glossy eyes. you can still feel how wet and ready you are for him. "please."

you remember him taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers as he entered you, the slight sting causing you tighten your hold on him. but then the pain passes and you're whining out again, getting off solely on the feel of him stretching you and his loud grunts echoing through the bedroom.

neither of you hear how the headboard starts smacking against the wall nor the way your moans and grunts and groans get louder and louder as the smacks get more persistent.

you only remember crying each others names at the same time, the feeling of him releasing inside of you the final straw in causing your eyes to roll back into your head. you're slightly aware of him pulling out of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, leaving the bedroom to get a wet cloth and a glass of water.

"are you hurt, love?" you hear him ask, wincing only at the surprise of the warm towel between your thighs.

"no," you tiredly mumble, "good. re-really good." you smile lazily when you hear his laugh bounce off the walls, the bed dipping before his arms wrap around your waist.

"you're right," he mumbles into your skin, loud smacks of his lips kissing you causing you to laugh softly. "really good."

you turn in his hold and smile up at him, mumbling your last "i love you" before your face falls into his chest and sleep finally takes over your body. he mumbles his response over and over again, even when you're sleeping and completely unaware of it.

because he loves you and you love him and it's the first night he's peacefully fallen asleep, with a smile on his face, in this usually very cold, very dark bedroom.

(part 27)