#and I PROMISE the Christmas fic will be up during the first new year week. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babeyun · 27 days ago

Text

the same heart ☆ n.r

synopsis: navigating the beginning of your first relationship is proving to be most heartwarming, including the list of firsts - particularly, your first kiss. genre: established relationship au, slight angst, fluff. pairing: boyfriend!riki x fem!reader word count: 4.2k rating: pg-15. warnings: swearing, use of petnames (baby, pretty, pretty girl, babe, etc.), that's about it LOL. listen to: those eyes - new west ; yellow - coldplay ; heart - dawn ; sparks - coldplay ; i adore you, dear - dwen author's note: as per usual, we've got another birthday fic! figuring out what to write took me a few moments but i will always pull through. happiest birthday to our riki! i love you, little guy.

Things between you and your boyfriend were slightly awkward.

Granted, you'd only made it official a week and a half ago – but something about the way he didn't hold your hand made you feel a bit confused. The way he never got too close if you were over at his dorm for a movie night, the way he'd hug you loosely as he dropped you off at home after a date or just dropping by to check on you. The way he'd gently reject your advances at public affection, opting to smile apologetically as he ruffled your hair.

The way he hadn't kissed you yet, despite the amount of time you spent together, the many dates and what he thought were his unnoticed longing glances.

You were truly in no rush. You knew that this was something new for the two of you, the first relationship either of you had ever been in. You met a year ago, at a record shop shortly after your eighteenth birthday. He may not be into prolonged skinship or public displays of affection, but he flirted with you like it was nobody's business. He poked fun at you as you blushed at his compliments, eager to make you smile and eventually, you allowed his charms to make him a little spot in your heart.

So despite not being outwardly physically affectionate, he had a way with words that made your cheeks hot and your chest flutter. He never stopped flirting with you, even during the many dates he took you on – even with the onlookers, he never minded. Murmurs of pretty girl and gorgeous as he directed your attention to things or simply didn't feel like calling your name, careful maneuvers through crowded areas with his hand ghosting over the small of your back, playful pinches to your cheeks.

Your first date had been very different than you'd expected – the two of you simply perused a farmers market that was a few miles out of the city. He bought you flowers and lunch, and the two of you got to know each other better over stalls upon stalls of jewelry and fine linens, fresh fruit and chopped vegetables ready to be juiced. You'd fully expected him to want to kiss you as he dropped you home, but he only blushed as you made the move. His fingers pinched to your cheek as he stopped you with a soft shake of his head.

"Next time, promise." Next time lingered with a bit of tension, that date being the Christmas light show that came to town every year. He bought the tickets, he picked you up. The two of you opted to share a hot cocoa after seeing how big the cups were, and your lipstick stained his lips a muted berry color. You took pictures at a few trees, and this was the date that soft-launched your flourishing relationship on social media – him posting a picture of you staring at a pink tree with white lights and you posting a picture of a Polaroid a vendor took of you for a dollar.

But still, even after several perfect opportunities, there was no kiss. He dropped you off at home, letting you know he had a good time and wanted to see you again before the year ended. You nodded, and lingered at your door with a pointed look. He bid you a goodnight and you disappointedly said it back, slinking into your house with a dejected look.

The next date was unfortunately after the New Year – you'd gotten sick and he felt awful, stopping by several times to bring you soup and cold medicine. Your mother met him then, and told you that he'd make a great boyfriend – you'd huffed in response, muttering that he didn't even want to hold your hand. Your mother sighed and told you those things took time, to be patient, to be understanding. You slept on it, knowing it would be worth the wait but still feeling a bit undesired.

The date after your cold subsided was one inside – bowling and arcade games. You beat him by a landslide, your last roll a perfect strike. He complained the entire time the two of you wandered around the rest of the arcade, and only stopped when you pulled him into a photo booth. Your poses were of a shy couple just learning to be together, and you were honest with him – you wanted to kiss in one of the pictures. He looked hesitant, offering an alternative almost immediately and you reluctantly agreed – the last photo being of him kissing your cheek gently. He dropped you off that night with another press of his lips to your warmed skin, and a warm apology that you accepted quietly.

You felt your heart warm when you saw the photo strip hanging from his rearview mirror the next time he picked you up, a hole punched in the white border and a soft pink string looped through it. So much so, that you let it go. You stopped asking, but he continued to press gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead throughout the rest of your dates, accumulating to almost eighty dates within eleven months – you never went more than four days without seeing him in some way or another.

And yet, despite the flirty words, his touch remained reserved. Through eleven months, he swiped your hair out of your face, he continued to pinch your cheeks between his fingers. He kissed your cheeks occasionally, usually on the drop-off or spontaneously every once in a while. He upgraded slowly to ruffling your hair, tying your shoelaces, zipping up your coat. He was sweet, attentive, coy and he made it known he was deeply interested in you.

It'd been almost a year to the date of meeting when he asked you to be his girlfriend during the first snow of the season. The two of you had snuck out to a park late that night, and he was admiring the way you hung upside down from the monkey bars, before he offered to help you get down. You agreed, asking if he'd be willing to get something warm.

You wound up in a little hole-in-the-wall ramen shop the two of you had gone to during one of your first dates. You recounted it, remembering how you'd burned your tongue on the broth and he'd sprinkled sugar in your mouth, stating he'd seen it somewhere. It hadn't worked but it was funny and you shared a laugh, when he cleared his throat and said he had something serious to tell you.

"Are you okay?" Your worried tone startled him, the way your brows tugged down and your eyes grew filled with concern. He nodded quickly, "I'm fine, I just…sorry, this is hard for me." "It's okay. I'm here." You reached for his hand, but quickly retracted it. He shook his head, reaching for your hands and running his thumbs over your knuckles. "I really, really like you, Y/N." Oh no, you'd thought. He's going to dump me and we're not even together.

The very thought had made your eyes well with tears, his silence deafening as he stared at your hands. You wore a ring he'd bought you at a fair on one of your dates, the dragon egg-like stone shimmering in the low light of the shop when he finally looked back at you. His eyes widened at the sight of you blinking back tears, his hands quickly moving to cradle your face.

"Oh baby, don't cry. What's wrong?" His concern only made your heart sink deeper, the pet name he'd never used before flying over your head as your fingers circled his wrists, the metal of his watch cold against your fingertips.

"If you're going to dump me–"

"Dump you? No, no, pretty. I wanted to make this official, I just…I'm sorry, I'm so bad at this–"

Your cheeks heated beneath his fingers, your tears blurring your vision as you looked at him. You blinked, a few tears sliding down your face as he tried to wipe them away.

"You what?" He sighed, his cheeks coated in a bright pink blush as he cleared his throat. "I…want to be your boyfriend." You only looked at him, before letting out a shaky breath. "You are bad at this."

"Is that a no?" He asked meekly, and you swatted at his arms. "You're so bad at asking things! I'm crying, Riki!" "Baby, I'm sorry!" He laughed softly, holding your wrists in his hands. "I didn't know how to ask and I was too nervous to ask Jake. He's too involved in our relationship as it is." Riki rolled his eyes as you registered the pet name, your lip jutting out in a pout as you whined. "You called me baby."

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he thought about it. "Haven't I been calling you that? I swear I have."

You scoffed, "Must've been one of your other girls." He smirked, "Which one?" He didn't manage to dodge the soft smack you landed on his thigh, a pout on his lips as he rubbed his leg. "You want to be my boyfriend but you talk about other girls, we both know I'm the only one hitting your line up." "All the more reason to let me be your boyfriend! C'mon, pretty! I'll be the best boyfriend ever, I'll even buy your mom flowers like I did that one time when she was sick!" He folded his hands together as if praying, making you snort as you wiped your face of stray tears. "What took you so long?" He huffed, "I just wanted to make sure you wanted to be with me. Every time I see you I feel like I'm about to throw up." "Riki…did you just call me ugly?" You chided, and his eyes widened as he shook his head quickly, his hands cradling your face. "What? No! You're the prettiest girl ever, please–" "Calm down, you big baby. I guess you can be my boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, and his eyes widened as he leaned closer into your space. "Really?!" "Yes, really."

The night ended with him walking you home, practically vibrating out of his own skin as he held your hand tightly the entire way. It'd given you a lot of comfort, but you didn't mention it as he dropped you off at home, your mother waiting on the porch with her robe on and an angry look on her face. She ushered you inside and you were grounded for three days before she decided it wasn't the worst thing in the world – specifically when Riki appeared with the biggest bouquet of flowers you'd ever seen and the softest pout known to man.

She allowed him in and you had a movie night in your bedroom, before he promptly kissed your cheek goodnight and went home.

Fast forward a few days, the Christmas light show was back in town for the year. Riki bought the tickets, picked you up and you shared yet another comically large cup of hot cocoa, your lipstick a wine red this year. He held your hand gently, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he held you close to him. You scoured the different figurines this year, your eyes caught by the enormous lovebird display – two swans made by champagne-colored lights and formed into a heart by their necks.

You lingered a bit at it, letting go of Riki's hand to get a closer look. He took a few photos discreetly, before eventually joining your side and moving your hair carefully out of your face. "Something on your mind, baby?" He asked gently, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. You shook your head, smiling at him softly. "It's silly." "Mmh, nothing is silly if you're thinking so hard about it. Talk to me, pretty." He taps your temple, and you shrug. "It's okay. I'm in no rush." "No rush to what? Stop being so cryptic, you know it freaks me out. It's like you're plotting something." He pinches your cheek between his knuckles softly, and you roll your eyes as you swat his hand away. "You know, it's been almost a year since we met and you still haven't kissed me?" He doesn't meet your eyes as you say this, opting to look at the swans in front of you. "Mmh." He nods, before looking at his feet, nudging a bit of gravel with the tip of his boot. You calmly loop your arm with his, sliding your hand into his pocket and intertwining your fingers. He glances down at you, a soft blush on his cheeks that you want to attribute to the biting wind. "Why?" You ask, and he tongues his cheek before shrugging. "It makes me nervous, I guess." "Nervous?" Your voice is an echo of him, albeit slightly concerned. "Yeah. You make me nervous. I literally almost threw up the night I asked you to be my girlfriend." "Correction, you asked to be my boyfriend." You say pointedly, and he scoffs. "Me being your boyfriend makes you my girlfriend." "You sure like calling me your girlfriend, huh?" Your arm nudges him, and he huffs in embarrassment, looking away. You lean your head on his shoulder, staring back up at the swans. A cliché example of lovers, you know, but a lovely one nonetheless.

"You know I don't mind waiting, right? I'm sure we will eventually." You murmur, and he sighs.

"I know, I'm sorry. I want to, I promise. I just…"

You glance at him, the way he chews on his lip anxiously as he trails off makes your stomach sink.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, we don't have to keep talking about this." You pat his chest, an apologetic smile on your lips as he meets your eyes. They're serious, a look you'd only ever seen on him a few times. You drop your hand from his chest and he moves the two of you down the path.

You see a few more displays, taking pictures within all the decorated trees and once more paying the same vendor from last year for a Polaroid. You both smile and it goes into Riki's wallet. "For safekeeping," He'd whispered into your hair as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

The two of you wandered out of the show hand in hand, and Riki offers to stop somewhere for dinner before he drops you off at home. It's routine, the way he opens your door, the way he buckles your seatbelt in for you. The way he hands you the aux and you play jazz fusion, Tutu by Miles Davis filling his car the way it always has after a date.

"I've never kissed anyone." He murmurs as you reach the first stoplight out of the show. His fingers are wrapped loosely around the bottom of the steering wheel, and you nod, looking at him. "Me either, it's no big deal. We'll learn, when the time comes." "It's not that I don't want to. You know that, right?" His voice is shaky as he flicks on his turn signal, and you nod again. "I'm sure you want to, but there really is no rush. I'm not the only one who's waiting, you know? We went on eighty dates, Riki. We've got all the time in the world." Your fingers toy with his earrings, before you card your fingers through his hair. "It's just you and me, yeah?" "Yeah." He's quiet, and you know it's weighing on him as the two of you make the drive to your favorite diner. The two of you share an appetizer, his head resting on your shoulder as you talk about your new part-time job and how you'd miss popping by the record store to bring him lunch. He listened intently as the food came and went, only responding softly to any questions you asked him.

It weighed on you when he was quiet on the way to your house, and how softly he bid his goodbye with a kiss to your hairline and his arm around your shoulders. "Sleep well, baby." Your heart felt heavy in your chest as the next few days went by and he seemed distant. You both planned another date for the arcade, and agreed he'd pick you up after his shift at the record store. You dressed casually, one of his old t-shirts and a pair of black jeans. You wore heavy boots to brace the cold, and nearly tripped over your own feet when he knocked on your front door

"Coming!" You called, your mother poking her head out of the kitchen upon hearing you yell. "Leaving already, honey?" "Yeah, date night." You reply sheepishly, unlocking the door with fumbling fingers and your coat half off your body, and opening it to reveal your boyfriend holding yet another bouquet of flowers. Your eyes were wide, as you stopped pulling your coat on. "For my mom?" You nod, and he shakes his head.

"For you. I'm sorry for being distant these past few days, it wasn't my intention and I'm sure it made you feel some type of way. I should've spoken to you about my feelings, and I know flowers aren't nearly enough but I hope it's a start?" He said meekly, and you scoff out a soft laugh, nodding as you take the flowers.

"Riki, it's okay. I know it's a sensitive topic." You smile apologetically, taking the flowers and turning on your heel. "I'll put these in my room, I'll be right back. Come inside." He doesn't say anything, just gives you a curt nod as he steps inside your house, closing the door and greeting your mother warmly. You quickly walk up the stairs, taking the cellophane off the flowers and setting them carefully in the vase you had sitting on your dresser from past bouquets he'd given you. You'll fill them with water later, you think, as you barrel back down the stairs. You see your boyfriend deep in thought as he and your mother speak, and you don't eavesdrop as you clear your throat. She stops talking, before giving him a warm smile and bidding you a good date night. You thank her, tell her you'll be home before the streetlights come on and a quick love you, bye!

"Let's zip this up, don't want you to get sick." Riki doesn't let you off your porch without zipping your coat up, grabbing your hand as you both step off. "Do you think you'll kick my ass bowling this time, too?" "I'm sure of it." You grin.

And you do. You take the lead within three frames, your boyfriend clearly distracted as he watches you roll strike after strike. You play three full games, his pout only getting deeper and deeper as you win each one.

"This is so unfair, how'd you get so good anyway?" He pouts as he slides a few coins into an air hockey table, and you shrug as you score the first point within the first few seconds. He gapes, and you just laugh as he, once more, loses this game.

The night goes smoothly, both of you scoring your wins and cutting your losses sorely. You both make faces at each other the moment one of you loses, but all is fair in love and arcade games when the night ends in the photo booth, your legs across your boyfriend's lap as he rests his hands on your knees. You fix his hair out of his eyes, the shaggy bangs tickling the bridge of his nose as you coo.

"Okay, how does my hair look? Frizzy?" You run your fingers through it and he shakes his head, watching as you dig your lipstick out of your purse. It's another deep red, and he feels his stomach fill with butterflies as you wipe the corners of your lips. "You look pretty." "You always say that." You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat as he smiles, softly flicking your nose. "You always look pretty, baby." You huff, facing the camera and tucking your hair behind your ears before clearing your throat. "Smile first, right? That's what we did last time." "Yeah, that's cool. We can do….the cat thing? For the second one." He holds his fingers in two upside-down Vs over his hair, and you laugh, nodding. "Sure, sure." The camera begins to count down as you press the red button, and you smile as it flashes the two of you. You both scrunch your noses, blinking rapidly as you maneuver your hands to fit in the frame for the fifteen seconds it gives you. "Smile, babe." You say through gritted teeth, and he does just that as the camera flashes again.

"Shit, what now? Uh…" "Kiss me." He whispers, and you nearly snap your neck to face him. "What?!" "Kiss me." His hand moves to cradle your cheek, and you grab his wrist, hearing the camera start counting from ten. "Are you sure? We don't have to–" "I've wanted to kiss you for a year. Kiss. Me." He insists, and your heads both turn as the camera boasts five…four…

"I'm nervous." You admit, and he nods. "Me too. Just trust me, baby." Three…two…

You both breathe in shakily, before softly connecting your lips as the camera flashes brightly. You don't move away as the camera begins its last countdown from fifteen, instead you lean your forehead against his. His eyes peer up at you, and you feel a giggle erupt through you as you press your lips all over his face in chaste kisses. His cheeks grow hot under your lips, and the camera only continues it's countdown as your lipstick stamps all over his rosy cheeks.

"Smile for the camera." He mumbles, pressing his lips to your cheek as the camera reaches two, and smiles bashfully as it flashes one last time. The two of you watch the two strips pop out, and you reach for them. You hand him his, your other hand softly stroking his cheek as you stare at the pictures.

"We're cute." You nod, and he only smiles sheepishly. "Yeah. Was it okay? The kiss, I mean?" "Yeah. And we have it now, forever." You smile as you tuck the photo strip into your purse. He nods, clearing his throat, hoping you don't feel the way his heart skips a beat at the sound of you subconsciously admitting to a forever with him. "So…dinner? On me." "Shit, you have lipstick all over your face." You wince, and he shrugs. "Call it a perk, I guess. You can kiss me again to make up for it." "You're not slick, you know." You roll your eyes as the two of you exit the booth, and you thumb at the lipstick on his nose, only successful in smearing it. "I'm serious, I'm only taking payment in kisses now. So…pay up." "Shut up." You press your lips to his chastely, before shoving your purse over your shoulder as he grabs your hand, making you face him as you tug on your coat. "Seriously, we can stop by a pharmacy and get something to wipe your face." "No, these are my battle scars. I fought relentlessly against my urge to kiss you for a year, I deserve to celebrate this win." He scoffs as he zips up your coat, and you only scoff out a laugh, slipping your fingers in his. "Whatever, loser." And you don't say anything else about it. Not when your waitress stares at him a little too hard as she takes your order, not when your mother gapes at him and you as he drops you off, and certainly not when he kisses you goodnight, a murmur of I'll see you later against your lips before you slip inside your house.

You flop onto your bed after your shower, assuming your boyfriend has long been asleep as you reminisce about the events of the day. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you cover your face with a squeal, reaching for your phone – only to see a notification that your boyfriend posted something on his Instagram.

You open it, seeing a slideshow of photos – one of you in front of the champagne swans at the light show earlier that month, one of the new photo strip hanging alongside the old one in his car, and one of you at the beginning of the entire ordeal. You're sitting at the farmers market, your eyes casted away from the camera as you blushed, likely at something Riki had said. You don't remember him taking that photo, but it doesn't matter as you listen carefully to the song he'd put over it – the melodic sound of Heart by Dawn.

You glance at the caption with a thundering heart, your eyes welling with tears as you read. @/nishimura05: two sides of the same heart, and mine that only beats for you. your patience is beyond me, but i am eternally grateful for the man you make me want to become. thinking of you, always.

2K notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 6 months ago

Text

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

1K notes · View notes

jocelynscrazyideas · 7 months ago

Text

dancing in the dark | Jack Hughes x Reader

Inspired by the song dancing in the dark by rhianna

~ memories ~

Summary: jhughes and y/n spend time together at the Michigan home when the rain cuts the power out.

Warnings: language, rain, power outages, drunk, strictly only kisses!

a/n: I met this guy, he def doesn’t like me, but I’m so delulu to the point I think I can change his mind.

💬: smut/nico of Luca Fantilli fic? Maybe an F1 blurb?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jacks shoulder has finally healed. I’ve been having to take care of him for the last week. Quinn and Luke have been out at concerts and Jack and I have been tagging along- but from a walking distance.

The two have been running around like little toddlers, often Jack has chosen to sit around or walk behind them and admire the fun.

The brothers had attended the Zach Bryan concert a few nights ago but I chose to stay home. I love ZB, but hearing people scream at 12:30 am, isn’t my thing.

Rain storms are common in Michigan, and since summer is finally here rain is expected. With my extra free time taht isn’t taken up from jack’s shoulder I have been cleaning.

Deep cleaning is my new favorite hobby. My room is spotless, and Jack’s room is de-cluttered. I’ve known the Hughes since Quinn and I were seven. I’m four days older than Quinn. I use rank everytime the brothers get in arguments, I use my wisdom of a few days to break up the fights they could get into.

~ memory pt.1 ~

About 15 years ago we were at the Toronto home during the summer. I flew up to Canada to spend time with the Hughes, I brought presents for them- being I missed Christmas and all of their birthdays. “Look at the water guns!” Luke screams at me. I drop the water guns and hug Luke.

Luke’s five year old body wraps around me and I find myself laughing. Quinn and I are matching at the age of nine, and Jack was around seven.

Jack picked up a big box that I filled with gift cards, a new mini stick, and a huge water blaster. He opened the box enough to see all of the prizes and he shuts it and sets it down. He hugs my shoulders as he towers over Luke’s body from under me.

Quinn takes me from behind, I remember feeling the warmth of the three boys. I’ve really known them forever, my mom is bestfriends with Ellen, so I’ve just naturally been born into the family.

I felt safe. Ensured and promised a warm, clean and welcoming home with the Hughes.

Quinn opens a box, it’s filled with cards and water guns, there are multiple water balloons. I purposely remember buying that bag full of balloons thinking in Quinn.

~ end of pt.1 ~

“Y/n! How you’ve been?” Jack walks into my room drunk. It’s summer I let him drink his body away.

“Nice beer belly.” I mock him as I get off of my bed and rub the tummy as if I were pregnant.

“Thanks, worked hard for it tonight.” He slurs out. “Jack let’s get you to bed okay?” Rain stars to put onto the house.

I have a balcony in my room. I immediately run over to the glass sliding door to close it. Rain gets in my face as I close the windows and the door in my room. “Nice rain.” Jack mocks me as he walks out of my room.

“Where’s the other two?” I yell out from the top of the stairs, Jack runs into the kitchen- he had ran down the stairs to stop talking to me.

“Jack!” I yell. I give up. So I close my door and run down the stairs. I see Jack in the fridge.

“You hungry? Where is Ellen?” I ask. “I dunno.” I responds. I hold his shoulders as I stand on my tip toes, in peering over his shoulders just enough to see what he’s looking for.

“Yummy in my tummy!” He chants, “Jack.” I massage his shoulders.

I strictly turn his head towards mine. He leans into my chest. He rests his head onto my collar bones as he mumbles a song.

“Come.” I motion his body. We walk to the stairs. I sit him in the first step and I run back to close the fridge and the pantry door he probably rummaged through.

I turn around to look for Jack and he’s disappeared. “Jack?” I look around for him. Lights go off. Thunder claps at me, lighting floods into the sky. “Jack?” I get more nervous.

~ memory pt.2 ~

We head for the hose, I fill up Luke’s nerf water gun and te water balloons. I take my shoes off to run freely around the backyard of the Hughes household. Jim is grilling on the deck outside. Ellen and my mom are talking in the kitchen inside watching us play. Quinn fills his gun up, and I take my gun I already filled from behind my back.

I shoot jack in the eye, Luke and I team up in the other two boys. Their backs facing us as they both re-fill their guns, Luke fires at them. Someone gets hurt.

Ugh.

“Hey!” I yell out over their arguments towards eachother. Quinn yells at them to listen to me. Jim looks over at us to make sure us says something smart and not stupid.

“It’s an accident! Luke and I took our chances, Jack if you’re going to get mad at Luke- you should get mad at me too. I told him to fire.”

And done. Problem solved.

~ end of pt.2 ~

I left my phone upstairs in my room. I don’t have a flashlight. “JACK!” I scream, I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black. I have no sense of human presence in the room. “Jack please, I’m scared.” I whisper as I walk silent towards the living room. I sit on the couch that faces away from the kitchen. The TV glimmers on. “What the fuck.” I whisper.

“Hey.” Jack taps my shoulder. I jump.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.” I yell at him. Jack laughs. “You wnat some?” He picks up a bottle of alcohol. “Where…” I start. I look over at the pantry I had closed.

The TV light shines and lights up the main floor of the home. Michigan storms terrify me.

The pantry door is open. The Hughes are rich, inside of the pantry full of snacks is a room full of liquor. “How were you so quiet?” I asked Jack.

“I dunno.” He takes his hand and places it onto my hip. He pulls me back to lay down with him. I ask him to dance. Drunk dancing is always the best. “Sure.” He gets up takes my hand and we slow dance to sound of rain.

“Do you have your phone?” I ask him. Jacks hair flips into my face as he looks down into his back pocket of his jeans. He takes it out and plays a random song.

Perfect.

He jump up and down. Side to side swaying, hips are shaking, Jack screams the songs out. He hugs me to stabilize himself. He smells of heavy cologne and beer.

We dance until his legs give out. “I’m tired” he says.

I help jack up the stairs as I hold onto the bottle of liquor he had taken. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk.” I laugh. As we rest into my bed. “You can sleep in here for tonight okay?” Jack lays on my chest.

I would have gotten weirded out in how close we’ve gotten- especially because Jack and I have had something before, but my mom instincts had came out. I let him lay on me until he almost fell asleep.

I hold him onto of me so he doesn’t fall off my queen sized bed. I slide out under him, i take his shoes off and his hat off. I set them off into a bean bag I’ve had since we were kids. I’ve had this room for years, and I’ve kept it the same.

“I’m not drunk!” He giggles out again. His smile makes my stomach tingle. He keeps himself awake by talking to me.

We had a deep conversation, and he laughed out. “I’m not drunk y/n! We should check!” He laughs.

He holds my jawline. Connecting our lips together. He kisses me as if we were still in our relationship in 2017.

“I love you.” Jack laughs out after pulling away from our kiss.

Quinn walks into the house. “Y/n! Luke and i are home! Where is Jack his shoes aren’t down here!” Quinn yells out from downstairs.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes #jack rowden hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x y/n #rain dance #njd #nj devils #jack hughes fluff

190 notes · View notes

hellfirenacht · 8 months ago

Text

Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit.

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign.

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling.

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music.

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once.

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance.

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone.

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in.

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith.

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush.

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right?

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with.

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied.

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops..

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town.

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else.

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans.

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened.

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie.

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway.

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did.

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else.

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him.

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew.

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well.

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour.

The hour could not go any slower.

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned.

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone.

“Steve, I’m serious!”

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.”

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it.

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone.

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson.

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook.

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook.

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice.

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned.

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera.

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?”

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.”

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would.

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise.

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar.

Where did you know this guy from?

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater.

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd.

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe.

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off.

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?! He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you?

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video.

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing-

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people.

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker.

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together.

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him.

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened.

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt.

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it.

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in.

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later.

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically.

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.”

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly.

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.”

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded.

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.”

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in.

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!”

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly.

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead.

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members.

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.”

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled.

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours.

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.”

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him.

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain.

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next.

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly.

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!”

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it.

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!”

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand, and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie.

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.”

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled.

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.”

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second.

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him.

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?”

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.”

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.”

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show.

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.”

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van.

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast.

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone.

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes.

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand.

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much.

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him.

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin.

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged.

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.”

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet.

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot.

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky.

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way.

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.”

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side.

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes.

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.”

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well.

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled.

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant.

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment.

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him.

“Chris Morrison?!”

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Next Chapter

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

212 notes · View notes

goldengalore · 2 years ago

Text

Scandal

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry faces the biggest scandal of his career when a popular influencer claims that the singer forcefully entered his home and attacked him. Y/N sets on a mission to clear Harry’s name.

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: anxiety, physical violence, mentions of domestic violence, nonconsensual kiss, cheating, toxic masculinity, angst, smut (a bit of domrry and subrry)

A/N: Lots of protective!harry in this one. Pay attention to the warnings. Characters make some serious (false) accusations towards H. If anything makes you uncomfortable, click away! Otherwise, enjoy this angsty fic :)

***

Y/N doesn’t like parties.

Even when she was a little girl and her parents would invite all their extended family over to celebrate her birthday, her tiny self would cry and complain until one of her parents scolded her to shut her up. As she grew older, she developed methods of alleviating the discomfort brought on by social events—the main one involving alcohol.

Calling her an alcoholic would be inaccurate because the only time she ever really drinks is during social situations. In fact, she can go for weeks and months without drinking if she doesn’t have to attend a social event. Still, she knows it’s not healthy nor very effective. All it does is reinforce her belief that she can’t socialize without using alcohol as a crutch, worsening her anxiety in the long run.

Recently, she has decided to start overcoming this habit by completely avoiding alcohol before and during social situations. At first, she wanted to limit herself to one drink, but she knows that the suppressing effect on her overactive nervous system will be enough to lure her into having another, then another… then another.

Tonight is her first chance to put her new rule into practice. It’s her best friend Rosie’s birthday. Her fiance, Colin, threw her a surprise party at his house. Now, Y/N may despise parties, especially the big, extravagant ones that Colin likes to throw, but she is willing to sacrifice a part of her sanity for the people she loves, like Rosie.

Because they’re in LA and Colin is an influencer, most of the people he invited are also influencers of some sort. Y/N warned Harry about this, but he still chose to come along, much to her relief. Surprisingly, aside from a few people asking for a picture with him, he has managed to keep a low profile. He also knows about Y/N’s new rule for herself and has agreed to help her abide by it, even going as far as not drinking himself, though she told him that wasn’t necessary.

Now, while they’re conversing with a small group of people—or at least Harry converses while Y/N mostly just listens and nods and tries not to think about how badly she wants to go home—someone offers Harry a drink and she notices him hesitate for the briefest second before saying no.

“H, you can have a drink,” she tells him in his ear a minute later. “Seriously, I don’t mind. I promise you’ll still be the best boyfriend in the world by the end of the night.”

He smirks. “I’m going to need that on a mug or a t-shirt or something, you know, just so I don’t forget.”

“Fine, you’re getting that for Christmas this year, but that’s all you’re getting.”

He places a hand on his chest. “I would gladly accept that as my only gift.”

She rolls her eyes at his dramatics, smiling all the while.

“All right, I’ll grab a drink then, if you insist,” he says.

“Good. I’m going to use the washroom. Meet you back here in five?”

“Deal.”

They both go their separate ways—Harry to the bar and Y/N to the washroom. When she finds it, she opens the door and instantly regrets not knocking first. Next to the toilet is a girl kneeling on the floor with a guy’s dick in her mouth. And not just any girl, but a well-known Instagram model whose face Y/N has seen many times before.

“Shit, sorry! Sorry!” Y/N blurts out, quickly pulling the door shut. It’s only after the door closes that her brain registers who the guy was. He had his back to her, but the dirty blonde hair messily styled around his head gave him away.

It was Colin. Rosie’s Colin.

At first, she stays frozen in place, too shocked to move, but then she sees the doorknob twisting from the other side and suddenly snaps out of it. Her legs start taking her away from the washroom.

“Y/N!” she hears Colin shout from behind her.

She walks faster, pushing through the crowds of people, with no plan for where she’s headed. Eventually, she ends up out in the backyard by Colin’s pool, thinking she must have lost him somewhere in the crowd. But then the glass door slides opens and out comes Colin. He closes the door before walking over to her. The light from the pool reflects off his pale face. His blue eyes are wide and frantic.

“Look,” he starts, “what you saw back there, it wasn’t— We weren’t— It wasn’t—” He pauses before starting again, “She’s just a friend.”

She scoffs at his lame defense. “Do all your friends give you blowjobs?”

“She wasn’t giving me a blowjob.”

“Oh, so your dick just fell into her mouth by accident, is that it? How stupid do you think I am, Colin?”

In the time she has known him—which hasn’t been for very long, since he and Rosie only started dating eight months ago and got engaged three months into their relationship—she always got the impression that he views her as a naive little girl. People often make assumptions about Y/N based on her quiet, reserved nature, like that she is uptight or that she knows nothing about sex or the world. It never fails to annoy her.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he says slowly, patronizingly, which only contradicts his statement. “You just… You think you saw something you didn’t see.”

Her eyes narrow. “That sentence doesn’t even make sense.”

She can see him struggling to find more ways to gaslight her. When he realizes he can’t, he just says, “You can’t tell Rosie.”

She doesn’t reply, doesn’t feel the need to. And Colin clearly doesn’t like that. He begins walking towards her, eyes darkening dangerously. She takes a few steps backward, thinking he’ll stop, but he doesn’t, not until she’s right at the edge of the pool with no more room to move back. He looms over her, all six feet of him.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” he asks, his icy gaze boring into her.

She’s not sure where her boldness comes from in that moment, but all she says in response is, “Fuck you.”

Suddenly, he grips the back of her neck with both hands and smashes his lips against hers forcefully, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Y/N recoils so hard that she would have fallen back into the water if his hand wasn’t gripping her neck so tightly, holding her against him. She lifts her right foot off the ground and swings her leg back before driving the toe of her boot into his shin as hard as possible.

He grunts in pain and releases her, shouting, “Stupid bitch!”

She sidesteps him so that she’s no longer balancing on the edge of the pool and vigorously rubs her mouth with the back of her hand.

Clutching his shin, he pins her with a menacing glare. “You’re not going to say a word to Rosie,” he says between gritted teeth. Then he places his foot on the ground and limps back into the house.

Y/N doesn’t notice she’s shaking until he’s gone. She stays outside a little while longer to gather herself and suppress the nauseating feeling induced by having Colin’s lips on hers. Then she heads back inside to find Harry.

He has a drink in his hand now, and he’s talking to a couple of regular, non-influencer-looking people. As he lifts up his arm, she snuggles into his side, wrapping her arm around his back, resolving to stay there for the remainder of the night.

She will tell him what happened. Just not now. Not with Colin watching her from across the room with Rosie under his own arm, as if he didn’t just cheat on the poor girl and then proceed to kiss her best friend.

She will also tell Rosie what happened. Colin can try to intimidate her into silence, but it won’t work. Rosie will find out. Y/N will make sure of it. She just won’t unleash the devastating news on Rosie’s birthday with all these influencers surrounding them, eagerly awaiting some drama to go down so they can use it as “content.”

The party is nowhere close to done when Y/N and Harry decide to head home, but they’re both spent and ready to crawl into bed. They find Rosie to say their goodbyes, and Y/N tries to rush the process before Colin can show up.

“Happy birthday, girlie,” she says while giving Rosie a tight hug—tighter than usual after what she discovered tonight. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Thanks for everything.”

Unfortunately, right as the two friends are pulling out of their embrace, Colin appears at Rosie’s side.

“Colin told me that you helped plan this whole thing,” says Rosie.

“Yeah, Y/N was great. Couldn’t have pulled it off without her,” Colin tells her. Then he looks at Y/N. “Thanks for keeping it a secret from this one.” He points his thumb at Rosie, laughing easily, but the threat behind his eyes as he stares at Y/N is unmistakable.

She just gives him a tight smile, resisting the urge to slap the cocky grin right off his face. Then she says to Harry, “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for having u—” Harry begins to say to Colin and Rosie, but Y/N grabs his arm and starts dragging him away before he can finish his polite farewell.

Once they’re outside, she lets go of his arm and he gives her a puzzled look.

“What was that about?” he asks as they walk to his car.

“What?”

“Seemed like you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.”

“Oh, you know how I feel about parties.” She leaves it at that for now, and luckily, he doesn’t press any further.

He’s had a couple drinks, so Y/N drives them home. As soon as they enter Harry’s warm, empty house, she says, “H, I need to tell you something.”

“Hold that thought, lovie.” He holds up his index finger. “I really need a wee.”

He dashes off to the bathroom by the stairs. Meanwhile, Y/N heads to the living room and flops down on the couch, feeling exhaustion take over her after what transpired tonight. Just as she’s thinking about how she’s going to explain everything to Harry and how he’ll react, she hears the bathroom door open.

Harry joins her on the couch and says, “Right, what did you need to tell me?”

She takes a deep breath. “Something happened at the party tonight.”

“Okay…” He swipes his hair back, gazing at her intently.

“I caught Colin cheating on Rosie with another girl.”

He raises his brows, his expression growing serious.

“After I saw it happen, I walked away and Colin followed me out to the backyard. He tried denying it, but I obviously wasn’t falling for it, so then he said I can’t tell Rosie and he…” She pauses, hesitates. The memory of the repulsive kiss makes her stomach turn again. “He grabbed me by the neck and kissed me—”

“He what?” Harry’s brows climb even higher.

“—and I kicked him in the shin and then he left. I honestly think the kiss was just him trying to make me feel small and intimidate me into not telling Rosie.”

Harry’s usual easygoing demeanour has completely evaporated. His hands curl into fists on his thighs. His jaw clenches and unclenches, as his hard gaze fixates on the coffee table in front of them.

“That piece of shit,” he mutters. “That fucking piece of shit.” He closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m going to—”

“H,” she says, placing her small hand over one of his fists, “I know you’re pissed off right now, but I need you to help me figure something out here.”

He looks at her, eyes softening. His fist opens and turns to grasp her hand. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I need to tell Rosie what happened. I’m going to do it tomorrow. I’m going to tell her what I saw in the bathroom, but I just don’t know if I should mention the part about him kissing me. She’ll already be devastated to hear that he cheated, and I feel like I’d be adding unnecessary pain by mentioning that. What would you do if you were me?”

“I would tell her everything,” he replies. “Every detail. She deserves to know exactly how much of a prick he is.”

That’s exactly what she expected him to say. Nodding, she says, “Okay. Thank you.”

His anger seems to return after that. He rubs his free hand over his jaw, shaking his head. “It’s awful, what he did to you. And Rosie. Neither of you deserve that.”

She feels so fortunate to have him in that moment. If he wasn’t at the party tonight, she’s not sure what she would have done. Surely, she would have managed one way or another, but knowing that Harry was in the house, even when Colin was cornering her out by the pool, gave her a boost of courage—something she only realized later when she found her way back to him.

Now, she scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his torso, squeezing him tightly. He squeezes her back.

“Can we go to bed? I’m exhausted,” she tells him.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

***

The following day, when Y/N informs Rosie of Colin’s infidelity, she breaks down into tears before Y/N has even finished explaining what she saw in the bathroom. Her best friend seems so distraught, sobbing and barely forming coherent sentences, that she decides not to follow Harry’s advice about mentioning the kiss.

Before Colin came along, Rosie was always an intelligent, rational human being, the type to think long and hard before making any major decisions. When he appeared in her life, it was like she lost all sense of logic and reason within a matter of weeks of knowing him. Things moved so rapidly between the couple. Y/N thought Rosie was joking when, three months into their relationship, she revealed that Colin had proposed to her and that she had said yes.

Y/N could never understand the hold that this guy had on her friend, but for the most part, it seemed harmless. Until now. Watching someone she cares so deeply about fall apart right before her eyes drives a sword through her heart.

She offers to spend the day with Rosie at her apartment, suggesting that they binge-watch some trashy reality show while munching on their favourite comfort foods, but Rosie says she needs some time alone to process everything. Respecting her wishes, Y/N reminds her that she can call anytime she needs to talk, then heads home.

That night, she’s sitting in bed with Harry, both of them immersed in their own books—him, a romance novel and her, a mystery novel—when her phone buzzes with an incoming call from Rosie.

“Hey, Ros—”

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

Rosie’s hostile greeting makes her pull the phone away from her ear for a second.

“You lied to me.”

“I— What?” Y/N’s uneasy tone draws Harry’s attention away from his novel.

“Colin told me you kissed him.”

Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach. Immediate regret settles in at not telling Rosie about the kiss. She played right into Colin’s hands. “That’s not what happened, Rosie.”

“Oh, really?” She hears Rosie let out an unamused laugh. Then she hears his voice in the background, whispering something to Rosie. Y/N’s hand digs into the bedsheets, scrunching them between her fingers. Harry reaches for her hand and pulls it into his lap.

“He kissed me,” she states. “He’s just telling you it was the other way around to cover his ass after cheating on you.”

“He never denied cheating on me. He admitted to it.”

Y/N is genuinely taken aback by this, unsure how to respond.

“He said you walked in on him in the bathroom and then you walked away. When he found you later and tried to explain himself, you came onto him and told him that if he fucked you, you wouldn’t tell me that he cheated.”

She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “And you believe that? C’mon, Ro, you are so much smarter than this.”

Once again, her ears pick up on Colin mumbling something to Rosie.

“What lies is he feeding you now?” she asks.

“He thinks we should talk in person,” says Rosie. “All three of us. I agree. I’m at his place right now. Come over and let’s hash this out.”

She closes her eyes. “Rosie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What are you so scared of, Y/N?” Colin says into the speaker now, all loud and smug and condescending.

She feels Harry’s hand squeeze hers now.

“I’m giving you a chance to explain your side of the story,” says Colin. “And maybe even apologize.”

She huffs, “Apologize?”

“For trying to get between me and Rosie. She forgave me. Maybe she’ll forgive you too. But that won’t happen if you don’t come here and talk to us.”

Y/N’s blood is boiling. How could Rosie forgive him? It makes no sense. Yet again, she finds herself baffled by Colin’s hypnotic spell on her best friend. Except this time, she is also concerned for Rosie’s safety. Because if he could persuade her to forgive him for cheating, God knows what else he can make her do with the right amount of manipulation and coercion.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll come.”

“Good girl, Y/N,” says Colin.

She almost hurls. And she knows Harry heard that too from the way his hand tightens around hers. She hangs up.

Before she can say anything, Harry states, “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t know if—”

“It’s not up for discussion, Y/N. I already know I can’t convince you to not go, so I’m going with you. That’s it.”

“Fine.” She’s too tired to argue, and if she’s honest with herself, she’s relieved that he’s coming. Colin is bigger than her and has proven that he has no respect for her boundaries. If she has to swallow her pride and admit that she needs her boyfriend there to protect her just in case, then so be it.

Harry softens when he realizes how overbearing his words sounded. “I won’t do anything, I swear,” he reassures her. “I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

She nods. “Okay.”

On the drive to Colin’s house, Y/N gives Harry a rundown of the fabricated story that Colin has planted in Rosie’s head. She also mentions that she no longer feels safe leaving Rosie with Colin.

The house looks desolate tonight, a stark contrast to the previous night when it was filled to the brim with people and music and drugs and alcohol.

Rosie is the one who opens the door for them. Her puffy, bloodshot eyes convey that she hasn’t stopped crying today. Her dark brown hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders. She seems surprised to see Harry, but amidst the surprise, Y/N detects a hint of relief as well. The same relief that Y/N felt when Harry said he was coming with her.

Rosie leads them into the kitchen where Colin is slouched in a chair at the end of the dining table, his hand wrapped around an open bottle of whiskey on the table. A sickening smirk begins to form on his face when he sees Y/N, but it falters when his gaze falls on Harry.

“Why’s he here?” he says, turning his chin up at Harry.

“It’s fine. He can stay,” says Rosie. She sits on a chair that’s already pulled out from under the table, angled towards Colin.

Y/N grabs another chair and drags it far away from the table to maintain a fair distance from Colin. Meanwhile, Harry just leans against a wall off to the side, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. He’s dressed in a blue Adidas jacket and black gym shorts that he threw on before coming here. A hair clip keeps his curls up and away from his face.

“Harry, you wanna sit?” asks Rosie.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The group stares at each other. Y/N at Rosie. Colin at Y/N. Harry at Colin.

After a prolonged silence, Rosie finally says, “Okay, who wants to start?”

“Y/N can start,” Colin answers immediately.

There’s no doubt in her mind that this is merely a tactic to convince Rosie that he has nothing to hide and that Y/N is the one who should be explaining herself.

She clears her throat and shifts in her seat, trying not to let Colin’s annoyingly persistent gaze get to her. “Okay… Well, Rosie, like I said on the phone, I never kissed Colin. He kissed me and I pushed him away and he—”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this earlier?” Rosie interjects. “When you were at my apartment this morning and you told me that he cheated, why didn’t you mention the kiss?”

“You were so upset. I didn’t want to make it worse. I should’ve told you and I regret that I didn’t, but honestly, I just didn’t want to hurt you even more.”

“How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

Y/N frowns at her. “Because we’re best friends? And we have been for years? Way longer than you’ve known him.” She glances at Colin.

“He told me the truth. The whole truth. Something I would’ve expected my so-called best friend to do.”

Y/N just sighs and leans back in her chair, silent now as her mind grasps for some way, any way to convince her friend that Colin is the liar here.

Rosie turns to Harry now. “Did you know about this?”

He nods. “Y/N told me everything when we got home last night.” He pauses before adding sincerely, “She’s telling the truth, Rosie.”

“You weren’t even there when it happened. How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know her. And you know her. And we both know she’s not like that. You can call me biased, but it’s very clear to me which of these stories is the more plausible one.”

Y/N notices a subtle shift in Rosie’s expression, as if Harry’s words have actually made her see things from a different perspective. While she’s glad that at least Harry can get through to her friend, the fact that Rosie is quicker to trust Colin or Harry over her is maddening. She and Rosie have had several conversations over the years about people not believing women unless a man backs them up. It’s rather hypocritical of her to be doing the very thing she claims to be against.

Colin, who was previously slumped in his chair with a look of indifference, sits up when he realizes that he might be losing Rosie.

“What are you even doing here, man?” he asks Harry. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I disagree.” Harry’s relaxed disposition seems to irk Colin even more. “Oh, and you should know,” continues Harry, “that neither of these women feel safe being alone around you, which says a lot about the piece of shit you are.”

“I never said I don’t feel safe around him,” Rosie argues unconvincingly.

“You don’t need to. It’s pretty obvious. And Y/N said—”

“You should really stop believing everything your whore of a girlfriend tells you,” Colin interjects.

A tense moment of silence hangs in the air before Harry pushes himself off the wall and strides over to Colin.

“Harry,” says Y/N in a warning tone, her heart speeding up as she watches Colin rise to his feet. The two men are face-to-face with only a few inches of space between them. Colin is as tall as Harry but with considerably less muscle on his body. However, that doesn’t eliminate Y/N’s concerns about her boyfriend getting hurt. “Harry,” she says again, pleadingly this time.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m not going to do anything,” he tells her, still sounding calm as ever. The only indication that Colin’s words have gotten to him is in his fists, which are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles have lost colour.

“Yeah, he’s not,” says Colin, the smugness returning. “He doesn’t want to ruin his nice guy image. Isn’t that right, Styles?”

Harry lets out a brief, unamused laugh through his nose, then steps back, turning around to go back over to the wall. As he’s walking away, Colin says, “You know, now that I think about it, I should’ve just fucked your girlfriend when I had the chance. Show her what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.”

Now that Harry is turned away from Colin, Y/N can see his entire facial expression, including the rage that swims beneath the tranquil surface. His chest rises and falls with deep, controlled breaths. His eyes find Y/N’s.

“We’re leaving,” he states firmly. “Now.”

“What are you so scared of, Styles?” Colin goads him, the same way he did to Y/N over the phone. “Worried you’re gonna end up in the news for socking me? ‘Mr. Treat People With Kindness loses it on innocent civilian.’” He cackles at his own dumb joke.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, his patience visibly diminishing.

Y/N stands and turns to Rosie. “You’re coming with us.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Losing her composure, Y/N presses her hands against the sides of her head, which is pounding at this point. “Oh my God, Rosie! What kind of hold does this guy have on you?!”

“I just want to talk to him.” She rises to her feet too.

“Why? So he can tell you more lies and manipulate you—”

“Oh, don’t act so fucking righteous, Y/N! Let’s not forget that you lied too!”

“I was trying to protect you! I’m not going to apologize for—”

“Colin, stop!” Rosie’s attention has shifted to the guys, who are now going at each other. Or at least, Colin is going at Harry with his fists, but Harry blocks each and every blow either with his arms or by ducking out of the way completely.

“C’mon, hit me!” Colin shouts desperately, swinging and missing, then swinging and missing again. “Don’t be a fucking pussy! Hit me! What are you waiting for?!”

At the next swing, Harry grabs Colin’s arm and twists it behind his back, spinning him around, then kicking the backs of his knees to make them buckle. Colin collapses face-first onto the hardwood floor. Harry falls on top of him, still twisting Colin’s arm behind his back at a painful angle while pressing his head down into the floor with his other hand.

Colin cries out in agony, struggling underneath Harry’s weight. “Get off me, asshole!”

“Are you gonna stop?” asks Harry.

“You’re breaking my fucking arm!”

“Are you gonna stop?”

“Get off—”

“Are you gonna stop?”

Colin, finally realizing that he’s no match for the man holding him down, surrenders. “Yes! Yes! Fucking yes!”

But Harry doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, he leans down to Colin’s ear and says in a low, chilling tone, “Good boy, Colin.” Then he lets go.

He stands up, fixes his jacket around his torso, and turns around to face the women as if nothing just happened. “Y/N and I are leaving,” he tells Rosie. “You can come with us if you want. It’s your call.”

“I’m staying,” she replies, wincing a bit as she stares at Colin writhing on the floor.

“Okay.” Harry walks over to Y/N, grabs her hand, and starts pulling her towards the door, much like how she dragged him out of the party last night but with more urgency.

“I think he broke my arm,” they hear Colin whine pitifully as they leave.

Harry doesn’t release Y/N’s hand until they reach the car. Once they’re seated inside, she instantly starts assessing his appearance to check if he’s hurt anywhere, but he seems entirely unscathed. You wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’s just been in a fight.

“Are you okay?” she asks just to be sure.

“I’m fine,” he answers, securing his seatbelt before starting the car.

“That got way out of hand.”

“I wish you’d just left with me when I said so,” he mutters, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Harry, I didn’t want to leave her with him. I still feel awful about leaving her there.”

He takes a right, exiting Colin’s street. “What else were we meant to do, Y/N? Drag her out against her will? You think she’d still talk to you after that?” He scoffs.

His unusual harshness is making her feel even worse about a situation that is already difficult to grapple with. “No, of course not,” she says, a lump forming in her throat. “I understand why we had to leave her. I’m just saying that it fucking sucks, okay? The whole thing fucking sucks and I hate that my best friend is in the middle of it all and I can’t do anything to help her. I’m probably going to lose the only real friend I’ve made in my adult life all because of some fucking douchebag and I hate it, I hate him, I—I—” She breaks down then, her face falling into her hands as she sobs.

Anger is a strange emotion. When it’s there in full force, consuming you from head to toe, it leaves little room for anything else—anxiety, grief, and despair included. Then once it disappears, all those other emotions come hurtling in from all sides, crushing you beneath their weight.

Harry pulls over to the side of the road. “Y/N.” He turns to face her and carefully pries her hands away from her face.

She tilts her head back against the headrest, squeezing her eyes shut, tears falling unhindered.

“Hey, I get it,” he speaks gently. “I know it’s a shitty situation. I know you want to protect her, the same way I want to protect you, but you can’t save someone who’s constantly refusing your help. It’s not your fault, my love. You’ve done everything you can.” He holds both of her hands in one of his while using the other to wipe her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being harsh with you. I just hate the idea of you getting hurt. I’m sorry.” He kisses her hands several times.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, opening her eyes to look at him. She grabs a wad of tissues from the box on the dash and clears her throat before saying, “Thank you for being there tonight and handling everything so well… And not killing Colin, even though I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“Trust me, I wanted to. The prick needs someone to teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, that can’t be me.”

“I don’t know. I think you taught him pretty well that he’s not as man as he thinks he is.”

He smirks, and it’s the first sign of any pride he feels about overpowering Colin. He looks back at the road and says, “Let’s go home.”

***

It’s been a couple days since the incident at Colin’s house. Y/N hasn’t heard from Rosie again, nor does she expect to. Now, it’s the middle of the afternoon and she’s working on a new commissioned drawing when she receives a call from Jeff.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been trying to reach Harry all day,” he says when she picks up. “Is he with you?”

The urgency in Jeff’s voice makes her stop what she’s doing. “Uh, no, he’s out golfing with some friends. Why? Is everything okay?”

“Have you been online at all today?” She barely has a chance to answer before he says, “Sorry, dumb question. Of course you haven’t. That’s why you’re so calm. Anyway, there’s this guy, some TikToker, making some serious allegations against Harry. His name is Colin Rogers. Does that ring a bell?”

She sighs and closes her eyes. “Yeah. That’s Rosie’s fiance. What’s he saying about Harry?”

“To give you the CliffsNotes version, he’s saying that you cheated on Harry with him a few nights ago, and when Harry found out, he forced his way into Colin’s house and beat him badly enough to cause bruises and bleeding that landed him in the hospital.”

“Oh my God.”

“Like I said, that’s the CliffsNotes version. I skipped out a lot of details. It’s… bad. And he has a witness corroborating his statements.”

She frowns. “What witness?”

“Your friend Rosie.”

Y/N facepalms and groans in frustration.

“Now, we know all of this is bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not what happened,” she confirms.

“Which explains why he didn’t say a word to the police and went straight to his little Internet followers. Now it’s all anyone is talking about.”

“Are people believing it?”

“Some are. Some aren’t. That’s usually how it goes.” He sounds tired. “Look, I need to run, but I’ll send you an article detailing everything Colin said. I hate to give these tabloids any clicks, but this article is pretty thorough. Please tell H to call me when you hear from him.”

“Will do.”

Jeff sends her the article a few seconds later. She takes a deep breath before opening the link, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

The clickbait headline reads: Harry Styles’ first big SCANDAL! Read more to find out how the “As It Was” singer ASSAULTED TikTok influencer Colin Rogers in his home.

As Y/N scrolls through the article, she finds that Jeff was right. It’s bad. Very bad. There are clips from Colin’s TikTok where he describes in exaggerated detail his manufactured version of events from that night. In the clips, you can clearly see dark purple bruises on either side of his head and around his eyes as well as his neck. His lip is badly cut, the surrounding region swollen and puffy. Even his nose is bent at an odd shape, signalling a possible fracture.

Y/N recalls how desperately Colin was trying to provoke Harry that night, saying degrading things about her to get under his skin. He even alluded to Harry ending up in the news for hitting him. Colin may be an arrogant dickhead, but apparently he’s not stupid. He was planning this out in his head even then—how he would use that situation to publicly smear Harry’s reputation along with Y/N’s.

As another one of Colin’s TikToks plays, she sees him hold up a small object. Harry’s lion ring. Colin says he found it after Harry left his house, claiming that it must have fallen off during their altercation. But Y/N knows that’s a lie because Harry wasn’t even wearing any rings that night. He was, however, wearing rings the previous night at Rosie’s birthday party. It had to have slipped off his finger at the party without him knowing.

The ring is the only “proof” Colin has of Harry being at his house at one point. Other than that, he presents no solid evidence to back up his claims, but of course, anyone who has spent even a week on social media knows that it does not operate on facts and evidence. People’s insatiable hunger for drama trumps the truth in most online spaces.

Harry gets home from golfing a couple hours later, and Y/N sits him down to explain everything. By the end of it, he is befuddled and speechless. It takes a while for him to gather his thoughts, at which point he says he’s going to make some calls to Jeff, his publicist, and a few others on his team to get their input.

He disappears into the study for the next few hours, his deep voice occasionally carrying over to Y/N, who is working at the dining table. The sun has gone down. She contemplates getting started on dinner when Harry emerges from the study.

“Hi, baby,” she says.

He walks over to her and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat next to her. She notices the fatigue on his face.

“How did the calls go?”

“We’re releasing a statement tomorrow,” he says. “It’s been drafted up already. Just explaining what actually happened that night and making it very clear that I was invited into the house and the only time I touched Colin was to defend myself, but his injuries were not my doing.”

“Can’t you also sue him for defamation? Is that what it’s called?” Suddenly feeling self-conscious about her lack of knowledge on the law, she adds, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this stuff.”

He smiles sweetly. “It’s a bit early to take that step. Jeff thinks the statement might be enough to make Colin retract his story. I’m not so sure.” He shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nope, you just keep being your lovely self.” He pokes her cheek.

“Well, Rosie’s over on her Instagram, trying to convince everyone that Colin’s telling the truth. I feel like I should say something too, like maybe—”

“Darling, trust me,” he interrupts. “There’s no need. My team will handle it. They know what they’re doing.”

She bites her lip and lets out a soft sigh. “Okay.”

“And let’s stay off social media for a while, yeah? Just to keep our sanity intact.” She knows he’s mostly saying this for her. He hardly uses social media unless it’s to catch up with his loved ones, and while she also isn’t on there that much, she struggles more than him when it comes to ignoring people’s opinions online.

“Yeah, definitely,” she agrees.

But later that night, while she’s lying in bed and Harry is finishing up his nighttime routine in the bathroom, the urge to look online strikes and she can’t resist. She opens up the hellsite known as Twitter and doomscrolls through the shitty takes of people who clearly don’t know a thing about Harry but have been desperately waiting for something like this to come out about him just so they can jump on the bandwagon and “cancel” him and pile on the hate like their life depends on it, despite the fact that none of them know what they’re talking about and—

“What are you doing?” Harry’s voice startles her. She quickly turns off her phone and looks at him standing next to the bed in just his Calvin Klein underwear, which does nothing to hide his prominent bulge.

“Nothing,” she replies.

He gives her a skeptical look.

She sighs. “I’m sorry! It’s like a car crash that I can’t look away from… Except I’m involved in the car crash and I didn’t even get the worst of it.”

He climbs onto the bed, gingerly plucking the phone out of her hands and placing it on the bedside table. Then he lies on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. Y/N gazes up at him and shakes her head in awe at how laid-back he seems.

“I don’t understand how you’re able to stay so calm in just about every situation,” she says. “It’s infuriating and hot at the same time.”

He chuckles. “I just try to remind myself that these people don’t actually know me, so there’s no point in letting their opinions get to me.”

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Thanks to her social anxiety, Y/N has spent the better part of her life obsessing over what other people think of her, whether it be her loved ones or the random stranger that cashed her out at the grocery store. She has always yearned for the kind of cool indifference that people like Harry exude even in the face of immense scrutiny.

“I’ve had practice,” he says. “You’ll learn as well.”

“Yeah? Will you teach me?”

“Happily.”

His gaze shifts down to her lips, and he leans down to kiss them, soft and slow. Meanwhile, his finger traces along her jaw and down her neck until his hand comes to rest on one of her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and her thin shirt hardly acts as a barrier between his large hand and her supple skin. He squeezes her lightly in his palm, keeping his kisses and touches gentle, like he’s handling an expensive piece of porcelain.

For a moment, her mind drifts off to the comments she read online. She cannot fathom how anyone could believe that this man—this gentle, patient, loving man—would ever do the things that Colin accused him of.

It turns out that her mind isn’t the only one wandering off to other places because Harry suddenly pulls away and says, “Sorry to bring this up, but I…” His jaw clenches. “I just hate that he put his filthy hands on you.”

“I know,” she whispers, reaching up to weave her fingers through his curls in a soothing gesture. She had no idea that Colin’s actions towards her at the party were still bothering Harry.

“And with the press being all over it now, I almost wish I’d just beaten the living shit out of him. I mean, everyone thinks I did anyway.”

“Yeah, but that’s not you, H.”

He just shrugs.

Y/N sits up and tugs at his briefs. “Take these off.”

His brows perk up at her demand.

“I’m tired of thinking and talking about Colin,” she says. “So, let me give us both something else to think about.”

A smirk forms on his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pulls them down his legs.

Before he entered her life, Y/N would never take the lead during sex. She always felt like she lacked the self-confidence required for that, but then again, none of the men she’d previously slept with were ever willing to let her take the lead anyway. They were the type of guys to feel emasculated by relinquishing control to a woman, though they would never admit this.

Harry was different. He was equally happy to lead and be led, to give and to receive. That alone made sex with him an ethereal experience.

Now, once Y/N also strips naked, they rest on the bed with their positions reversed—him on his back and her propped up next to him. Her hand cradles his jaw before she leans down to kiss him. Then she brings her hand to his semi-erect cock, wrapping it around the base and stroking softly until he grows stiffer in her palm and starts leaking precum. She strokes his balls as well, drawing more fluid from his tip that she then uses to get his dick nice and wet.

Harry is ogling her exposed breasts now in that way he does when he really wants to suck on them, so she slides up the bed, allowing him to take them into his mouth. When she gives his cock a firm tug, he moans around her nipple. The sensation causes her own wetness to pool between her legs.

He continues licking and sucking on her tits, grazing his teeth over them ever so slightly. The pleasurable feeling momentarily distracts her from her task, but then she returns her attention to his needy cock twitching in her palm. She jerks him faster, moving her hand up and down his pinkish flesh with just enough pressure to turn him into a moaning mess under her. Her nipple falls from his mouth as his lips part.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he pants. “I— Wait, stop. Stop.”

She immediately stills her movements and starts to ask what’s wrong when he flips them over so that he’s on top of her.

“As much as I was enjoying that,” he says, “I want to feel your pussy on me when I cum.”

His erection prods her thigh as he hovers over her, his legs wedged between hers. He reaches down to her cunt, feeling the wetness that has accumulated there. She can see it in his eyes, in his blown out pupils, that he really wants to put his cock in her right then, but he takes a minute to toy with her clit and heighten the anticipation for both of them. At last, he grabs his cock and starts guiding it into her sopping pussy.

He pauses once he’s inside her and brings the hand that was playing with her clit up to her mouth, pressing his damp fingers against her lips until she opens up and takes them into her mouth.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he says.

Still sucking his fingers clean, she wraps her legs around his hips.

He grins at her quick compliance. “Such a good girl.” Then he emphasizes, “My good girl. Isn’t that right?”

She nods, closing her eyes as he grinds his hips down into her.

“Mhm. All mine.”

Her pussy contracts around him. Keeping his fingers in her mouth, he retracts his hips and thrusts back into her. She whimpers and wraps her arms around him, nails digging into his back muscles as the rhythm of his thrusts increases in speed and urgency.

He pulls his fingers from his mouth to place that hand on the bed for extra leverage. With her mouth free, all she can do is moan his name and cry out from the intoxicating feeling of his cock ramming deep into her cunt with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Taking my cock so well. My perfect girl. My dream girl.”

His voice and his cock are the centre of Y/N’s universe right now; nothing else matters. Her orgasm is just around the corner, building rapidly in her core.

“Ready to cum all over my cock, Y/N?”

“Oh yes, please, yes—” She gasps as his hips rock into hers at just the right angle to push her over the edge. Her whole body locks around him—legs around his hips and arms around his back.

Harry grunts with one final thrust before letting himself go, filling her up with his seed. His body relaxes on top of her. She eases her grip on him as well. Their breathing slowly returns to normal, the rising and falling of their chests syncing up.

It’s hard to think about anything else after that. She wants to stay like that forever, with him covering her like a weighted blanket, his length gradually softening inside her. She even starts to drift off after a few minutes until Harry lifts his head to look at her.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me yet,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

She groans as he rolls off of her. He chuckles at her reluctance and drags her out of bed with him.

***

The viral storm rages on for days, even after Harry’s team releases the statement. Contrary to Jeff’s predictions, Colin doesn’t retract any of his claims and instead doubles down on them even harder, emboldened by the blind support of his followers.

Y/N and Harry block it all out. While she found it difficult at first to look away from the trainwreck, she was eventually able to redirect her attention to her art instead. For several days, the couple remains in their happy little bubble, unbothered by the incessant buzz of the online world.

That bubble pops on one sunny Friday afternoon.

Y/N is in need of some new art supplies, and Harry is in the mood to add to his vinyl collection. They decide to make a whole day out of it, visiting the art supply store and the record store before wandering around a few other places. One shop specifically dedicated to vintage home decor catches their attention, and they end up spending over an hour in there, walking through each aisle like kids in a candy store.

Harry is usually the first one to notice when they’re being watched or followed; they often joke that he has a third eye on the back of his head. Today, however, Y/N is the first to notice the two girls who keep showing up in or around the same aisle that they’re in.

Harry’s eyeing an antique candle holder set when she leans over to him and says quietly, “I think you have a shadow… Two, actually.”

He follows her gaze to the two girls idling at the end of the aisle. When he lifts his hand to wave at them, they seem to freeze in place like a couple of deer in headlights.

He turns back to Y/N. “I’m going to go say hi.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”

It’s a beautiful day out. Not too hot, not too cold. The cusp of spring. Perfect for a light sweater, but even in her long-sleeved shirt, Y/N feels nice and snug. She stands in front of the shop, the bags containing their new purchases hanging from her arm. She tilts her head up towards the sun and closes her eyes for a minute.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Her eyes snap open at the sound of her name. A short, balding man dressed in all black stands before her.

“Uh, y—yes? Do I know you?” she asks, giving him a once-over.

He smiles. “No, but I know you.” Suddenly, he pulls a big professional camera out from behind his back and brings it up to his face with the lens directed at Y/N to capture her reaction as he says, “Ms. Y/L/N, how do you feel about the allegations made by Colin Rogers towards your boyfriend Harry Styles?”

She tenses.

Y/N has always hated being the centre of attention. Of course, when you’re dating a global superstar, it’s inevitable. However, over the course of their relationship, they haven’t had too many run-ins with the paparazzi; Harry has become rather skilled at avoiding the pests.

She wonders how this guy figured out their whereabouts, but considering how much time they spent inside the shop, it wouldn’t be surprising if an employee, or even the two fans Harry is currently talking to, tipped him off.

When she doesn’t respond to his question, he says, “Colin claims that Harry has a short temper and is a lot more aggressive than he lets on. Is this true, Ms. Y/L/N?”

She looks over her shoulder at the shop windows to see if Harry is on his way out. Whenever she tries to step back or turn away from the annoying pap, he finds his way right back in front of her with his camera shoved in her face. Flashbacks of how Colin cornered her by the pool at Rosie’s birthday party flicker in the back of her mind.

She continues ignoring the intrusive questions until he asks her, “Has Harry ever hit you, Ms. Y/L/N?“

The question is so jarring that it almost feels like someone knocked the air out of her lungs. “Excuse me?”

The man seems pleased to finally get a reaction out of her. With a casual shrug, he replies, “Just felt the need to ask since the new claims came out.”

Her heart pounds in her chest. “What new claims?”

“A source close to you and Harry says that she’s seen him lose his temper with you on more than one occasion and—”

Her face contorts in disgust. “God, you people will believe anything! No, he hasn’t hit me. He would never. And the fact that you would ask any woman a sensitive question like that while filming her without consent is disgusting.”

“So… Are you denying the claims, Ms. Y/L/N?”

What do you think, dumbass? she wants to say, but she refuses to give him any more content. Of course, that only makes him more persistent, and yet again, the camera is far too close to her face.

“C—can you get that out of my face please?” she says, less assertively than she would have liked, but her anxiety is rising with every passing moment and the only thing on her mind at this point is how to slow down her heartrate before she passes out.

Suddenly, a ringed hand appears from the left side of her vision and shoves the camera down and out of her face.

“Whoa, don’t touch the equipment, man!” the pap shouts angrily, clutching his precious camera to his chest.

Harry steps in front of him, towering over his short figure. “When someone asks you nicely to get the camera out of their face, you get the camera out of their face. It’s not that complicated.”

The pap takes a step back, raising his hands by his sides. “Calm down, pal. What, you gonna hit me too?”

Harry just scowls at him, then turns to Y/N with concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just go.” She reaches for his arm.

Not wasting another second, they start walking towards Harry’s car parked down the street. The pap is relentless, following them all the way there.

Right as Harry presses the button to unlock the car, he says, “Harry, any comments on the new claims about you hitting your girlfriend?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns around. “What did you just say?”

“H, let’s just get in the car,” Y/N pleads.

“Not my words, man,” says the pap. “Just saw it in the news today. A source close to you said—”

“A source close to me.” Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“You can look it up if you don’t believe me. I’m trying to help you, man. Colin Rogers is dominating the narrative. This is your chance to say your piece—”

“Right, well, here’s my piece then.” The pap raises the camera to his face again as Harry says, “Colin Rogers is a narcissistic, misogynistic, abusive pile of shit.” Leaning towards the man, he adds, “And so are you.”

And with that, he gets into the car and so does Y/N. She’s still shocked about what he said to the pap, not that it wasn’t deserved. He’s just always so stoic in these situations, and it’s the first time she has witnessed him break.

They ride silently for a while until Harry says, “People are saying I hit you? What the fuck? What the actual—”

“Okay, wait,” she says, placing a hand on his arm. “We don’t even know if he was telling the truth. He could’ve been making it up to get a reaction out of us. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

This is new to Y/N, being the calm one in a crisis. More often than not, Harry is the one talking her anxious self down from the proverbial ledge instead of the other way around.

He doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride, but she can tell his mind is spinning. Once they reach home, she heads upstairs to change and put their shopping away. When she comes back down, Harry is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his thighs with his phone in his hands. His face is set in a deep frown.

“He was right,” he says without looking up from his phone as she approaches him. “People really are saying that.”

She sits down next to him and gently pulls his shoulder to make him rest back against the couch. He sets his phone aside and rubs his hands over his face.

“Y/N, they think I’m some kind of monster. They think they need to, like… save you from me, as if I would ever hurt you…” Finally, he looks at her. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes. Oh my God. You don’t need to tell me that, Harry.”

He sighs and tilts his head against the back of the couch. “Out of all the things people have said about me over the years, this has got to be the worst.”

She brings her hand to his jaw, his stubble scraping against her fingers. “Baby, look at me.”

He tilts his head down again to meet her gaze.

“These people don’t know you,” she says, using his own wording. “They’re just a bunch of trolls that feed off drama. They don’t care about the truth. They don’t care about ‘saving’ me. It’s all just an act. And in a few days, they’re going to move on to some other celebrity gossip that catches their attention. Meanwhile, the people who do know you are still going to see you as the big softie you are.”

The look in his eyes is still one of utter defeat and hopelessness, which makes her worry that her words have had no impact on him.

“Do you want to talk to someone else about it? Like Jeff?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna talk to anyone. Just wanna lay here with you if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

She lies on the couch and lets him rest his head on her chest, his arm wrapped around her middle. She tries to think of some other comforting words she can say to him but then realizes that she doesn’t have to fill the silence. Sometimes, the act of just being there for someone is far more comforting than any words can be.

***

Y/N is getting worried about Harry. A week has gone by and he has hardly left the house. Between the two of them, he is by far the more outdoorsy one, but even she has been outside more times than him this past week. He hasn’t been eating much, claiming that he’s “just not very hungry.” She often wakes in the night to find him lying there, just staring up at the ceiling, and has to coax him to sleep. She doesn’t even hear him singing in the shower like he normally does.

It crushes her to see him so low. She wants to single-handedly take down every person who has made him feel this way.

The day after the incident with the pap, she made the dangerous decision to see for herself what people were saying online. Most people seemed to recognize that these new rumours about Harry hitting Y/N were completely out of character. Despite how private they are about their relationship, people know that he practically worships Y/N from the way he talks about her in his music.

The ones who believed the rumours were a small, but vocal, minority. Harry’s fans were trying their best to drown them out, like it was their full-time job, and while Y/N feels grateful for them, she wishes there was more that she could do to help.

Today, she somehow convinces Harry to go on a walk with her around the neighbourhood. Intent on not being recognized, he opts for the most indistinguishable clothing that covers him from head to toe, combined with a hat and sunglasses. He even keeps the hood of his sweater pulled up over his hat.

“It’s so warm out,” she says as they stroll down the sidewalk. “How are you not dying in that?”

He shrugs and kicks a rock in his path. “Dunno.”

Most of his responses have been like that lately. Short, indifferent. She doesn’t take it personally. After all, she behaves in a similar way when her anxiety has her in its grips. And anyway, even though he doesn’t talk much these days, he hasn’t stopped being affectionate or reminding her that he loves her.

When they return home from their walk, Harry immediately removes his hat and sweater, confirming that he was indeed too warm in that. She makes a comment about craving a cold smoothie, and he offers to make one for her as well as one for himself.

“I can make them,” she says. “It was my idea anyway.”

He shakes his head. “No, I was a dick on our walk. Need to make up for that.”

She gives him a look. “H, you don’t need to make up for anything.”

“I do though,” he insists, walking off to the kitchen before she can protest any further.

Suddenly, her phone goes off in her back pocket. She pulls it out. It’s Rosie. For a few seconds, she vacillates between picking up and ignoring it. In the end, she picks up.

“Hello?”

“He broke up with me,” says Rosie.

Surprise, surprise, thinks Y/N. “Did you call to tell me that?”

“No, I… I need to confess something.” Her voice trembles as she states, “I—I’m the one who told the press that Harry hit you.”

Y/N lets out a sigh and leans against the small table in the entryway of the house. “I already knew that, Rosie.”

“You did?”

“‘A source close to me’? Not a lot of people can say they’re close to me, so it was kind of a no-brainer.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m going to tell everyone that it was all a story, that none of it is true.”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

“You have no idea how sorry I am. Colin got in my head and he—”

“Did he tell you to say that Harry hit me?”

“W—well, no…”

“So that was your own genius idea?”

She says nothing.

Y/N closes her eyes, trying to sound as firm as possible as she says the next few words, “Okay, Rosie, I need you to listen to me closely… I don’t ever want to see you again. I don’t ever want to hear from you again. And don’t ever come near me or Harry ever again. Do you understand?”

Rosie’s answer arrives in an ashamed whisper, “Yeah.”

She’s about to hang up, her finger hovering over the little red icon, then she lifts the phone back up to her ear. “One more thing. How did Colin get those injuries?”

“Um, he went to that bar on Jacob Street that night after you and Harry left. He got wasted and got into a fight with a guy almost twice his size.”

Y/N knows exactly which bar she’s referring to. Now that she has the information she needs, she bids her now ex-best friend a final goodbye and hangs up. Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she realizes that the longest friendship of her life has just come to a calamitous end.

She places her phone on the table and looks up at the ceiling to keep the tears in. Then a pair of arms wraps around her waist from behind. She looks over her shoulder at Harry.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

She smiles sadly, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“Look at us. We’re just a couple of sad people, aren’t we?”

She laughs. “No! I refuse to label us as sad people. We’re just going through a tough time and we’re going to get through this.”

“Yes, we are.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m actually thinking of going back to therapy. It’s been a while.”

“That’s a great idea. I should probably do that too.”

Later that afternoon, Harry falls asleep while reading a book on the couch. Y/N takes this as her chance to chat with Jeff about something that’s been on her mind since her conversation with Rosie.

When Jeff picks up her call, she doesn’t even wait for him to speak before she says, “I know how we can prove that Colin’s lying.”

“Uh… Okay, elaborate.”

“I spoke to Rosie today and she told me Colin went to a bar that night where he got into a fight with someone and ended up with those injuries. I know which bar it is. If we can go there and get security camera footage from that night, we can prove that Colin was lying all along.”

“I see what you’re saying, but we can’t just walk into a bar and ask for their security footage. We’re not investigators.”

“Okay, but don’t you know someone who can do that? You’re an Azoff. You have connections, don’t you?”

“Yeah, in the entertainment industry, Y/N. Not in law enforcement.”

She releases a heavy sigh. “C’mon, Jeff, there has to be something we can do with this information… If you’re not going to help, I will go to that bar and steal that footage myself.”

“Don’t do that,” he says quickly. “Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Thank you.”

There’s a pause before he asks, “How’s H doing?”

“Not great. He’s really torn up about what people are saying, especially the rumours about him… hurting me. Which is exactly why I need to clear his name. I know some people will still say nasty things about him—that’s never going to stop—but…” She bites her lip to keep herself from getting emotional, which seems to be happening a lot lately. “Harry has been there for me through so much. I need to do this for him.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

She smiles. She didn’t know she needed to hear that until now. Ever since this mess began, a part of her has been blaming herself for putting Harry through this hell because Rosie and Colin never would’ve entered his life if it wasn’t for her. While she knows that it’s not her fault, sometimes her insecurities get the best of her.

“Thanks, Jeff,” she replies.

***

Not even twenty-four hours later, the bar footage is released online. It spreads like wildfire, turning all of Harry’s critics to ashes and causing irreparable damage to Colin’s credibility.

Y/N messages Jeff to commend him for retrieving the footage so fast.

Y/N: YOU’RE AMAZING I OWE YOU

Jeff: You can repay me by drawing 100 portraits of me that I can hang around my house

Y/N: On it 🫡

Even Rosie sticks to her word by announcing on her social media that everything she said was a lie, which adds another nail in Colin’s coffin.

Over the next few days, the ominous cloud that has been hanging over Harry and Y/N’s heads finally clears. Harry is back to being his bubbly, radiant self, lighting up every room he walks into. Life feels like it’s returning to normal, at last.

Tonight, they’re at dinner with Jeff and Harry’s two other managers, Tom and Tommy. It’s not a business meeting; Harry was just in the mood to treat the people who continue to support him both professionally and personally. Lately, Y/N has been feeling motivated to overcome her discomfort around eating in public, so she agreed to tag along as well. Towards the end of their meal, Jeff raises his glass and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, we need to make a toast to someone at this table,” he states. “Not you, Harry. Don’t get too excited.”

Harry’s in the middle of sipping his drink, so he just flips his friend the middle finger, which Jeff graciously returns.

“This is a toast to Y/N and her investigative skills,” Jeff continues, now looking at Y/N, who is completely caught off-guard by this gesture. “She was the one who figured out how He Who Shall Not Be Named got his injuries. And she came up with the idea of getting the security footage from that bar.”

Everyone is staring at her now, including Harry. His eyebrows are raised in surprise as he asks, “That was your idea?”

“Oh, I— It was nothing,” she says modestly. “I didn’t even do much.”

Then Jeff reveals, “She even threatened to go to the bar and steal that footage herself if I didn’t help her.” He points a finger at her. “The lady knows how to get what she wants.”

Her cheeks flush red. “Okay, that might have been a bit dramatic, but I just couldn’t let Col—” She suddenly remembers their unspoken rule of not referring to Colin by name and corrects herself, “Sorry, I couldn’t let He Who Shall Not Be Named get away with smearing Harry’s reputation, so...” She shrugs, taking a sip of her water in a futile attempt to hide the blush on her face.

Harry smiles and squeezes her knee under the table. “Thank you, lovie.”

“Maybe we need to get Y/N on the team,” says Tommy.

“Oh yeah, she’s basically my guardian angel,” says Harry, winking at her. “Might as well.”

Y/N just laughs and accepts the praise, not bothering to hide her reddened cheeks anymore. She might hate being the centre of attention, but at least this is a good kind of attention.

“To Y/N, everyone!” says Jeff, lifting his glass up in the air.

“To Y/N!”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

2K notes · View notes

newtthetranswriter · 1 month ago

Text

Surprise Flights - Toru Oikawa

Word Count: 2128

Paring: Toru Oikawa x Fem! Reader

Summary: Toru really just wants to make Christmas special for Y/n, luckily for him he gets the chance to give her the best present of all.

A/n: Hello everyone, this idea came to me while working on a different fic that will be out closer to Christmas. Anyways I thought it was a cute idea, and it definitely turned out better than i thought it would. Also I just want to say that I’m sorry for the random long break in posting, writer’s block kicked my ass, plus I just got a job after almost a year of searching and so I might not be posting as much but I will try to write something every now and then. Anyways enjoy, Happy holidays, and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

a/n 2: This is really my first time doing any kind of smau style stuff for a fic so please let me know what you think. I'd be willing to try out doing an smau series in between normal imagines to help keep the ideas flowing just let me know if that's something y'all would want.

It had been almost a year since Toru left Japan to pursue his dream of being a pro Volleyball player. It had been almost a year since he wiped the tears off her face as he promised to call and visit as often as humanly possible. Toru was able to keep the promise of phone calls and text messages but his schedule didn’t allow for much off time.

He had only been able to see her in person once since leaving for Argentina. For his birthday Y/n and Iwaizumi had managed to fly out to visit him. His two favorite people managed to surprise him by staying with him for a week, but he still had practice so it’s not like he could truly enjoy it. After they had returned to Japan, Toru had promised himself that he would be the one surprising her next.

So when he found out in early November that the team would be getting the last two weeks of the year off, he began planning. Immediately he had told Iwa and made him swear not to let it slip that he would be coming home. Toru had it all planned out, he was going to make this the best Christmas she had ever had.

The days leading up to his flight Toru had to fight the overwhelming urge to just come clean and tell Y/n he would be there soon. The only thing preventing him from spilling the beans was the thought of how happy she would look when they finally got to hold each other again. The image of her smiling and the sound of her laugh as they embraced for the first time in so long pushed him forward, promising that it was worth it to keep it a secret.

On the morning of his flight, Toru made sure that he had everything ready. He double checked that he had his passport and ticket easy to grab as well as his charger and headphones. Looking over his entryway where he had his suitcase and carry-on placed and ready, he smiled to himself knowing that in less than two days he’d be holding his amazing girlfriend in his arms. Checking the time, he quickly ordered an uber before opening his messages.

After sending his usual goodnight message to Y/n, knowing that Japan is 12 hours ahead, Toru looked over his apartment one last time before heading out to wait for his ride.

By the time he reached the parking lot his uber was already waiting. Getting into the car he said a quick thank you to the driver, before turning his attention back to his phone as a new message came through.

Toru smiled to himself as he read his friend's last message. As Toru sat quietly watching the scenery pass by, he kept thinking over his plan. Sure he had set his lock screen to a list of times he needed to text Y/n so she wouldn’t get suspicious, but he was anxious that she would notice something was up.

“Going home for the holidays?” The driver asked, breaking the silence that settled over the car. “Sorry, I know not a lot of people like to talk during these rides, I just can’t help but be curious. Of Course you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” He added on, sending the brunette a kind smile through the rear view mirror.

Smiling Toru nodded, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts. “Yeah I am. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in about five months and I have seen my family in about a year so It will be nice to see them all again.” He briefly explained.

The driver nodded. “Well they all must be excited to see you, if it’s been that long.” He said while keeping focused on his driving. “I know I’d be thrilled to see family if it had been a year since I last saw them.”

“Actually they don’t know I’m coming.” Toru said with a laugh. “Well, my best friend knows, he’s helping me with the surprise. But I wanted it to be a fun Christmas present for everyone.” He explained after seeing the driver's confused expression.

Laughing joyously, the driver nodded. “Sounds like an amazing gift. Well here we are. Have a safe flight and Happy Holidays to you.” The driver said pulling up at the passenger drop off door of the airport.

Grabbing his stuff Toru nodded. “Thank you, Happy Holidays to you as well.” He said, closing the car door and turning to the airport.

After making it through customs surprisingly quickly for the holiday season, Toru pulled out his phone while finding a seat near his gate. Seeing that it was about two hours until his flight was set to depart he decided it was a good time to start his plan.

Pressing send on the final message he did his best to calm his nerves once again. He felt slightly bad for lying to Y/n, but he knew that if he didn’t and just never responded to her messages she would worry. Sighing he pulled out his headphones, listening to music in order to block out the sounds of the airport while he waited for his flight.

Time skip to landing in Italy

After landing in Rome for his roughly eight hour layover, Toru decided to check his phone for any messages.

He fought the urge to respond right away, but reminded himself that Y/n thinks he’s still in Argentina where it’s currently three in the morning, so a text message from him would be suspicious. Sighing to himself, Toru decided to stay in the airport while waiting for the second half of his flight. Grabbing an overpriced coffee and breakfast from the airport Starbucks, He made himself comfortable close to the gate of his next flight.

About five hours into the layover, Toru decided it was a good time to finally respond to Y/n’s early texts. After all, nearly twenty hours of ‘sleeping’ was a lot even if he was ‘sick’.

Toru smiled at Y/n’s worrying, happy that she was believing him and she hadn’t caught on to his schemes.

The two continued to text back and forth for the next couple of hours. As they chatted about their days, Toru fibbing just well enough that Y/n didn’t catch on, Toru noticed that it was getting close to his departure time. He was enjoying talking with his girlfriend but he needed to come up with a way to end the conversation so it wouldn’t be suspicious if he just stopped responding. Luckily Y/n beat him to it.

Not even ten minutes after hitting send on his final message, Toru was on his flight. Overjoyed to know that the next time he texted Y/n, he would be in the same country and one step closer to being reunited.

Time Skip to landing in Japan

Stepping off his flight, Toru was surprised he didn’t feel extremely jet lagged after only sleeping for a handful of hours over the last thirty hours. He guessed it had to do with the fact that he was extremely excited about the events that would be happening over the next couple hours. Mainly the thought of holding Y/n in his arms once again.

While making his way to the baggage claim, Toru decided to text Y/n again. It was even more difficult this time around to not tell her he was back in Japan, but he remembered that she was probably at work right now so he couldn’t distract her too much. So he settled on keeping the surprise.

He frowned slightly hoping her day wasn’t going to bad, and put his phone back in his pocket. Turning his focus to looking for his suitcase as he tried not to worry too much. As he spotted his bag on the conveyor belt, Toru felt his phone go off again. Pulling out his phone again, he laughed at Iwa’s usual name calling before responding quickly.

As he texted his best friend he made his way to the passenger pick up, looking for Iwa’s spiky brown hair. Quickly spotting the former spiker’s pointed glare, Toru couldn’t help but walk a little faster. “Iwa, I’m so glad to see you. Thanks again for agreeing to pick me up.” He said in greeting, opening his arms to ask the stoic male for a hug.

Letting out a fake groan, Iwa embraced his childhood friend before pulling away. “Don’t mention it. Now didn’t you want to stop at the store before going over to Y/n’s?” He asked, no longer hiding the slight smile on his face from being reunited with Toru.

Time skip to Y/n’s apartment

After buying a few things at the store, Iwa helped Toru get all of his things up to Y/n’s apartment, telling him that Y/n had left a spare key out for him when he made up an excuse about needing to drop something off there. Once the two friends had gotten Toru’s suitcase and bags from the store into the apartment, Iwa gave his friend one last hug before leaving.

Now alone in his girlfriend's apartment, Toru couldn’t help but be nervous about waiting for her to finally return home and see the amazing surprise he had for her. He knew she would be happy, of course she would be, after all she was so sad when he said he couldn’t make it back for Christmas. He just had to wait another hour or so before she would get there.

Time skip to Y/n getting home & P.o.v switch

While it had technically been a short day at work for her, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that the day had drug on. When she finally arrived at her apartment all she wanted to do was lay down and wait for Toru to wake up so she could call him during his morning run, like they did most days. Getting to her front door though she was shocked to find out that the spare key she had left out for Iwaizumi was no longer under the mat and the front door was still unlocked. Opening the door and seeing a pair of men’s shoes in the entry way she assumed Iwa had just gotten there so she just shrugged as she took off her shoes and headed for the living room.

“Hey Iwa, what was it you needed to drop off …” Her sentence trailed off as she noticed the brunette standing in her living room, who was very clearly not Iwaizumi. “Toru? Am I dreaming?” She asked, pinching her arm, not fully believing that Toru Oikawa was really standing in her apartment holding a bouquet of flowers with a sheepish smile on his face.

Toru chuckled as he slowly stepped closer to her. “You’re not dreaming I promise.” He said, handing her the flowers.

Instead of taking the flowers to put them in water she just set them on the coffee table before nearly tackling Toru in an extremely tight hug. Toru quickly returned the hug, resting his head on top of her as she pressed her face into his neck. After a few minutes of silence, She pulled back cupping his face in her hands.

“You’re really here.” She stated as if reassuring herself that this was real. “I thought you weren’t able to get time off to come home? And what about you being sick?” She began questioning.

Chuckling, Toru leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I wanted to surprise you, after you and Iwa surprised me for my birthday. As for being sick, I needed a believable reason to not text you for hours while I was on the plane.” He quickly explained.

She nodded in understanding. “Well consider me surprised.” She said, before taking a moment to just enjoy being in the same space as him again.

“Wait, does this mean you told Iwaizumi about you coming home?” She asked, receiving only a nod. “No wonder he wanted me to leave out my spare key. I couldn’t figure out what he could possibly have wanted to leave here.” Y/n finished laughing slightly.

After a few moments of just standing in the center of the room, the two moved to sit on the couch deciding to just cuddle as they talked. The conversation eventually faded and the two sat in a comfortable silence. “I’m so glad you’re home.” Y/n said as slowly drifted off to sleep laying on Toru’s chest.

“I’m glad to be home.” Toru responded, quickly following Y/n into the realm of dreams.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

#x reader #haikyu x reader #newt writes #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #toru x reader #x fem reader

28 notes · View notes

dramioneasks · 9 days ago

Text

Christmas Fics (2024) (Part 11):

A Christmas Wish by cleotheo - T, one-shot - After a terrible year, Hermione Granger pushes herself to join in with the Christmas festivities in the village where she lives. What she doesn't expect is for the evening to be so enjoyable, or for the changes it will bring to her life. Fun, festive Dramione one-shot.

In Silent Obsession by forawhile - E, one-shot - Hermione discovered two things in her first week of Auror training following the war: 1. She was woefully attracted to Draco Malfoy. 2. He wanted nothing to do with her and told her never to speak to him. Five years later, and Hermione Granger took two things very seriously as she navigated her promising Auror career: 1. She remained woefully, painfully, irrevocably attracted to Draco Malfoy.2. She would not break the vow of silence between them. A smutty Dramione one-shot, with mild Christmas themes - MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Partners in Time by charingfae - M, one-shot - After a temporary memory curse hits Hermione and Draco in the field, they no longer remember each other. Their friends keep insisting they hate each other. But Hermione's certain they're dead wrong. — “It’s just…you’ve never been able to handle yourselves around each other.” Hermione shares another quick look with Draco. His lips curve up slightly, just at one corner, and she can’t resist a tiny smile back. She knew there was a reason for the butterflies in her stomach. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Draco mutters. “I mean, look at you.” His eyes trail up her figure slowly, heat turning her body to smoulders. Theo breaks out into a hacking cough, a throaty laugh that turns into a wheeze. “What—Merlin—no, that’s—”

Witches and Christmas Don't Mix by Cuntryhouse - T, one-shot - Guardian Angels falling in love for 4 centuries. Oh, and guiding people to find love in the process.

Christmas: Start of Healing by LunaAmethyst203 - M, one-shot - The second wizarding war ended just over 7 months ago. Draco Malfoy was to be released from Azkaban a week before Christmas. Instead, the prison aurors choose to delay his release as revenge. Sending him off with curses of revenge and hatred but a certain magical bond pulls Hermione Granger to an injured Draco Malfoy. She takes care of him on the eve of Christmas as he takes the first step of his new life while finally having the space and ability to grieve a loved one lost during the final battle of the second wizarding war

Have Yourself a Felix Little Christmas by AdrienLennox - M, WIP - Facing the wrath of his enraged father, Draco scrambles to repair his broken betrothal with the haughty Astoria Greengrass by any means necessary. Add in an excessively Felix Felicis and Draco finds himself finding love in the most unexpected place.

Christmas Lights by rizzlewrites - G, one-shot - Since taking over the Manor, this was the first year he had to worry about the care and feeding of someone else in the house besides himself. Domestic life with Hermione Granger was a learning curve.

All Too Well by PinkChaos - T, one-shot - “It’s official. We have finally converted you!” Harry suddenly exclaimed mid-conversation with Hermione. “Red is a good color on you!” There was a very prim snort, and then a drawling voice Hermione would recognize anywhere spoke right behind her. “I was feeling festive. It is the holiday season, after all.” “No,” Harry shook his head, his grin widening, “that is very specifically Gryffindor red.” And he was right, Hermione realized as she looked over her shoulder and then up to find Draco Malfoy towering over her. The tailored suit, in a light grey today that matched his eyes, and long, black cashmere coat were typical for him, but the anomaly was the scarlet scarf wrapped perfectly around his neck. However, the color choice wasn’t even what Hermione found most odd, but that it looked exactly like her favorite scarf. Her favorite scarf that she had lost about a year ago.

You by quiven - G, one-shot - A Christmas one-shot involving one Christmas tree, two baubles, a slip of a parchment: and two merging wishes.

'tis the damn season by palomab1anca - M, WIP - Hermione finds herself in a spot of trouble when a lie turns into showing up at Christmas with Draco Malfoy at her side. What should have been a simple ruse turns complicated when a snowstorm forces bickering coworkers together.

A Professors Carol by thatbiatchsince2022 - not rated, WIP - On the last day of the Christmas term a student of Hermione comes up and asks if she knows a certain ice blonde. With that, we find out what happened between them the year prior

#christmas #dramione

21 notes · View notes

primaviva · 1 year ago

Text

blue christmas; león kennedy

featuring. leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis. you’ll have a blue christmas without leon, or will you?

warnings. minor angst, mostly fluff. also my first leon fic! (i’m terrified)

once again, it was christmas time, a season meant for cherished togetherness. the air was supposed to be filled with the warmth of loved ones, snuggled in front of a crackling fire, adorning the tree together, relishing in the joy of classic christmas movies, and immersing themselves in the enchanting spirit of the holidays.

but for you, that idyllic scene remained elusive—something you never quite experienced when dating an agent.

leon, your boyfriend, was constantly thrown into classified missions, shrouded in secrecy. there were times he couldn't even disclose the nature of his work, which meant you were well aware that a festive christmas break wasn't likely to be granted amidst his tireless efforts of dismantling organizations and gathering crucial intelligence.

during moments like these, you sought solace in solitude, confronting your sadness directly. you declined all invitations for plans during the final week leading up to christmas. a glimmer of hope remained that he would be present, and you wanted to ensure ample time to be with him. however, a sense of unease lingered, drawing you to want you to reject the idea of spending the holiday with anyone other than him and your family.

with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly left your warm bed, resigning yourself to the familiar routine of tending to daily errands and tidying up the house. nestling into the couch, you absentmindedly flipped through the channels, the repetitive christmas movies playing for the fifth time that week. then, a buzzing sound breaks the monotonous atmosphere.

your heart leaped with joy as you saw exactly who was calling. it was leon.

his calls were infrequent during his missions, making each one a precious and treasured moment. you never knew when you would get to hear his voice again, so you answered eagerly, your giddy anticipation evident in your high-pitched voice as you called out, "leon?" through the speaker.

"hey there, beautiful," leon's voice comes through the speaker, warm and familiar. "i hope i didn't catch you at a bad time."

a radiant smile illuminated your face as you responded, "no, not at all. there's not much to do anywhere with this snowstorm anyway." your gaze drifted towards the window, captivated by the swirling white fog gliding over the water, the snowflakes dancing amidst the relentless gusts of wind, their delicate forms adhering to the windowpane. "i’m about to binge another round of christmas movies," you added, a touch of wistfulness in your voice. "so, what's on your mind, leon?"

there's a slight pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him hesitating before he speaks again. "listen, i know it's christmas eve and all, and i hate that i can't be there with you. but this mission... it’s longer than i expected."

your heart sinks at his words, disappointment flooding your system. this was the same story every year, but it still hurt to hear it. "oh, leon," you say, trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. you were always polite with your sadness, like a little kid not wanting to deliver bad news, you didn’t want to ruin him because of yourself. "i was really looking forward to spending christmas with you. but i understand, duty calls, right?"

there's a tinge of sadness in his voice as he responds, "yeah, duty calls. i promise i'll make it up to you when i get back. we'll have our own little belated christmas celebration, just the two of us."

you can't help but let out a small chuckle. "you better make it a good one, kennedy. maybe i'll even let you take over the cooking for once," you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

leon's laughter comes through the phone, and you can almost picture the playful smile on his face. "deal. just don't expect anything gourmet, okay?"

as you two continue your conversation, your disappointment slowly fades away. even though you won't have him physically by your side for christmas, knowing that he's safe and that you’ll have your own celebration when he returns brings you comfort. and in the end, that's all that matters.

that was the mindset you had to have—enjoy the moments you have with him, even when it seems to be few.

you giggled at his joke. “y’know for an italian, aren’t you supposed to know how to cook? kinda embarrassing if you ask me,” you tease, snuggling yourself into the blanket as you hear a low chuckle of his from the phone.

leon's chuckle grows louder on the other end of the line. "hey now, i never claimed to be a master chef. i've got other talents, you know," he retorts playfully.

"oh, is that so? and what other talents might those be?" you ask, feigning curiosity.

"well, for one, i can take down a horde of zombies with my eyes closed. i can make some pretty funny jokes if i do say so myself," he replies, coated in sarcasm. "oh, and let's not forget my impeccable ability to make you smile, even from miles away."

you can't help but laugh at his response, as corny as it is. it's true, leon has a way of making the toughest situations bearable with his humor, even with the dad jokes. "well, i guess i can forgive your lack of culinary skills then. just make sure you're ready to put on your apron when you're back, alright?"

"i'll do my best, but no promises," he states, amusement clear in his tone. "but hey, i've got a surprise for you when i get back. something i think you'll love."

your curiosity piques at his words. "oh really? now you got me curious. what is it?" you ask, unable to contain my excitement.

leon lets out a mischievous chuckle. "sorry, babe, can't spoil the surprise. you'll just have to wait and find out."

you groan, pretending to be disappointed. "you're such a tease, leon. but i guess i'll have to be patient."

"patience is a virtue, my love," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "just a little longer, and then we can have our own christmas celebration, complete with whatever surprise i have in store for you."

you grin, feeling a surge of anticipation. "i can't wait. just make sure you come back to me in one piece, alright?"

"you got it. i'll be home soon. i love you," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity.

"i love you too, leon. stay safe," you reply, bringing the phone closer to your ear to hear every tone of his.

despite the disappointment of not being able to spend christmas together, you know that seeing leon after will make it all worth it. and for now, you’ll hold on to that thought, eagerly awaiting his return.

as the beep resonated from your phone, signaling the end of the call, a harsh reality settled in, causing you to slump back into the couch. despite the excitement of hearing from him, the sting of loneliness remained. you pondered whether leon truly understood the weight of your solitude, yet hesitated to voice your feelings, fearing it would burden him with guilt or worry amidst his own demanding circumstances. after all, he must be grappling with his own shit.

rising from the couch, you made your way to the christmas tree, reaching down behind it to plug the lights back into the socket. a growing smile adorned your face as the warm glow illuminated the room.

the christmas tree stood tall and proud in the corner of the room, its branches reaching upward like outstretched arms. it was adorned with an array of ornaments, each one holding a special significance and memory. the lights, now aglow, cast a soft, warm radiance that enveloped the tree, casting playful shadows on the surrounding walls. the branches were adorned with a delightful assortment of decorations, ranging from delicate glass baubles to whimsical handmade trinkets. shimmering silver and gold balls mingled with vibrant red and green ornaments, a harmonious blend of colors that captured the essence of the holiday season you adored. nestled among the branches were strands of sparkling tinsel, something that leon claimed to hate on trees but so desperately wanted to put on yours, that caught the light and added a touch of magic to the scene. handcrafted paper snowflakes, carefully cut and strung with thread, dangled delicately, evoking the whimsy of winter's first snowfall. at the very top of the tree, a glittering star shone brilliantly, serving as a guiding light to illuminate the room and symbolize the hope and joy of the season. leon had held you up on his shoulders for you to get that very star up there.

as you gazed upon the tree, its beauty and the memories it held washed over you, reminding you of how you and leon had happily adorned this tree together just a couple of weeks ago. now, you stood before it alone. you physically felt the silence of his hands wrapped around your waist as you peered up at the star, his chin on your shoulder as his breath hit your neck whilst whispering sweet nothings.

another sigh escaped your lips as you acknowledged the familiar reality of how your holiday was going to pan out.

determined not to dwell on it indefinitely, you pushed aside the melancholy and headed to the kitchen to prepare your breakfast. you knew that allowing yourself to be consumed by these emotions all day would not serve you well.

as you make your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. leon always made sure to set the coffee maker the night before, a small gesture that never failed to bring a smile to your face. but the smile wasn’t on your face, as he wasn’t here the night before or the nights before that. everything in your home seemed like an echo chamber of leon. though the house feels empty without leon's presence, you remind yourself that it's just temporary. he's out there, doing what he does best, and you couldn't be prouder of him. you know that his work is important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

you pour yourself a cup, savoring the familiar taste and warmth. you grab a couple of eggs from the fridge and start preparing a simple breakfast. as you crack the eggs into the pan, you can't help but remember the times you’ve cooked together, laughing and joking around in the kitchen. you can still find joy in the small moments, even if it's just making breakfast for yourself. you turn on some music, filling the kitchen with some christmas classics, and start humming along as you cook.

as you sit down at the table, enjoying your breakfast, you glance at the calendar on the wall. christmas day is just around the corner, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. soon enough, even if you hate how it is now, leon will be home.

you refuse to let the loneliness consume you. after finishing your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and decide to fill your day with activities that can lift you up. whether it's going for a walk, reading a book, going on youtube for endless hours, hanging out with a friend, or even just watching more christmas movies, you’ll make the most of this day.

speaking of a friend, one of your friends had invited you to a christmas eve party a couple of days ago. however, at that time, you were deeply immersed in your emotions and sought solace in your own sorrows of being alone. but now, you've reached a turning point. the time for crying and being consumed by your emotions has passed.

you grab your phone and swiftly send a text to your friend, inquiring if the party is still happening. after a brief moment, you receive a reply confirming that the party is indeed taking place.

a surge of excitement rushes through you as you realize that attending the party would serve as the perfect distraction. it's an opportunity to spend time with friends, indulge in a drink or two, embrace the stupid holiday festivities, and momentarily let you forget the absence of leon.

as night fell, you wasted no time in preparing for the occasion. slipping into a stunning, curve-hugging short red dress, you embraced the perfect color for the festive season. its vibrant hue radiated celebration and joy. accompanied by elegant heels, every step exuded glamour.

attention to detail was paramount, so you meticulously selected accessories to complete your ensemble. your signature hoops and rings adorned your ears and fingers, adding a personal touch of style. but you didn't stop there. to harmonize with the season, you chose a few matching bracelets, flawlessly complementing the red dress.

turning your focus to your face, you skillfully applied makeup in a warm, natural palette, harmonizing with the enchanting christmas theme. subtle earthy tones accentuated your features, while a hint of shimmer on your eyelids added a touch of festive sparkle. a sweep of lip gloss provided a luscious glow, completing the radiant look.

before stepping out, you took a moment to enhance your curls. with a touch of product, you breathed new life into your locks, giving them refreshed volume that cascaded gracefully around your shoulders.

now fully prepared, you were ready to embrace the night, exuding confidence and capturing the spirit of the occasion.

with a sense of finality, you diligently switched off all the lights, the stove, and the remaining appliances. as the last item on your checklist, you knelt down to unplug the christmas tree, a tinge of melancholy tugging at the corners of your lips as you observed the once-bright lights flicker and fade into darkness. retrieving your keys from the coffee table, you approached the front door and closed it with a resolute click, sealing the chapter of your time within.

as you stepped out into the night, a cool breeze greeted you, whispering a farewell as you pressed the button on your car keys. a satisfying beep resonated from your vehicle, parked diligently in front of your house, punctuating the moment. slipping into the comforting embrace of the front seat, you took a moment to gather yourself, preparing to start the car.

as you make your way to the address, the air is filled with the lively sound of remixed holiday music and laughter. instantly, your energy shifts, and you feel a surge of excitement as you prepare to join the festivities.

upon entering, you find the party in full swing, with vibrant decorations adorning every corner and the delightful hum of friends and acquaintances mingling. across the room, you spot your friend, who eagerly waves you over with a warm smile.

twinkling lights illuminate every room, casting a warm, festive glow. garlands and wreaths, adorned with pinecones, holly berries, and shimmering ornaments, grace the walls and banisters, emanating the scent of fresh pine. the fireplace crackles with a cozy fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. tables are adorned with holiday-themed centerpieces, featuring arrangements of poinsettias, candles, and miniature winter scenes. delicate snowflake decorations dangle from the ceilings, creating a whimsical atmosphere. everyone arrived dressed in their holiday best. other girls such as yourself don elegant cocktail dresses in rich colors, such as deep reds, emerald greens, and shimmering golds. some opt for fashionable jumpsuits or tailored pantsuits, exuding sophistication and style. the men present sport sharp suits or smart casual attire, complemented by festive touches like velvet blazers or patterned ties.

as you immerse yourself into the party, a profound sense of belonging washes over you. the room echoes with laughter, shared stories that make you blush, and an all-encompassing festive atmosphere. the night unfolds with drinks being passed around, party games igniting the atmosphere, and an abundance of delicious food and desserts to satisfy your cravings. witnessing spontaneous moments like people taking shots of coquito from another's belly button brings a carefree and joyful spirit to the occasion, exactly the kind of fun you needed.

in this lively setting, you let loose, embracing the merriment, and allowing yourself to simply revel in the happiness of the present moment.

as the night draws to a close, you say your goodbyes, feeling a little uplifted. the party had been a perfect distraction, you just dreaded going home to the silence you once shared with your lover.

you smile gratefully at your friend, feeling the warmth the her hug she encases you in. "thank you," you say sincerely. "i really did need this. it was a great distraction, and i had so much fun."

her embrace reminds you of the support and understanding that you have in your life. it's moments like these that make you appreciate the importance of having people to lean on.

returning her hug, you express your gratitude once more. "i'm lucky to have a friend like you. thanks for inviting me and being there for me. it means a lot."

“of course, don’t stress it,” she replies nonchalantly. as she walks you to your car, talking as much as you can before you have to go astray, eventually you part ways with her.

you slip into your car, starting the engine as you embark on the journey back home. the anticipation of returning to the quiet solitude of the house weighs heavily on you. eventually, you navigate through the drive-through and park your car, eager to reach the front door swiftly, mindful of the cold creeping up your bare legs, accentuated by your short dress. with haste, you insert the key into the lock, feeling a sense of relief as the door swings open. stepping inside, you swiftly turn to lock the door behind you, the click of the lock providing a small measure of comfort.

rubbing your tired eyes, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, you fumble to flip the light switch, craving the clarity of illumination. as the room floods with light, your senses jolt awake at the sight of someone familiar, causing you to momentarily snap out of your weariness.

“leon?” you voice, taken aback by his appearance.

leon stands in the middle of the living room, a mischievous smile on his face. he holds up a bouquet of flowers and a small gift, his eyes filled with warmth and excitement. he looks at you, his voice dripping with charm.

"surprise," he murmurs, a smile forming at the side of his mouth as he spoke. "i couldn't stay away for christmas after all."

your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him, unable to believe that he's actually here. the exhaustion and dread you felt just moments ago vanish, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

you rush towards him, your eyes welling up with tears as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. "leon! i can't believe it! you're really here!" you exclaim, hands practically shaking from the withdrawals of him not being in your grasp for what seemed like months on end.

he holds you close, his embrace reassuring and comforting. "i wanted to surprise you, beautiful," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. "i finished my mission earlier than expected, and there was no way i wasn’t coming back home to you the minute it ended."

you pull back slightly, your eyes searching his face, still in disbelief. "but... how? when did you even...?"

he chuckles, his piercing midnight blue gaze never leaving yours. "i made all the arrangements i needed to keep it a secret. i wanted to see the look on your face when you walked in and found me here."

that was just code for him that he probably drove here early and parked the car a block or four down so you wouldn’t bat an eye at it appearing mysteriously in the driveway which would give his little plan away. a mixture of awe, joy, and gratitude washes over you. you feel truly blessed to have someone like leon in your life, someone who goes above and beyond to make you happy.

"i can't believe you did this," you repeat, beginning to sound like a broken record. "you've truly outdone yourself, leon kennedy."

there it goes, his name leaving your lips once again. nothing made him more tender than hearing you say his name. leon smiles, his eyes twinkling with affection. "you know i would do anything for you."

basking in the joy of being reunited, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and love.

"i really thought i would be spending another christmas alone this year," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight. stepping back from the embrace, you allowed yourself a moment to fully absorb the sight before you, taking in every detail of leon.

leon's eyes soften as he looks at you, understanding and empathy shining through. "i'm sorry you had to feel that way, my love," he expressed gently, his voice filled with sincerity. "i never want you to feel alone, especially during the holidays."

he takes a step closer, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "i know how much this time of year means to you, and i wanted to make sure it was special. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and i want to be the one to give it to you."

you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin. "you've already made my christmas just by being here," you reply, voice laced with gratitude. "i can't even put into words right now how much it means to me."

he smiles, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "you don't have to say anything. seeing your smile and knowing that i could surprise you like this is enough for me. i love you, and i'll always be here for you, no matter what."

you reach up to hold his hand against your face, savoring the moment and the love that surrounds you both. "i love you too, leon."

as you stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you can’t help but nuzzle yourself closer to him as if in one blink he’d be gone again.

you peer over to the flowers he had put down to hold you, and next to it a small box. “what’s that pretty little thing you got wrapped?” you inquire.

leon grins mischievously, now holding up the small gift box for you to see. "ah, this? well, that's a little something i picked up for you," he states playfully.

curiosity piqued, you eagerly reach out to take the box from him, as you carefully untie the ribbon and open the lid, revealing a delicate piece of jewelry nestled inside.

"it's a necklace," leon explains, his tone prideful as he was proud to come up with this gift for you. "i saw it and immediately thought of you. i added a little something too, look inside."

you delicately lift the necklace from its cushioned bed, admiring the intricate design and the way it catches the light. your fingertips grace the metal edge of the pendant as you flip it open, revealing a familiar photo of you and leon within. you instantly recognized the photo, a flood of memories rushing back as your eyes fell upon the familiar image. it captured leon perfectly, dressed in his black suit and tie, a visual testament to the moment he officially became an agent after his time as a cop in raccoon city—a chapter of his life that was cut short, to say the least. but your connection with leon had transcended those challenging times, as you had been together even before his days as an agent.

“so you always have me with you when i’m away,” he explains, his eyes creasing a bit from the smile on his face as he studies your features. “do you like it?”

it’s not like you could hear what he was saying as all the background noise felt like muffled echoes as you fixated on the image before you.

"it's beautiful, leon," you whisper, fighting the tears that threaten to trickle down your cheeks. "thank you. i love it."

he comes closer, rubbing the sides of your arms. "i'm glad you like it. i know it doesn’t replace the real thing, and it’s nowhere near close to,” leon affirmed, a laugh escaping his lips from referring to himself so highly. “but it’s something. and if it makes you happy, then i’m happy.”

with a gentle gesture, he extended his hand, delicately draping the necklace around your neck. the weight of the pendant against your skin sent a tingling sensation, as if it carried a significance beyond its physical presence. standing behind you, he carefully lowered it onto your chest, his touch evoking a sense of tenderness and affection. as the clasp secured the necklace, you swiftly turned around, your eyes meeting leon's.

in that fleeting moment, specific emotion could only describe how you felt—love. love for the person standing before you. the necklace settled into its rightful place, a symbol of the connection between your hearts, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings.

leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his lips, your heart beating so hard against your chest you feel it might burst. "thank you for everything, leon. you truly are the best gift i could ever ask for."

you go to hug him one more time. leon holds you tightly in his arms, savoring the warmth of your body against his—a sensation he hasn’t felt in a while. "and you are the best gift i could ever ask for too," he replied, touching your heart as corny as it appeared. "being with you is all i need."

you remain intertwined in a tender embrace, savoring the preciousness of the moment and the profound love that envelops you both. as you nestle into each other, you can sense leon's arms enveloping you tighter, his hands gently pressing against the small of your back, conveying a depth of longing and affection that words could never fully capture. in that tranquil moment, you find solace in the knowledge that your connection is unbreakable, and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

as leon's gaze shifts to the clock, his eyes follow each passing second until it finally strikes twelve, signaling the arrival of christmas. with utmost tenderness, he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his affectionate gesture filling the room with warmth and love. his voice, as soft and delicate as the snowflakes that dance outside, gently breaks the silence of the room.

"merry christmas, my love," he whispers, his words spoken with a delicate care that wraps around you like a cozy blanket. the air seems to get warmer as he continues, "let's make this one to remember."

and as the joy of the season filled your heart, you knew that this year, your christmas would be anything but blue.

120 notes · View notes

alovesreading · 1 year ago

Text

'tis the damn season | Part 1

Summary: Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Word count: 16.5k

Warnings: a bit of ansgt. well more than just a bit. @imagine-that-100 and @kennedy-brooke have made it very clear to warn you that they cried (a lot) to this so here's your warning to read this at your own discretion. i promise I'll make it up to you in the next part lol

A/N: Last month I made a poll here to see which Ross fic everyone wanted to see next (since people were asking for more Ross and I had a few fics plotted out but didn't know which to write first) and this one won by a few votes. So here it is, a bit shit and a bit angsty but I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Part 2

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Slowly but surely, Ross MacDonald had made his way into your heart all those years ago.

And it all could be traced back to Christmas day 2002, when an act of kindness set the tone for a friendship that had been silently brewing between the two of you.

You had moved to Wilmslow as soon as you finished Year 8 and the anticipation for the start of Year 9 in a new school had been dreadful.

Thankfully, moving in had kept you and your parents busy enough to hide away in your new house as you waited for the first day of school to arrive.

Your parents hadn’t even pushed you to go out and make friends throughout the horrendously hot weeks of August for they allowed you to settle in the new house—they knew how badly you coped with change, and they were at least being kind enough to leave you to your own devices before school started. You kept your days busy by burying your nose in the few books you’d managed to keep after convincing your mom not to donate the entirety of your bookshelves.

But far too soon, the first day of school loomed on you and the first week at Wilmslow high school had been atrocious.

You kept to yourself like you always did, however, this time, it was an exaggerated amount. But you just felt so out of place, you couldn’t help it.

You’d look up at the sky with a pained expression every time during lunch, when you would finish yet another chapter of a book you’d read over and over since you’d gotten it, asking why? Just why would your parents make you move to a new town, and start from scratch at a new school when you were halfway through high school?

By Year 9, everyone’s friend groups were settled, the last year of school when everyone felt carefree enough to enjoy every single day before having to choose and start working towards getting their GCSEs.

So you felt like a proper outsider, not really welcome, like a new organism trying to push their way into an established ecosystem. And you hated it so much. It only pushed you further into your shell, making you want to disappear and remain under the shadows as you walked through the hallways to get to class, recoiling into yourself when hearing the loud chatter and laughter going on around you, failing horrendously at even smiling when people would make eye contact with you.

You were at least glad that you could walk home to and from school. The few minutes of silence and peace were something you cherished a lot now; the thudding of your leather shoes against the pavement lulling your thoughts as you made your way to the building that you were starting to dread seeing on the daily.

The second week had brought a surprise when you were halfway through yet another read of ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ and a group of girls approached you. You’d flinched when one of them spoke up as they sat around you in a menacing circle.

“S’a bit of a sad read for such a lovely day, no?”

The girl had been kind enough to let out a genuine giggle by the end of her lighthearted words so you braved up enough to put your book down softly and offer her a half smile. You had managed to joke back, a reference to the book that the three girls thankfully caught and then, with an ease that soothed your soul, you found yourself making your first few friends by talking about the books you loved so much.

As the days went by and you found yourself surprised when having people to share lunch with and greet when you got to school, you were sure this was as far as you’d get to with your luck. And, in all honesty, you were grateful. You had never been one to have loads of friends, and even with the few you’d made throughout the years, you knew you weren’t lucky to form strong bonds like everyone else did at your age.

So when you were walking down the roads that lead you to school, the last thing that you were expecting was for the boy who startled your silent and peaceful walk to become your very best friend.

Ross had seen you around school a few times by the end of the first week and the talk about the mysterious new girl had been doing rounds enough for his curiosity to be piqued, when he saw you walking into the house down the road from his house at the start of the second week of the school year.

He had made an effort waking up at a reasonable time and leaving for school way earlier than he always did every morning then, to see if he could catch up with you.

There wasn’t really a plan, there was just his growing curiosity to know about the girl who lived on the opposite corner of the road, the one who walked a block ahead of him every morning and got to school a minute before him, being whisked away by three girls that you gave the honour to see your smile unlike the rest of the students who crossed you through the halls.

One morning in particular, when Ross had just been annoyed at himself for missing you every damn time he walked out of his house, he decided to rush his steps until he reached you. Stumbling the last few and successfully startling you when he managed to catch up to you about a few minutes before you’d get to school.

His mind went blank when you looked at him expectantly for a few seconds, nothing but the birds chirping around you and the sound of cars driving down the roads enveloped you as you waited for a reasoning behind his sudden appearance.

But Ross gave you nothing but a dimpled smile and offered his hand out for you to shake.

Your grip was firm and the smile that broke on your face was as sweet as the ones you gave your new friends.

He foolishly hoped that meant you were friends now, but just to be sure of it, he let you know his name.

“Ross,” he started a bit shaky, clearing his throat before adding, “MacDonald.”

The chortle you gave at his formality made a pinkish blush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

“Y/N,” your voice made him melt. “Y/L/N. If the full legal name is really needed.”

He shook his head at himself, snorting out in laughter and dropping your hand softly. He clenched his fingers in a fist and then loosened it when his arm fell to his side. Even though the day was warm and he didn’t like it at all with the horrendously suffocating uniform they had to wear, he found himself not minding the warmth that holding your hand had brought.

Frowning at the thought, he fell silent just like you did and followed as you resumed your walk.

That was the first day you walked to school together.

Every morning after that, he ran to catch up to you and walk together to school. And little by little, your conversations elongated and you two shared more about yourselves to each other as the days went by.

“So who’s that girl then?” Matty asked one day after seeing you and Ross part ways at the entrance of the school.

Ross tensed at the line of questioning, especially at Matty’s tone and the way he wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“Just my neighbour,” he said almost dismissively. “We walk the same way to school so I bump into her sometimes.”

It wasn’t in bad nature though, he just wanted to keep the details of you that you kept hidden for everyone else to himself. It wasn’t selfish, Ross convinced himself, just giving you the chance to open up to Matty if you ever decided to do that.

But the curly headed boy knew well enough he hadn’t seen you before when he’d come over to the MacDonald’s residence, and he also knew very well that Ross walked into school with you daily. Sometimes my arse.

“Don’t remember seeing her around when I’ve come over to yours.”

Ross held back a huff but he freely let himself roll his eyes, “She’s just moved into the house on the other side of the road from mine.”

Matty hummed, smirking as he looked around until his gaze fell on you, “She’s fit.”

You were laughing with your friends, chatting excitedly as you sorted through your bag and pulled out a book.

Ross frowned at Matty’s comment but not because he disagreed, he actually wholeheartedly thought his friend was right, but because he didn’t like it coming from him.

“Maybe you should introduce us to the other,” Matty added with a cheeky grin when he saw the expression on Ross’ face. “Be a good mate and play cupid for me, MacDonald.”

Ross scoffed loudly at the forward suggestion from his friend. It was settled then, telling Matty you lived in the same road as him and that you’d just moved into town was enough for him to know.

He kept to himself what your favourite movie was, which album you’d last become obsessed with, the names of your friends back home who you didn’t talk to anymore now that you’d moved, how you had broken your arm at five years old in the playground and had put stickers all over your pink cast to show it off at school. Ross definitely wouldn’t tell him how that book had been lent to you by Danielle, one of your new friends, and how you’d stayed up until three in the morning reading it so you had spent half your trip up to school yawning and rubbing your eyes.

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

And so he did. He kept every bit of yourself that you shared with him to himself and himself only. And along with all those little facts about you, he also kept to himself the way he perked up every time he saw you slowly walking down the pavement, the warmth that spread through him when he saw you smile at him.

He would frown at himself in the mirror when he thought about it at home. He was thirteen years old, there were so many things much more important than thinking about how pretty you were or how your smile made him all gooey inside. He huffed every time, convincing himself he was just being objective and not developing a crush. He liked you as a friend and that was it. He had much more important matters than his feelings, which he definitely didn’t have.

But after the half term break, there was a change that made his stubborn thoughts falter.

He walked out of his house ready to see your figure already ahead of him, ready to power walk his way up to you.

But he saw no one but the trees and bushes lining the road and he deflated instantly.

He thought about walking up to your front door and knocking, asking if you’d gotten ill and you weren’t going to school. He pondered about what could’ve happened as he walked, eyes down as he went over the possibilities.

So he didn’t see you sitting on the step of your front door, waiting for him to walk by.

Taking in his distracted complexion, you decided to startle him right before he walked past your mum’s car.

A loud and slightly high pitched yell stumbled out of his mouth, and you somehow overpowered the sound with a loud fit of laughter that certainly felt like a nice apology for the scare.

You wouldn’t stop giggling about it as you walked to school, somehow managing to make him laugh along despite embarrassment tinting his cheeks red. Ross had never heard you laugh this much in his presence so he’d let you indulge in it, and when he did, you let yourself grow more comfortable around him.

He felt it from the way you’d now wait for him to walk by sitting on the step of your front door every morning, and how you’d greet him with a smile and an excited, “Hey!” He felt it from the way you’d lean into him as you walked, how you’d nudge his hip with yours when you’d tease him.

Just like you had done one day when you asked about the band.

“So he got promoted, huh?”

Your question had been thrown out into the chilly air of early November, suddenly and without context, so Ross looked at you confused and asked, “Who?”

His group of friends and yours didn’t really share much at all. Whilst you and your friends shared the growing love for books and films, you knew Ross was in a band with some of his friends and they were always messing about, playing video games or going to the skate park, if they were not recording themselves covering songs like the Ghostbusters theme song, which you’d seen on myspace, or just rehearsing in someone’s garage.

So you knew a little about the band from the few videos that went around the school, seeing them hidden away in the music room at school sometimes, or just the talk going around the halls. It was exactly the gossip which had brought the piece of information to your attention and you’d been curious about what had gotten Elliot, some lad who sang for their band, to quit in the middle of rehearsal and left that job open for his friend, who you knew played the drums, to take it.

“Your friend, the one with the curly hair and glasses? Used to be on the drums until a few days ago no? Or so the chatter going ‘round says.”

Recognition melted the frown away from his face, “Oh Matty? Yeah, yeah. We got George in the band now. T’was sorta logistically impossible to have Matty singing and on the drums at the same time. He had to do one thing at a time for it to properly work.”

You hummed, cocking your head as you took in the information. It made sense. “How’s that arrangement going on then?”

“Erm, well he likes being up on the front. The attention and all.” Ross joked a little, even though it was mostly true.

You snorted out in laughter, “Yeah I bet.”

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

“He looks like he likes attention. Not a bad thing, just–” you stuttered as you tried to look for the words, settling for, “It’s funny to watch, s’all."

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

Already seeing Jodie, Sarah and Danielle waiting for you by the school entrance, you turned to look at him and offered him a cheeky grin to play, “Good luck with that then, MacDonald. Don’t let him steal your spotlight too much.”

It was things like that that you’d say that would stay with him for days in the forefront of his mind. Weeks swirling around his subconscious and keeping him up at night, nothing really came from thinking about them so much, only the need to spend more and more time with you but he had no clue how or when to even suggest that.

The need only grew stronger when the holiday break came around and Ross hadn’t seen you in five days. Sure, two of those were the weekend but he had only really endured going without seeing you on the weekends, reuniting with your voice and your smile and your laughter the following Monday.

So Ross had been thinking about how he could even come around to seeing you during the holidays. Especially since it was actually Christmas day.

He could knock on your door, easily, but then what would he do? Was he coming over just to say hello? What if one of your parents answered the door? What was he trying to do? What excuse could he have?

Turns out, he didn’t have to think of an excuse because as he walked back home from Matty’s, Ross found you grumpily walking back home too.

He called out your name in the distance and thankfully, you heard him enough to turn around to see him and stop in your tracks.

It wasn’t until he was next to you that he said, “Why the long face? It’s Christmas.”

You could hear the hint of playfulness in his voice, but the annoyance that filled you mixed with a bit of sadness so you couldn’t find it in yourself to play along.

Instead, you sighed and shoved your gloved hands back inside your coat’s pockets. Shivering, you replied, “I know. There’s always a Grinch though, no?”

He nudged your hip with his, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth as he joked, “Doubt you’ve just stolen all the village’s gifts.”

When you only gave him a soft chuckle that got lost in the sound of the wind, he turned serious and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath so you didn’t let it get to you again, you took a second before explaining, “Mum’s forgotten to buy the potatoes and sent me out on the impossible quest of finding some at a quarter past four on the 25th of December.”

Ross gave you a soft, understanding smile then. “Ah, so no potatoes acquired.”

“Not one,” you mumbled in despair, shivering again when a cold rush of wind blew the hoodie off your head.

He had to hold himself back from throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him. All to help you get warm, of course. But he thought against it at the last second, instead thinking about what he could do to help.

“You know, me mum always buys way more than needed. It’s only us three so she definitely has some to spare.”

Horrified at the thought of taking from what should be his Christmas dinner, you quickly dismissed his suggestion. “No, Ross. It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

But Ross wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Kissing his teeth as he shook his head, he nudged your hip again, a cheeky grin on his face, “C’mon Y/N, today’s all about giving, is it not?”

Damn him and that dimpled smile that made it so easy for you to smile back. You hummed as you pressed your lips, trying not to beam at him too brightly but letting him win, “I guess it is.”

It was strange walking up the road and past your house. You had waited outside but still gasped under your breath at the glimpse of his house all decorated when he walked in through the door. When he closed the door behind him as his mum peeked her head out of the kitchen door, you sighed out in relief. Yes, he was your friend now but you were far too shy to go in and meet his parents only to take their potatoes.

Your cheeks and neck warmed with a flush that went all through your body when you thought about how he’d be telling his mum about the vegetables. God, how fucking embarrassing. You were cursing your mum’s forgetfulness in your mind when Ross walked back out, a bag of potatoes in hand.

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

But when that didn’t happen, you accepted the bag with a genuine smile and thanked Ross profusely. He said it was alright over and over but your mind was going over how you could repay it already.

An idea sparked in your head just as he was waving off yet another thank you that stumbled out of your lips, so with a sudden hurry, you wished him and his family a merry Christmas and walked back home.

A handful of hours later, you were back at his door. This time with your hands full, holding a tray of way too many Christmas cookies for three people.

“Special delivery?” You muttered softly, holding up the tray towards Ross as he peeled the door open further when seeing it was you.

He walked out, brave enough to face the bitter cold of the night without a proper coat. In just a beige knitted sweater, he rubbed his hands to warm them as he frowned, “What’s this?”

“Cookies, of course,” you replied with sarcasm dripping thick from your words. Ross glared at you, unimpressed by your answer and making you sigh, correcting yourself, “A thank you.”

“I told you it was alright.”

You knew he meant it but when you came back home, bag of potatoes in hand, your mum had gasped in surprise at you actually managing to get them. Not allowing her to get excited about being right about maybe the corner shop being open, you let your annoyance be known as you told her what had actually happened: you’d walked to the shops in the freezing cold for no reason because they were all closed like you very much knew they’d be, but Ross had been the one to give her the bag of vegetables. Just like you’d been thinking of doing already, your mum suggested making something extra to send over to Ross’ family as a thank you.

So here you were, with a double batch of sprinkled sugar cookies that you’d just taken out of the oven about twenty minutes before, standing in front of the MacDonald’s home, trying to get Ross to accept a humble—and quite tasty—offering as a thank you for his help.

“Well today’s about giving, isn’t it Ross?”

He couldn’t help but smile when hearing you use his very own words to push him into gracefully accepting the sweet treats. And so the only way to answer was by using your very own answer from earlier, “I guess it is.”

“Then take them, please.”

Truth be told, you had gotten to work on them quickly after going back home. It was a recipe you knew by heart so it wasn’t hard for you to make batch after batch. Your parents had been happily having some with hot chocolate whilst you’d come to deliver Ross the cookies you’d made for him and his family.

Ross smiled brightly, “Thank you, you’re a sweetheart.”

Your cheeks had warmed at the pet name, he’d never referred to you any other way than your name.

It was to be expected that the stupid smile on your face didn’t leave you until you went to sleep that night, and you’d been replaying him calling you that in your mind over and over.

You didn’t really see him after Christmas, not even on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s day, so you had to wait for the first day back at school to see him. To hear his voice, watch that infectious smile of his break on his face.

But on Monday, you waited for him far too long, sat on the step by your front door until it got late. You had walked to school alone, quickly and panicking as you tried not to be late but also worried about what could’ve happened with him.

Everything was alright though, Ross had just stupidly slept in until his mum startled him out of bed when he was already running late. He’d gotten dressed in record time, and basically ran to school and barely made it. There wasn’t any sense of relief overcoming him when he made it just in time, he was filled with dread after having missed your daily morning walk together, the one he’d been looking forward to since he’d gotten a taste of those cookies you made—he had basically hoarded them and left his parents only a handful to eat, they all had reached the conclusion that you’d done amazingly with the cookies and that it had been incredibly sweet of you to drop them off for them; so he really needed to tell you all that.

To his dismay, Ross didn’t see you at all throughout the day. So when the school day was over and everyone spilled out of the building, he rushed outside to catch you before you left for home.

In the distance, you heard him yell out your name and even your friends froze in their places beside you.

They smirked when you all turned around to see him clumsily breaking through the crowd to get to you, wiggles of their eyebrows and widening eyes letting you know that they were definitely curious about what was going on for your ‘walking-to-school buddy’, as they’d nicknamed him, to be so desperate to find you.

Waving them off and forcing them to say goodbye, you walked away from them and tilted your head slightly so Ross would follow you along as you started walking away from school.

The apology was imminent, you just didn’t know it would come this quickly, “M’so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t hear my alarm and slept in.” He took a deep breath when he got to your side and added, “Mum had to wake me up, fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed this quickly in my life.”

You laughed at him, the way his eyes flashed with dread at the recount of his morning.

He continued explaining, for no reason other than feeling like you deserved the whole truth behind it, “We got fucking plastered on New Year’s at Matty’s. Fully had to take a few days to recover from that nightmare of a hangover, but I’m still feeling rough so I just kept sleeping.”

Another string of giggles fell from your lips, “Right.”

Despite still being very sure of wanting to keep Matty away from you, Ross couldn’t help but suggest, “You should come along next year. You’d enjoy yourself.” He had been thinking about how it could’ve been with you there the whole time—or at least until he blacked out—, wishing he had invited you over. So he did just that, but just in case, he added, “Plus the guys are funny, even though they can be really obnoxious.”

Amused, you looked at him with raised brows and a cheeky grin, “I think Adam should be exempt from that.”

You had met Adam at school, he had been kind enough to say hello one day in the halls knowing that you were one of Ross’ friends, and he’d been really sweet chatting to you from time to time when you bumped into him around school. He definitely was nothing like Matty or George, who you’d seen causing ruckus around the place a fair few times.

At the dig, Ross asked, “What about me?”

But you tried taunting him by ignoring his inquiry and saying, “I'll be counting down the next 365 days,” successfully accepting his invitation over to Matty’s for the welcome of the next year.

Frozen in his place, his mouth fell agape at your blatant dismissal of his words, and so you left him behind with a chuckle, continuing walking towards your house.

From behind you, you heard him ask again, a bit louder this time, “Oi! What about me?”

You just laughed, shaking your head and not turning to see him. He had run up to you and poked your side as payback, making you squeal in surprise.

Your laughter hadn’t stopped until you were almost halfway to your house and answering his question had been long forgotten.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weeks that followed that first Christmas had seen you and Ross becoming proper friends and causing a domino effect on the mixing of your friend groups. Friendships bloomed easily when everyone started hanging out together thanks to you and Ross wanting to share more time together other than your walks to and from school.

It was an odd group of people, but you managed to bring out different sides of each other and it was pure laughter and joy every time.

Before you knew it, birthdays, half term breaks, weekends, Halloweens, and evenings after school were spent with you all together. Messing about, watching the guys rehearse in Matty’s garage, being front row in every gig they played, helping each other study for your GCSEs, coming over to watch films and sneaking out to the skatepark.

But when December came around and school had closed for Holiday break, you realised that it was that time of the year that would become your absolute favourite.

For Christmas 2003, you had made sure to make something for his family again. After Ross had told you how much his family had enjoyed the cookies you’d made, you wanted to surprise them with something again; even if this year you’d made sure your mum didn’t forget a single thing for your Christmas dinner so you weren’t asking for something back from the MacDonalds.

You had made a glorious batch of Yorkshire pudding that Ross and his parents enjoyed thoroughly with their gravy. You’d told your mum how surprised and grateful your neighbours had been for the treat, and you were secretly hoping Ross would come knocking on your door to tell you how they found your cooking but you had been the one surprised instead when Ross had come over on Boxing day morning with a delicious English trifle that his mum made as a thank you.

After having a healthy portion of dessert, you had basically dragged Ross upstairs to show him the presents you had gotten that year, and he had enjoyed every second with a silly grin on his face.

He hadn’t missed a beat to invite you over to his house so he could show you what he had gotten that year. But you hadn’t been allowed to leave before your mum could take a few pictures of you and Ross with the brand new Polaroid camera your dad had spoiled her with that year.

Her obsession with hanging mistletoe had ended up with Ross kissing your cheek for a picture after your mum had cheekily pointed out you were standing right below it.

You had felt the burning imprint of his lips on the skin of your cheek for hours as you were thrown on his bed admiring the beauty of his new bass, hearing him tune the instrument and practise the songs he knew how to play so well with what he had been obnoxiously referring to as his new ‘baby’.

That afternoon you had gone to Matty’s house, the rest of your friend group arrived shortly after you and Ross, and soon enough you started exchanging the gifts you’d gotten each other. The presents weren’t big or something too special, you all had to make due with your pocket money, but it had brought you so much happiness to see everyone’s reactions to what the other’s had gotten for them.

The days in between Boxing day and New Year’s Eve had been spent with either you over at Ross’ house or him over at yours.

By then, it wasn’t odd to spend time at each other’s houses, watching films and eating chips or helping each other with homework and studying. But the cold December had assured that every time you fell asleep as you watched a film in your room or his, you’d wake up cuddling tightly to keep warm.

It was a drastic change to wake up with your limbs tangled together instead of your heads resting on the other’s shoulder like it had happened before. So the first time it had happened, the two of you had jumped away from the other like you’d just been shocked by electricity. The truth was that a buzz had gone through your body to every single one of your nerve endings and you both had felt it, it was obvious in the foolish grins that you tried to hide as you apologised to each other.

But it was tempting to get lost in the feeling, and it proved impossible for you to have the heart to stop it from happening when you woke up resting on Ross’ chest, his arms around your waist to keep you in place and your legs tangled together.

You had blinked awake and seen the situation in which you were stuck in, and despite knowing it would be best to peel yourself away from him as your heartbeat grew louder in your ears, you just couldn’t do it.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to fall back asleep and leave the decision for Ross to make. Yet, he had felt you stir in his hold and it only took him a few seconds to wake up.

He groaned lowly and you felt your face heat up at the sound rumbling through his chest under your cheek. This was definitely not helping you ignore the way his presence had started making you fluster and get giddy every time, not helping the need to spend all of your time with him; definitely not helping your thoughts from going to a conversation with your friends who were willing to bet that you had a crush on Ross.

Softly you apologised and went to push yourself away from him, but Ross held you tighter and shook his head, half lidded eyes that fought against his sleepy haze on you with determination.

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

It was clearer than ever that you couldn’t say no to him and it made you curse at yourself in your mind.

By the time New Year’s Eve came, you and Ross had made it a habit to cuddle whenever either of you was at the other’s house, and with the cuddles came the need to have the other close at all times.

Therefore, you were glued to each other for the entirety of Matty’s house party. Even when one of you ran to the bathroom to be sick—yes, one if not the both of you, would definitely be shit faced before midnight—, the other was there to help.

When the countdown happened, you would laugh at the crowd of drunk teenagers trying to properly sync up to the clock. And when midnight struck, you’d all go around the room to clumsily hug everyone and wish them a happy new year.

And, of course, when you would wake up after knocking out on one of the settees, you’d be cuddling Ross tightly into you like you had grown used to doing in the past couple of days.

When the holiday season of 2004 came around, everything you had done the year before had become a tradition. From making something for the other’s family to spending the lazy morning of Boxing day together, walking over to Matty’s house side by side with the gifts for your friends in hand, spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve together and then going over to the Healy’s residence to get pissed as you welcomed the new year.

You found yourself wishing for every year to be the same.

Your heart swelled in your chest when December 2005 loomed around the corner, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled when your traditions continued just the same during Holiday break.

Another recipe was made as you tried to impress the MacDonalds, another picture of kisses on cheeks was added to the collection, another handful of presents bought for your friends, another show and tell of your gifts thrown for Ross, many more movies watched as you nuzzled in his neck, another countdown shouted with your best of friends, another hangover cured with Ross’ help.

But everything was slightly different this time around, for 2006 meant that this would be your last Holiday season at home before you were off to university. And though you were definitely coming back home to celebrate the Holidays every year, it was different enough to make it a proper last celebration.

That meant Ross and his parents coming over for Christmas dinner at your house.

“Wish we had done this sooner,” you tell Ross as you cut pieces of the sticky toffee pudding you made earlier today.

He hums beside you, sliding a plate closer to you so you could place the first piece down, “Me too.”

It’s hard not to be nostalgic already when you’re all chatting and laughing together, your chest feels heavy as you long for a memory in the making, one that you know you will cherish forever, even if you don’t have to because you’re sure you won’t ever have to spend the Christmas holidays without Ross—you’re determined to never let that happen.

Everyone sitting around the table showers you in compliments for the delicious dessert you’ve made, Ross’ mum asking for the recipe while everyone else asks for seconds.

“Can I get a double serving, sweetheart? You know, since I’m your favourite person here.”

You roll your eyes at him, but Ross knows far too well that you can’t say no to him. Not when he calls you that.

He could admit that sometimes he uses the pet name selfishly, but most of the time is just to see how you squirm under his gaze, completely unable to keep your cool.

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

He has been for a while. And that crush he knew he had on you, only grew stronger and deeper the more days he spent in your presence.

Matty had said once that Ross was in love with you and the bassist had never been more grateful that his best mate had at least waited until you were out of hearing distance for him to point that out.

But that comment swirled in the back of Ross’ head ever since it had fallen from Matty’s lips and it echoed loudly in his mind when you were near him, and it got horrendously louder when you were cuddling or hugging him.

Just like you are right now as you pose for your mum’s camera.

That Polaroid which had been the reason for your growing collection of pictures with you and Ross as the main focus of the frame. From your birthday pictures to pictures your mum had sneakily taken when the two of you fell asleep on the settee, pictures of you in your fancy dresses before you were off to a house party for Halloween and all of your Christmas pictures throughout the years.

Your arms are wrapped around Ross’ waist, one of his hands over your hands as if to keep you there and his other arm over your shoulder. The smiles are wide on your faces for the first picture but you know what’s happening next. Like clockwork, Ross is pressing his lips on your cheek for the yearly kiss picture you take under the mistletoe that hangs above you.

Mockingly, really.

Because Ross has long gotten tired of kissing your cheek, he wants to kiss you properly under the mistletoe and has been wanting to since the second time your mum made the two of you pose for pictures under the hanging arrangement of little branches. He remembered the twinkling lights around your house reflecting on your pretty eyes and he was gone; his lips itched to press on yours but he had held back, only because your mum was always right there.

But this time the obnoxious whirring of the empty camera alerts you all that the film has run out and your mum excuses herself to make a dash upstairs and get a new pack, warning you to stay right there for her.

You loosen up your embrace and let your arms fall limply on your sides to give Ross his space until your mum is back but he frowns as he looks at you and scorns, “Where are you going?”

It isn’t like you are leaving though, you’re staying right beside him but letting him free for a minute or two because you know how annoying your mum can get about pictures and how, despite his lack of comment on it, he only just tolerates it.

“She’s gonna take a while. We’ll pose again when she’s back.”

He huffs under his breath because he really didn’t want you to stop hugging him. But he takes the moment to look up the stairs as the noise of your mum making a clutter in her room as she looks for her film bounces down the halls and reaches the two of you. A loud ‘for fucks sake’ is heard from upstairs and your best friend hears you snort beside him.

Just when he was about to look back at you, Ross catches a glimpse of the neatly hung arrangement of mistletoe and, now really aware of the fact that your mum is out of sight and both your dads are heavily engrossed in conversation far away from where you stand, he knows this is the moment he’s been wishing for.

The feeling of his hands coming up to your face surprises you, but what’s more surprising is seeing him slowly leaning into you and you do nothing to stop it.

How could you stop it? When it’s something you’ve been thinking about obsessively for months now. The feelings that he brought you only heightened with time and you didn’t do anything about it other than keep it to yourself and sigh endlessly as you thought about him every day when you were alone in your room, writing everything down on your battered old diary.

Ross pauses when your noses brush, your breaths mixing with him this close to you and he’s about to ask when you just nod, almost missable if his forehead wasn’t pressed against yours and the movement causes his own head to move.

That was all he needed to close the distance and your heart explodes in your chest when his lips press against yours and his stubble itches your face as he starts to move his mouth on yours.

It’s quick because your mum’s footsteps coming quickly down the hall startle the two of you away from each other, but the kiss is enough to assure you two that the crushes you had on each other are much more than that.

And your mum captures the foolish smiles on your faces when that notion becomes apparent to you and Ross. This time, a kiss falls on Ross’ cheeks and your mum coos loudly at the dimpled loopy smile that breaks on his face.

You don’t say anything, because you really don’t know what can be said, and Ross doesn’t either, so you go on about the rest of the night like nothing’s happened. But the ache in your cheeks from how much you two are grinning dares to say otherwise.

Neither of you says a thing when the night’s wrapped up and you say goodbye. Ross really has to hold back from stealing another kiss from your lips when he hugs you goodbye, the attentive gaze of your and his parents posing a burden for his growing need to do that again.

But even the next morning, he’s wary of trying his luck again and, since you’re expecting him to make the first move again, you stop yourself from getting your hopes up and put it down to him just getting excited about standing under the mistletoe. After all, it is the rules of that tradition. So yes, you’re blaming it all on the mistletoe and you hope that singular word is enough of a bandaid on the little crack of your heart.

Yet, the heartache that the rest of Boxing day brings is a different and much stronger one when you and your friends are all splayed around Matty’s living room with sad smiles on your faces after having exchanged presents.

“It’s okay. We’re all coming back every Christmas and it’ll never change,” says Danielle, hoping that saying it aloud makes it become real.

The weight of the fact that half of you will be leaving town in September and it will all change, because growing up has been something none of you could avoid and life moves on, and unfortunately you have to move on too.

It’s somehow harder knowing that it’s you moving away. Matty had managed to convince the guys’ parents that the band was going to be a thing, something huge in no time, and therefore getting Adam and Ross to stay in Wilmslow—George was still dealing with his GCSEs, but even he wasn’t planning on doing his A Levels and going off to uni.

The thought of leaving everyone else behind, once again, makes you shake from anxiety when you think too much about it.

Losing all these people is enough of a nightmare to make your eyes well up with tears, ones you struggle to keep from spilling down your cheeks when everyone promises to be back every Christmas, speaking out what their plans will be for when the time comes.

Ross throws his arm around your shoulders when he hears you sniffle, hugging you into his side. That’s enough for you to start crying and in a matter of seconds everyone is suffocating you in a group hug.

It’s settled then that everyone is gonna make the most out of the rest of the week and your annual New Year’s Eve house party will be one to remember, to part with the best memories and only make the following years even better.

And you do just that.

Instead of spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve with Ross, the rest of your friend group sticks together and you all spend the days in different houses, watching movies, messing about, playing video games. A few afternoons you all escape to the skatepark and hide away to smoke or drink, enjoying the last bits of the togetherness that you have a bad feeling will be broken despite the promises.

When the 31st of December approaches, and you walk into Matty’s house with Ross behind you, you gasp seeing the scene set up for the night.

There’s much more alcohol than needed for how many of you there will be, rolled spliffs on the coffee table ready for anyone to smoke, an unnecessary amount of snacks that you know will do absolutely no help to help you from getting pissed quickly.

You’re grateful you ate enough to survive a few hours of drinking before blacking out, if it even gets to that point. Unfortunately, George can’t say the same because by the time everyone has arrived at Matty’s, he’s already stumbling around the place with those silly giggles of his stumbling out at absolutely everything around him.

Everyone else followed, knocking back drink after drink and smoking to their heart’s content until there’s nothing but loud laughter and yelling, and the place is trashed by careless teenage behaviour.

It’s wild to say the least, everyone is on the verge of losing memory of the night with every shot and puff they take, the drinking games do not help in the slightest and George has been picked up from having passed out on the bushes twice already.

No one really is sober enough to care about the countdown. Matty and George being the menacing duo they are when intoxicated are entertaining everyone inside with the shit they spout, everyone’s eyes are on them like they’re the most captivating clowns anyone has ever seen, getting loud laughs from everyone.

But despite the amount you and Ross have drank, you’ve got enough grasp on your logic to walk out and close the door behind you, ready to watch the fireworks go off as everyone greets the new year.

Ross lights up a cigarette beside you and takes a long drag with an ease that makes you roll your eyes. You’ve always struggled when smoking with them, trying to take a drag of a spliff always ended with you erupting in a horrendous fit of coughs that end up hurting your chest, you were a bit better with cigarettes, only that meant you coughed a little less and you could take multiple drags of it instead of just the one.

He still offers you it, knowing that since you’re drunk you are most likely to crave a puff or two. Your fingers pluck it out of his accompanied with a soft, “Thanks.” that he smiles at.

As expected, you cough when the smoke hits the back of your throat but you don’t give it back, you hold your breath to stop yourself from coughing and try again. This time it burns way less so you can let the smoke go down until you can relish in the feeling and then let it out upwards.

Ross is staring at you with glistening eyes, fighting a grin that wants to break on his face just from seeing you like this. He finds even the most mundane things you do so incredibly endearing, it’s tragic how much of a hold you have on him and he just can’t stop it nor does he want to.

Yet, the real tragedy is that he doesn’t know exactly what to do. He knows what he wants to do: kiss you and cuddle you, hold your hand in school, have you close to him all the time; but he has no idea how to make that happen.

And time is ticking now, your imminent goodbye looming on him like a dark cloud in the horizon and he can’t help but think it might be stupid to risk your friendship selfishly when it’s soon that you’ll be gone.

But when everyone inside starts counting down in a horribly loud and drunk choir, Ross is brought out of his head. There you stand in front of him, fingers holding out the cigarette for him to take, a smirk on your face as you wiggle the stick for him to take, and there’s only one thing that Ross is thinking.

After that taste on Christmas day, he can’t just let this opportunity go. Not when it’s set so perfectly for him to make the move.

Ten, nine, eight…

He steps right in front of you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand and tossing it to the ground before wrapping an arm around your waist, his right hand coming to cup your face.

Seven, six, five, four…

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your mouth hanging open as he starts leaning in. Your gazes stuck on the other, pupils dilating as the moment you’ve been both thinking about for days seems to happen all over again.

Three, two, one…

His lips are on yours before everyone can even finish saying one, their loud “Happy New Years!” doesn’t even startle you out of it. The noise only makes his fingers dig harsher on your face and his mouth grows more intent on yours, tongue licking your bottom lip and with a breathy whimper, you welcome him by parting your mouth.

Your lungs burn after what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure it isn’t your brain stretching time out like a string of melted candy. The only thing you can do is curse yourself for ruining your lungs' capacity by having a brief smoke; if you’d only known Ross would be stealing your breath with a kiss, you would have declined.

You pull back with a gasp, trying to take as much oxygen into your lungs, chest heaving with your ragged breaths.

Yet Ross is composed as he lets his eyes flutter close and presses his forehead against yours. Your heavy exhales hit his parted mouth, your noses brush, and you feel your heartbeats in your ears.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks and your body betrays you when you dip forward to join your mouths again.

It’s barely a kiss, more of a string of pecks that you manage to drop on his parted lips as you try puckering your lips in between trying to catch your breath.

Ross giggles breathily.

You stop, pulling back and looking into his eyes, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It was foolish of you to expect that university would be an easier change than moving towns in the middle of high school, yet you had held out hope that this time things would be easier; with your age and the aspirations you had, you expected all that to fuel you into fighting your struggles when change happened, but how wrong you were.

A miraculous day was one when you wouldn’t cry, staring at your phone as you tried to decide whether or not it would be a good idea to bug your parents once again, or if it was time to come clean to your friends back home about how you actually were feeling.

You never really made a decision. You felt guilty enough keeping this from your friends but you didn’t want to burden them with your stupid issues that all were rooted in your lack of ability to adapt to new places. Your parents were really the only ones who half knew how you were coping, but even then it was a very tame account of what you were really going through.

That is why you’re incredibly giddy now on the coach back home. You don’t even care about it being crowded and feeling way too observed by eyes you’ve never met, neither do you care about the smells around you nor the loud snoring coming from behind you.

All you can think of is how excited you are to be home during your favourite time of the year, to see your friends, to hug Ross so tightly you are sure it will rid you of all of your troubles.

You really wanted to see Ross.

It wasn’t like you never spoke on the phone but with your inability to cope with change, there were only a few evenings throughout the week when you weren’t sobbing your eyes out enough to deal with your academic responsibilities and then make calls back home.

So it was needless to say that you’ve been counting down the days until holiday break, and you just couldn’t wait to get to that road you had met Ross and run down to knock on his door and crush him in a hug.

Your knee bounces up and down as you think about all the things that have been going on back at home, how the world back there has kept spinning around without you and it makes your anxiety creep up your spine.

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)

124 notes · View notes

enrosadiraanisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

Within Session .Part Six.

Holy shit, happy December and Merry Christmas y'all! I'm so happy to finally post another chapter of Within Session. Yes, its been a while but starting a new job is stressful. Thankfully, I figured how to manage time. This part is extremely long, more than 5k. words. I'm proud of myself! This fanfic consists of Yandere!Leon Kennedy. I intend for this fic to progressively become disturbing and fucked up with each chapter. While the first few chapters will be tamed, expect the following in this series:

~Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced Breeding, Degradation, NonCon, Gang Banging, Forced Pregnancy, Somnophilia, Blackmail, Manipulation, Abuse, Pet Names, Obsessive Behavior (Duh), Torture, Constraints, Mentions of Blood & Gore, Mental Degradation, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Masturbation, Drugged & Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Forced Penetration…

Also you will be retconned (Too bad 😏): Female Reader, 24 Years old and from Texas 💝 (yeehaw)

This story was purely written with RE 4 (Remake) Leon in mind. So no puppy dog Leon from RE2 or DILF Leon from later games & movies. The story takes place several months after the events of RE4. Yay, you’re in 2004!

I plan to make this series long and fleshed out, but I promise what you want will hit you like a train~🚂

This story does contain +18 content (NSFW) 🔞 If you’re a minor, please go read a real book or something, don’t cry to me when your mom finds your shit.

Summary

As an on sight therapist for STRATCOM in Nebraska, you’re tasked with providing quality therapy for US military personnel and government agents. After working at the headquarters for 6 months, Hunnigan recommends you to a notable government agent, Leon Kennedy, who is in need of therapy. After a number of sessions with you, Leon notices a substantial stability in his sanity yet is threatened when you are offered a position back home, closer to your family and friends. Your choice doesn’t sit well with one particular client, who can’t fathom you out of your role as his therapist. Leon has found a means of keeping his precious therapist and realizes you are the key to his permanent solace. You were obviously destined to be his in some form. Why dream of him letting you go?

A\N: I was heavily inspired by Satoshi Kon’s Perfect Blue 💙, ExploreVenus’s Something Permanent and Guardian Angel by NexysWorld. We're finally getting into the nitty gritty of the story. Reminder that if you're not comfortable with male obsession and stalking, this is not for you. But if you're fucked up like me, please enjoy this! This is a really long chapter, hope y'all like it. 😉 Please comment on what how you feel about this chapter, I'm a whore for feedback. Hate it? Comment. Love it? Comment, por favor.

This is the longest chapter with 5k words, pretty much twice than I typically write for a chapter. Keep this in mind if you are wondering why, it seems longer.

Hope y'all enjoy the sixth part! More to come 💝~ Anisssa أنيسة

Here is Part One , Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five of Within Session

Blue Monday

For several months, the disdain for the winter season was prominent as the days were still short of daylight. Along with the absence of familiar faces from family and friends from home, winter blues roused thoughts of returning to home. Even with the presence of Mateo and his buddies around at the house, it never satiated your homesickness. The transition into this New Year was strenuous, yet you continued the routine of attending to clients at the USSSTRATCOM headquarters during the week, the occasional LAN parties hosted on weekends with the dudes, and friend dates with Hunnigan. Still, you could not deny there were urges to pull out your suitcase and call quits on the government position. Home was not here in Nebraska.

Now in the middle of February, the extensive drive home seemed to kindle symptoms of burnout. Upon opening the entrance door to your apartment, the dead silence prompted your eyes to glance around the living room for the presence of your roommate, Mateo. For once you arrived home before him. With every step further into your living room, the floor boards seemed to creak under pressure. Your body immediately gravitates towards the couch, slumping on the cushions to sprawl out in exhaustion. In one hand, you gripped your purse while the other held a bouquet of flowers.

Until the last session earlier today, it did not dawn on you that today was Valentine's Day. Leon, of all people, arrived at session with a bouquet of roses in his possession with his usual smuggish smirk. The gesture caught you off guard that you simply accepted the bouquet without protest. This questionable offering from him was unpredicted, a moment of vulnerability impelling you to accidentally violate a simple policy between client and therapist.

A groan emits from your mouth, decisively kicking off the heels to note how sore your feet were. No doubt the roses in your hand were beautiful, but they were from a client on this particular holiday. You grunt in disapproval, instead eliciting to assume he gifted the roses for his appreciation for your dedication to him as his therapist. Yes, those thoughts brought peace of mind. But you then realized the price tag sticker on the bottom of the bouquet.

“Holy fuck! Who spends $80 on a bouquet of roses? Well shit, now I’ll feel guilty if I toss them out… Dammit, Leon…”

Leon Kennedy, a client you have been providing treatment with for the last three months since November. Along with his substantial progress in his intervention goals, you had the opportunity to further learn about the peculiar character that is Leon. Every session he never failed to crack jokes on whim or comment snide remarks, his attempt to speak off topic. Beside his efforts to conceal his discomfort with humor, there was also an underlying suspicion that Leon was withholding details regarding certain discussions. He avoids topics through escape by immediately steering the conversation. Every instance that Leon avoids a subject, you take note of it, knowing somehow you would eventually touch base on it.

With the bouquet of roses in your hand, you notice several detached rose petals on the couch cushion. A pang of guilt coursed in your chest, registering the maltreatment of the flowers in your grasp. Despite the aching pain in your feet, you stand from the couch to walk to the kitchen in search of a vase. You were no flower arranger but the glass vase you found complimented the red of the petals. Next session you would have to bestow some gratitude to Leon, since the guy deserves some appreciation for the gift. Maybe the man really was trying to express his reverence, Valentine’s Day was not all about romance, right?

In the moment of admiring the roses you placed in the glass vase, you realize that it has been a while since you have received something like this from anyone. While you let out a gentle huff, your hands reach out to rearrange several roses until you were appeased with the arrangement. Then the abrupt ringing of your phone from your pocket interrupted your trance from the vase of roses, a phone number unbeknownst to you displayed on the small screen of the flip phone.

‘It’s an area code from Texas… is it from San Antonio, Dallas, or Austin? But who calls late on a Monday night?’ You decipher, debating the thought to answer the call knowing the area code was from one of the major metroplex cities.

This time you sigh, adjusting your throat to answer in a pleasant tone. “Uh, hello?” You greet hesitantly, holding the pink flip phone to your ear.

A gentle feminine voice responds with “Hello…” along with your full name.

The utterance of your first and last name from the unknown voice nearly startles you to the core, immediately furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“This is her… Uh, who are you?” You ask, slight concern obvious in your question. Was this call a scam?

On the other end of the line, the female voice chuckles lightly into the phone,”Sorry to call this late, I am from a counseling program partnered with a foster care facility based here in Austin. We are looking for new recruits with the right credentials. I came across your application from a year ago and I am curious if you would still be interested in doing an interview and perhaps be interested in joining our team? From your application, I can see your address is in Corpus Christi.”

At that moment you seat yourself on a chair in the dining room, glancing at the adorned vase of roses on the dining room table. This was an unmistakable opportunity that manifested itself in one phone call, but you could not allow yourself to become excited so soon.

“Unfortunately, I am not living in Texas at the moment. I actually took a therapist position here in Omaha, Nebraska. I won’t be able to schedule an interview, I apologize,” You express in a solemn tone, assuming this would end the conversation.

“Oh, if you don’t mind…. We can do an interview right now over the phone.” The lady mentions, followed by silence on her end.

You direct your eyes at a digital clock in the distance, noticing the time was a little past 9PM, which meant no minutes were being wasted.

“Sure, why not…” You respond, guessing this opportunity was unprecedented to simply dismiss.

For the next 30 minutes, you were asked a series of questions, mostly about your experience and qualities. In your efforts, you answer professionally while you slug against the dinning chair in exhaustion. Your hand became cramped as you gripped the flip phone to your ear. Every time you glimpse back to the vase of roses, you notice several petals shed from the roses. With one rose petal, you twindle it between your fingers as you speak to the woman over the phone.

“I’m impressed with you, I really think you would be a great addition to our team. I’d like to offer a full time position, with a Monday through Friday schedule. Instead of hourly, you will be paid a salary with benefits. If you need help with moving, we can pay your first few months of rent wherever you decide to move in Austin. How does that sound?” The lady expresses, seemingly to be entirely impressed with you.

For a moment, you were hesitant as the offer seemed too good to be true. “When can I start?” You then ask, feeling the sweat in your palm as you grip the phone to your ear.

“Since you said you’re out living in Nebraska, I can give you a month… March 14th on a Monday, and we will run a background check and proof that you can work in the US. Nothing major, it’s usually quick. For any certifications you need, we will pay for them…” The woman explains, her voice cheery with every word.

By the end of her explanation, your body involuntarily begins to shake. Several thoughts coursed in your mind yet the most prominent thought was obvious… you were finally returning home.

“I look forward to starting,” You respond, matching her voice of enthusiasm.

“That is great to hear… Well, I will let you enjoy the rest of your night. Please call this number again if you have any questions or updates,” She infers.

“Thank you, have a great night!” You add before clamping the flip phone shut, ending the call.

In that moment, your body slumps in the chair while a long exhale of breath escapes your mouth. Every part of your body was jittery to the point it was difficult to contain despite the laborious deep breaths exercises and your hands crossing to squeeze your upper arms. No doubt, the ticket home seemed to magically appear on your lap. Maybe the universe had finally answered your prayer, and within a month you would travel back home.

Tears formed, your eyes evidently becoming glossy while you were seated slumped on the dining room chair. With tears flowing down your face, a part of you felt ridiculous for becoming this emotional.

The front door knob jiggle, the sound of keys from the other side of the door interrupting your mini crying session. Once the door opens, you whip your body to direct your attention to Mateo standing there in the entrance. The evidence of crying was still conspicuous as your cheeks were entirely wet and your eyes were puffy.

“Ah shit, did I come home at a bad time?” Mateo mutters, cautiously setting his black bag on the floor by the entrance after he shuts and locks the front door.

“No, you little jackass. I just got a job offer back home… I start in a month,” You respond in a sincere tone, cracking a subtle smile to Mateo.

Mateo appeared taken back, now walking into a plethora of confounding information. With a few steps into the dinning room, he sits beside you at the dining table. He notices the vase of roses placed on the center of the table yet does not comment on them for now.

“Are you moving because of me?” Mateo questions, a pout forming on his face. He was honestly a child at times.

“Huh? No, absolutely not because of you… I just think I have overstayed here in Nebraska, and need to return home so I can be near family,” You explain, your tone heartfelt as you glance at Mateo with a grin.

Mateo deeply exhales, his brown eyes narrowing at the sight of you, “I guess I'll allow you to leave… on the condition you visit,” He expresses smugly.

A soft chuckle emits from your mouth, nodding in agreement to his prerequisite,” Deal…But I plan on moving out in three weeks. Tomorrow, I am putting in my two weeks resignation letter. Some of my clients are not going to be happy.”

To your verdict, Mateo expresses a solemn smile before his hand points to the roses you arranged in the vase earlier,” So… who bought you these?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll let you guess, but the answer is obvious,” You respond bluntly.

“Leon?” He answers immediately with his lips curved in a grin.

“Mhmm..” You hum, scratching the side of your hair with a finger. “He arrived at session with them, and pretty much shoved them in my arms. Never been so caught off guard,” You then comment.

With a sudden snap of your fingers, you jolt up to stand before scurrying across the room to your bag, “Oh shit, I almost forgot, he also gave me a card. I haven’t opened it yet.” Within a moment, your hand digs inside your beg to then reveal a red envelope once you pull it out. By holding the red envelope in hand, you return to seat yourself at the dining room table beside Mateo, ripping the side of the envelope with your hand. A blank expression instantly appears on your face once you slide out the Valentine’s card. By opening it, you notice a gift card and Leon’s writing inside the card, “Mateo… He gave me a gift card to Chili's… Dude, look what this says…’To the spiciest therapist I know’... What the fuck does that mean?!” You glance at Mateo, biting your lip from amusement and disturbance simultaneously.

Mateo only burst out laughing, snatching the card from your hand to read Leon’s writing closely, “Damn girl, what you be doing to him during your sessions, huh?” Mateo questions you in an accusatory tone with a hint of humor behind it.

“Absolutely nothing… Goodnight!” You huff, snatching the card from his grasp back into your possession before stomping off to your bedroom.

By next morning, you were able to have written a two weeks notice letter explaining your resignation with a clear date that you would be concluding your tenure with USSTRATCOM as a therapist officially on Tuesday, March 1st. The following days were heart-wrenching, revealing to clients that you would be concluding your position as their therapist and only a few sessions with them remained. Several clients congratulated your new position while others simply were in denial of your departure, or expressed their grief to you.

Friday eventually arrived with the anticipation of preparing the last client with the news of your resignation. Instead of being seated at your desk, you waited patiently for the arrival of Leon on one of the two chairs that you would usually sit during the session. Every minute that passed, you contemplated on how to deliver that in a few weeks, you would no longer be his therapist. Last Monday, he gifted flowers and a gift card to you, clearly there was a modicum of admiration from him. Would he congratulate the advancement in your career or distress over your inevitable departure like other clients? You could not rationalize with yourself on why you were nervous to tell him.

Right at 5PM, you heard the knock on the door of your office. Leon was always on time for his sessions when he was not sent away on missions. For his division, you still did not know the kind of work he did but only that he was revered as a top dog in his position.

Upon hearing his steps, your eyes instantly gravitate to his ocean eyes piercing back at you as he treads further inside the office. Leon seats himself on the chair across from you, an obvious grin plastered on his face. No words were exchanged, but your thoughts spiraled,’Shit, should I tell him now?’ Your thoughts debated but you shook your head on the notion.

“Leon, how has it been these past few days?” You then ask, mustering a soft smile on your lips.

“Great, since I knew I’ll be seeing you today,”Leon smooths, leaning comfortably back into his chair.

Your lips falter, steering to not encourage this behavior from your client. “Leon, how many times have I repeated to you to respect the boundaries between us?” You remind him, followed by a soft sigh. This was his mindless flirting that recently sprung up in sessions.

“Too many times, miss. I apologize,” Leon chuckles, averting his eyes to the side at the floor. Ultimately, those icy eyes return their gaze to you even though his face was directed away. “So Miss, how were those roses I gave you last time?” He questions you, his eyebrow quirks as he awaits your answer.

“They were nice, I was able to place them in a vase. Thank you… But understand that as a therapist, I could lose my license for accepting gifts, okay?” You remark, your tone firm with blank expression.

His tongue clicks along with a small nod, “Oh no, I can’t have that happen. I- We need you here…” Leon mentions, his gaze studying your face.

As you examine the features of his face while he spoke, you realize how exhaustive his features appeared. Before he could utter another word regarding gifts, you interfere,”Hey, how are you sleeping as of late these past few nights?”

In that moment, his grin deflates in an almost surprised expression. Leon adjusted his throat, shifting in the chair.“I’m experiencing nightmares…” Leon admits, blushes blooming on his cheeks.

You expected him to retort with humor or downplay his exhaustion. But Leon was actually opening himself to you about his nightmares. This was an opportunity too good to let pass by. By extending your arm to your desk, your hand grabs a notebook and pen. Every detail that he verbalizes, you need written down.

With your pen awaiting on the lines on the paper, your eyes return to his face, the bleak blue in his eyes not as bright as they usually are. “Describe what you remember from your dreams, Leon.”

“Burning bodies, blood caked on my skin that did not belong to me, and things I can’t even explain…” He shifts in his seat again, his voice feeble.

His narrative could not paint a picture for you, the few details not being enough, but only suggested he endured an incident so horrifying. On paper, your pen scribbled down the only two details he described: burning bodies and blood on skin.

“Leon, can you recall an incident you might have seen or experienced?” You ask, bringing the top of the pen to your lips.

After a moment, his head shook,” No ma’am, I simply have watched Dawn of the Dead too many times,” He chuckled, seemingly forcing a smirk.

If you could roll your eyes at this moment, you would. An internal scream echoed in your head, and you nearly wanted to slap your forehead with the notebook in your hand. When he finally opens up about something regarding his trauma, he fucking does this bullshit… again.

Instead of proceeding in your usual passive tone, you adjust your voice to become stern,”Leon, do you honestly need this service?”

He was clearly offended at the change in tone in your voice, his eyes narrowing at you. An expression you never expected to witness him guise, yet you kept your composure. “Yes, I do,” He merely responded, his voice consisting of no humor.

“Then please help me, help you. These past few months you have progressed, but you would honestly be further in your treatment if you allow yourself to open up. I’m not expecting you to explain everything in one session, but understand if you were a bit more cooperative, I can guide you more efficiently through your trauma. I’m not a therapist that wants you to be in therapy forever…” You breathe out along with a huff.

The words seem to echo into the room as the room falls into silence, Leon just sitting there with no words to exchange. Nonetheless, every word spoken from your lips was valid. But on the back of your mind, time was inching closer for you to reveal the news.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, miss. I know I’m your favorite client,” Leon retorts, that same smug expression on his face.

This session was going nowhere, 30 minutes somehow wasted. Time was working against you, so it would be easier to rip the band aid off the wound, right?

“There was never a competition between my clients in the first place. I regard and care for all my clients equally, Leon,” You retort, directly staring at his eyes. “Also…” Your voice proceeds along with an adjustment in your throat. At this point, it can not be helped, he deserved to know. “Uh, to simplify it… in a few weeks I will no longer be working with USSTRATCOM, I’m moving back to Texas. But don’t worry, I already notified the next therapist on your case on your goals and what we worked on.”

The heart in your chest was beating, feeling anxiety ridden, but nonetheless you revealed the big announcement. Then that same tense quiet air settled into the office once more, Leon had a blank stare directed at your face. Those eyes of his blinked several times before he mustered a warm smile. “That’s very sudden news, but congratulations,” He breathed, his fist clenching on his thighs.

While an exhale of air escapes your nose, the ache in your chest seems to ease away. This time, you permit yourself to smile in response to the commendation from Leon. “I really appreciate the congratulations from you… But we will still conduct session the same until I leave. So tell me…what is an incident that may be a considerable source that prompts your nightmares, Leon?”

“Wait-” He utters, tilting his head as his mouth tries to form words. “Can you at least explain why you’re leaving? I know three months is not a long time, but I have made so much progress with you…”

His voice betrays him, nearly breaking yet Leon sustains a smile on his face. Subtle taps on the floor peak your attention, your eyes glancing down to notice his foot tapping on the floor.

“Sure, I can explain… Um, I have close family in Texas, and my next job allows me to be closer to them,” You answer simply, keeping your voice calm.

You see Leon nod in his head in acceptance as he glances down to his hands resting on his lap. “I see… just… you don’t seem like a Texas gal..” He chuckles, bringing his gaze back to you.

A laugh emits from your mouth, not expecting Leon to return to his whits suddenly. “If you expected me to wear a big cowboy hat and speak with a twang, I might just punch you,” You suggest with an empty threat, raising a fist in his direction while your other hand holds the notebook to your lap.

Leon lets out a fake gasp while appearing offended. “Hmm, sounds like someone is in need of anger management.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” You retort, pursing your lips at his remark.

“I think? Oh, honey, I am funny…”

‘Honey?’ This little endearing nickname riled your core, perceiving it as condescending, nonetheless you opt to let this slide. With a small sigh, your eyes peer to the clock on the wall, silently thanking the universe that only 5 minutes of the session remained.

“Alright comedian…” You speak, leaning over the armrest of the chair to grab the clipboard from your desk, “It’s that time you give your signature, and that will be all for today’s session.”

Leon chuckled once you extended the clipboard to him before he wrote his grand signature: ‘Leon Kennedy’ on the signature line. He extended it back to you, except his expression appeared solemn.

“So you really are leaving Nebraska? Quitting USSTRATCOM to move back to Texas?” He inquires, no hint of humor in his voice.

Your head nods, only responding with a hum in agreement.

“Well I’m happy for you… I will see you next week,” He expresses, giving a brief smile before he leaves the office.

“Bye Leon!” You call out, proceeding to shut and lock the office door after he leaves.

An exasperated groan iterates into the empty room, letting out that strenuous hold of breath out your chest. While the complicated part of informing all the clients was settled, now the actual moving process was the next course of action. At that moment, you reluctantly retreat to your desk, knowing that the legal documents, session notes, and insurance signature sheets need to be submitted to your supervisor before you can leave for home. It was Friday, all you wanted to do was drink to your heart's content, play video games, and pass out on the couch. Typical Friday night shit.

In time, all necessary documents were submitted to your supervisor. The familiar brunt whirl of flurries stung the skin of your cheeks once you step outside the building, being welcomed into the dark parking lot. Every step along the parking lot was careful while you walked towards your car, seeing the red among the white.

Even inside the car, your body shivered, desperate to warm up. The inconvenience of the winter night sky entirely made it difficult to see in your car, but you were able to insert the car key into the ignition. With anticipation for warm air, your wrist turns the key forward.

Kkkkkkk.

The sound of the car struggling to start only furrowed your eyebrows in response.

Naturally, you turn the key one more time. Two times. Three times. With a disgruntled groan, you continue to turn the key, your foot persistently pressing the gas pedal.

“No no no no. Baby don’t do this to me now!”

With every desperate turn of the key, the car only responded with jerks before dying completely. Hot visible breaths huffed from your mouth, that bitter cold was already piercing through the fabric of your clothes. Your hand pulls out the key from the ignition and your foot ceases from stepping on the gas pedal. That sense of anxiety crept into your chest once more at the awareness you were oblivious to the malfunction in your car.

Your hand decides to reach down to pull down a small lever, hearing the familiar pop of the hood. While hesitant, you then retrieve your flashlight from the middle console before returning to the brunt winter weather as you exit the driver’s seat. Once the hood is propped up on the stand, you click the flashlight to instantly illuminate the engine under the hood. The problem was then apparent, the light revealing ripped spark plunges that were supposed to be connected to the engine.

“Oh, what the fuck…” The words seem to let out, unsure how this happened to your car.

Crunches of ice behind you alleviated you from deep thought, prompting you to immediately whirl your body to the source of sound. Light from the flashlight directs to a broad figure, startling you to where you nearly scream. Your hand points the flashlight up and you recognize the familiar sandy blonde hair.

“Leon?” You mutter into the air, your eyes widening at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” You then ask, pointing the flashlight down from his face out of courtesy.

“I heard a car struggling to start, so I thought I would check it out…” He responds, proceeding to walk to the open hood of your car. Leon glances down to the flashlight in your hand, gesturing you to hand it to him. “Here,” You whisper, extending the flashlight to him. While he holds the flashlight, he directs it down to the engine, “Damn, your spark plugs are damaged,” He remarks, his demeanor confirming your earlier speculation.

“They were recently replaced, this shouldn’t have happened,” You retort, your tone obviously confused.

“Well they look like they've been bitten… Maybe a small animal searching for warmth crawled inside and decided to chew them out,” Leon suggested, returning his attention to you.

Leon’s revelation was plausible but when you return your glance to the spark plugs, the damage appeared like a clean cut as if they were physically cut by something. Regardless of how they were damaged, your current situation ensured that you were stranded in the parking lot of your job. The road conditions were horrible, piled with snow, and you honestly did not know how long a tow truck would get there.

While you contemplate your options, you hear Leon adjust his throat. “If you like, I could drive you home. It’s cold and dark now, there’s not much you can do," he suggests.

Spark plugs were easy to install, but to travel to a nearby auto shop was complicated enough in this weather. Your head immediately shook at his offer, shifting your attention to his face. “Thanks for the offer, Leon, but I have to decline. I’m still your t-“

“Therapist. I know. Miss, it is dark and freezing. A tow truck would take an hour… I can’t leave you out here,” Leon interjects, his tone stern to prove a point. “Come on, let me take you home. It wouldn’t be an issue for me at all,” He continues, proceeding to let down the hood of your car.

Deep down, you knew his proposal would violate ethical codes as a therapist, but his persistence swayed your verdict. Your body was visibly shaking while you stood there, glancing around the parking lot to ensure no one was watching. “Fine, but straight to my house, Leon.” You sternly express, going to quickly retrieve your purse before returning to his side.

You hear chuckles from Leon while you follow him to a black SUV, obviously a government vehicle. “Perks of being an agent,” Leon mentions, his voice laced with humor. It honestly seemed he was enjoying this.

By sitting in the passenger seat, you experience the loving warmth of heat from the vents once Leon turns on the car. A pang of guilt coursed at the realization you were leaving your car behind at the parking lot. “So you drive a Nissan Z? Didn’t think you’re into cars like that, especially with turbo,” Leon strikes a conversation, driving off the premises of the USSTRATCOM parking lot.

“Ah, it was a parting gift from my dad. She is practically a family member…” You say, blushing a bit.

“There’s no shame in that, it’s actually interesting you’re into cars. But I could definitely swing by in the morning and I could personally switch out the spark plugs,” Leon offers, shifting his attention to you in the passenger seat.

“If replacing the spark plugs is no hassle, then I am okay with it…”

Leon grins, ecstatic that you conceded to his assistance instead of blatantly rejecting his offer. For a moment, he remained quiet as he drove on the snowy desolate streets before eventually realizing he did not know your address. “Ah shit, I got ahead of myself. Tell me where to drive from here to get to your home,” Leon nervously chuckles.

In response, you nod with an assuring smile, ”That’s fine…”

Other than Leon’s rock music playing on the stereo, the car ride became quiet as the exchange of words died down. The moments you only spoke were when you provided directions to your house. Soon the sight of the familiar Victorian house was in view, although you notice a line of cars parked in the driveway and street, along with an absurd amount of people hanging around the house. Once Leon gradually slowed infront of the house, he turned his head to you sitting in the passenger seat.

“This is your house?” He asks, turning down the volume of his rock music.

A sheepish smile appeared on your lips, nodding to Leon,”Yeah, I guess my roommate decided to throw a party.”

Leon returns his attention to the amount of men chilling on the front porch, drinking beers or smoking cigarettes despite the freezing air. You see Leon narrow his eyes at the scene yet smirks when he glances back to you. “Looks fun… but I will see you in the morning, right? Is 9AM alright?”

Your head nods frantically, presenting a pleased smile on your lips,”Uhh, yeah. It sounds good,” You reply, somehow almost forgetting about your car stranded at the parking lot of your job. At that moment, you open the passenger car door before slipping onto the pavement of the road. “See you tomorrow, Leon! And thank you for taking me home…”

Leon seemed content, before waving off to you, "I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night,” He responds. Once you shut the passenger door, he drives off, leaving you to watch him as you stand there in the middle of the road. A nagging intuition provoked an uneasiness into your body regarding this night. Nonetheless, you decided to ignore your paranoia since there is a party that required your attendance because even God knew you deserved it after this whole week.

#leon kennedy #re4 leon #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 remake #leon x fem reader #yandere!leon x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #female reader #within session

71 notes · View notes