#and sorry but she’s not like a mother to him?? what?? why??

[the-boy-meets-evil]

lost in the west | kmg

(where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating)

pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance rating: explicit, minors do not interact word count: 18.1k warnings: eating, drinking, mentions of christmas and holiday celebrations, reference to mingyu being afraid of heights, some minor family dynamic issues, so much kissing, fingering, big dick!mingyu, sex (just plain old missionary), i think that's it

author's note: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios studios for hosting the winter with you collab! it's been so fun to be part of (even if i forgot for a second that i had to include sunrise sledding, but we're ignoring that). i'm sorry this is a little late as a holiday fic but sometimes life happens and inspiration just doesn't want to strike. i'm not even going to say it's longer than i intended because that's just my brand atp. this is largely unedited.

author's note 2: i think there's going to be an epilogue but idk when that will be possible

tag list: @vitaminkyeom, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya (join my taglist here)

“You’re bringing your boyfriend back with you, aren’t you?” your mom asks, which makes you look sharply toward the phone. It’s on speaker because you’re in the middle of folding laundry. Your best friend also looks over towards your phone with a grimace, which makes you wish it wasn’t on speaker.

The thing is…you haven’t told your mom that your ex and you broke up about two months ago. Didn’t want to deal with all the sighing and interrogation while you’re rushing to finish end of the year deadlines at work. Somehow, you know it’ll be your fault. Never mind the fact that he cheated on you in your own apartment. But, that’s another story. Your mother will say something about how you shouldn’t be so picky and everyone makes mistakes. Say that sometimes it’s not your most attractive trait that you’re dedicated to your job. Say that you’re not getting any younger and remind you how many of your friends from school are already married or even having kids of their own. That’s one reminder you don’t really need. You see it every time you aimlessly scroll through your feed. Or when you open the mail and see another wedding invitation. 

You sigh. “Well, actually…” 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” your mother says with her own sigh. “You broke it off with this one, too?” 

“I’m not going to get into it with you,” you say, gentle but firm. 

“I don’t understand what could have made you break it off. You said he was like your best friend,” she reminds you. 

This earns an eye roll from one of your actual best friends, Mingyu. He takes over folding your clothes for you as something to do and as a way to speed up the whole process. 

“Well, he’s not and I don’t see any reality where I will forgive him for what he did to me. So, let’s move on,” you say. 

“Maybe that’s okay. You know, one of my friends has a son who’s single and I could just…” she starts.

“No, absolutely not,” you say. This causes Mingyu to stifle his laughter with a hand.

“I don’t understand what the harm in meeting him is. He seems very nice and you’re not exactly getting any younger,” she says. 

There it is. The conversation always somehow ends up at the same point. You’re not getting any younger. All your parents’ friends have been planning weddings and getting grandchildren. They all seem to understand the importance of building a family. Why do you have to be so focused on what’s wrong with every person you date? Why are you too wrapped up in work? Your parents constantly remind you how you seem too wrapped up in the city life to realize what you’re missing.

“I just don’t think…” you start but then trail off when Mingyu starts waving at you to get your attention. He’s pointing at himself and mouthing something you can’t understand.

“I know you don’t think, but just…” your mom starts and you mute yourself so you can figure out what your best friend wants.

“What, Mingyu?” you ask, sharper than you intend.

“Take me back with you for the holidays,” he says. 

“What?” you ask.

“Take me…” he starts.

“No, I heard you. What are you on about?” you ask. 

“You can just feed your mom some line. Tell her you and I just started dating. It doesn’t matter. Anything to just get her off your case,” he says.

“I’m not…what is wrong with you? I’m not going to just fake date you like some weird holiday movie,” you argue.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Those movies aren’t weird, they’re great. And second of all, what do you have to lose?  Your mom loves me and she’ll be thrilled to see me. I already know everyone that’ll be at the parties and dinners. My parents are out of the country visiting my sister and her new boyfriend for the holidays, so I was only going to my cousin’s as kind of a pity invite. It can’t possibly fail,” he says.

“There are a lot of ways it could fail, actually,” you point out.

“Wow, are you going to leave me stranded for the holidays? I’m already rethinking this relationship,” Mingyu says through a pout. “My own partner doesn’t even want to spend the holidays with me. Are you embarrassed to bring me around your family?”

“So what do you say?” comes your mom’s voice. You had been blocking it out while talking to Mingyu, yet it still catches your attention.

You quickly unmute yourself and look away from Mingyu. “I…actually can’t, Mom. I’m sort of seeing someone different, but it’s new so I wasn’t going to mention…” 

“Oh, you already found someone new, that’s wonderful!” she exclaims. 

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know that he’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too satisfied. Even if he’s mostly kidding about being abandoned for Christmas, you know that it’s been bugging him that his parents decided to go abroad. You also know that he wouldn’t ever dream of inviting himself to tag long even if that’s what he wanted to do. He actually likes your family, sometimes more than you do. 

“I’ll have to ask him if he’s willing to come with me, but…” you try to say before your mother cuts you off again.

“Tell him it simply wouldn’t be the holidays without him. I can’t wait to meet him. Oh, I’m going to tell your father. We may manage to get you married after all,” she says in seemingly one breath.

“I still haven’t…” you try again without any luck.

“I can’t wait to see you both! Love you!” she says. 

“Love y-...” you say, but she’s already ended the call. 

“I guess I have holiday plans after all,” Mingyu says and you fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“This is a terrible idea. I can’t pretend we’re dating,” you say and crinkle your nose.

“Oh, wow, have I offended your high standards?” he asks. “Should I remind you of your last two relationships?”

You do throw the pillow at him this time. 

Despite all the questions from your parents about just who is coming home with you for the holidays, you insist that it needs to be a surprise. You definitely think that your parents will be surprised when they see Mingyu on their doorstep. Even though you only met Mingyu in college, the two of you have been nearly inseparable since then. He’s come with you to countless family events to keep you company, especially between other relationships. Your parents buy him Christmas presents every year and insist on video chatting with both of you on his birthdays. Your younger cousins ask when he’s going to be coming around again because they look up to him, both literally and figuratively. It’s kind of annoying sometimes because you wonder if they like him more than their own family member. But, you reason it away with them liking him for the same reasons that you do. He’s just so easy to be around, though they get more of his polite company attitude than you do. Around you, he’s much more relaxed and somehow more prone to pouting to get his way. 

More unfortunately, the pout always seems to work on you. You pretend to be annoyed with it (well, it’s not always pretending, actually), but you give in every time. Which is fine when it’s just the two of you. It’s less fine when other friends are around because they all have smug looks. Convinced that you and him are end game and neither of you realizes yet. The worst, though, is when he slips into the pout mode around your family and you have to deal with the looks from your family members. It’s all worth it to have someone to act as a buffer, even if you’ll never tell him as much. 

Before you get to that point of seeing your parents, you figure that you should stop by to see your childhood best friend first. Of course, he already knows the whole story with Mingyu and doesn’t seem entirely surprised. After all, he’s also known your mom nearly his whole life. Somehow you went from kids forced together when the parents hung out to adults that actually still genuinely love each other, which means he knows Mingyu well too. In his role as best friend, your current situation will not spare you from his teasing. That’s a role he’s happily embraced all your lives. 

The smirk on his face is present as soon as he sees you and Mingyu walk into the coffee shop. Mingyu hasn’t even spotted him while he unwinds his scarf and heads to the counter to order drinks. You say you’re going over to sit with your friend and only then does Mingyu notice you’re not the first ones here. 

“Hey Kwan, you good on your drink?” he calls.

“Yeah, thanks,” he calls back before his eyes turn on you like he’s got a secret. 

You make your way over to his table and try not to react to the look he’s giving you. Typical Seungkwan looking like he’s about to burst with the latest gossip. Even when he knows exactly why you have Mingyu with you and even said, over text, he gets why you agreed. Ugh. You know better than to think he’ll let you live for even a second. Sometimes you think you need better friends.

“Has he gotten taller?” Seungkwan asks, casting his eyes over at your other friend. 

“No, but for real,” you say with a laugh. “I swear, I see him constantly and I still feel like he’s getting taller.”

“Constantly, huh?” Seungkwan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re best friends,” you say with a sigh.

“And what am I?” he asks. 

“Also my best friend. There’s no rule on having only one,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Are you nervous to head back to your parents’ house?” he asks, entirely switching approaches. 

It’s not your first rodeo, though. “Why should I be? They like Mingyu, at least, so there won’t be any of the awkwardness beyond explaining that we’re dating now.” 

“Which probably isn’t going to come as a surprise to them,” Seungkwan says. 

“I mean, why wouldn’t it be a surprise?” you ask before you clock the look on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me this is more of that bullshit about how often I bring him around. You know my family is insufferable if I have to deal with them alone.” 

“No, I just know for a fact that they’ve wondered if you were dating him before,” Seungkwan says as Mingyu finally joins you with two coffees in hand.

“That would mean she would need to have good enough taste to date someone as great as me,” he says when he sets your coffee in front of you.

“I’m so torn,” Seungkwan admits. “I could insult her taste in relationships, which, love you babe, but really? Or I could insult you as not really being any better than anyone she’s dated.”

“That one gets us both, though?” you point out, only a little offended.

“Option two it is,” Seungkwan agrees. 

“Okay, enough of that. Fill me in on everything before I have to walk into the lion’s den,” you say. 

It’s always the same when you catch up with Seungkwan. He’s thriving even though he chose not to leave the area where you grew up. It’s not that big of an area, but he’s found opportunities. You just found those opportunities a little further away. Just far enough away that your mother can’t easily pop by unannounced. That lead time before she shows up is usually enough that you can mentally prepare. 

Seungkwan, for his part, really does brighten up the entire space, when he’s not being a demon. He’s got that kind of shine that can’t even be dulled by staying in the same general area as his family. He’s also better at setting boundaries, which he gently reminds you again. He doesn’t need the space and preparation time of his family showing up at his place unannounced because they all know that’s not allowed. It’s not that you’re a pushover, it’s just that it feels different. Even your parents seem to respect Seungkwan more than you at times. You try not to let the cynicism of being a woman seep into those feelings. But, it’s hard. Harder still when Seungkwan gives you the sympathetic look like he wants to agree and knows it won’t really help anything. He’s always been that special brand of ally. The one that actually does want to help and understands the inherent privilege.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan and his family won’t be coming to the events that your parents have planned for the next week, though they’re always invited. They wanted to do something more focused on their family instead. It probably seems like something over the top to anyone on the outside. To you, it just seems normal. This is how your parents always handle the holidays and most events seem to take place at their house. 

All too soon, Seungkwan says that he needs to get back to something and reminds you that you can’t put off going home any longer. You’re already getting dangerously close to what your mother considers late. It’s probably not the best idea to test her patience before the week even starts. 

Mingyu takes care of getting you over to your parents house. Maybe fake dating him for a week won’t be so bad when he takes care of driving without asking and doesn’t even need an address. Since he also already knows your entire family, he doesn’t need help with getting gifts to bring with him. That includes both something to give them when you get there as well as actual Christmas gifts. You remember telling him that wasn’t necessary and remember the look of horror on his face when he asked what kind of fake boyfriend he would be if he forgot. Despite the weirdness of the situation, you also find yourself far more at peace than the last time you brought an actual partner home like this. Mingyu has seen you through a lot of ups and downs. Knows when to be serious and when to crack a little joke to break the tension, even if it’s something only for your ears. 

That all disappears as soon as your mother greets you at the door with a look of genuine surprise on her face. 

“Surprise,” you say. It seems a little redundant because she seems shocked. “You, uh, you remember Mingyu, right?” 

“Of course, of course, come in out of the cold,” she says, recovering quickly as she steps out of the way. “Let me get your coats.”

“I know this is probably a bit of a surprise,” you start.

“It definitely is,” she agrees as she takes Mingyu’s and your coats. “Your father is just in the family room.”

“I figured it would be a good surprise,” you offer as you start to follow her into the house. 

“No, of course it is. We adore Mingyu, you know that,” she says with a soft smile for Mingyu. She’s always loved him. “We just, well, we thought you and him had broken up…”

“Broken…what?” you ask, your own shock now matching your mother’s as you come to a complete halt. 

Mingyu seems to just stay quiet through this entire exchange. You’re wondering why until you look over at him to see that he’s barely containing his laughter. Of course he would find this whole thing funny. Maybe he believes Seungkwan that your parents have wondered if you were dating him. Or maybe he’s just quicker on the uptake. Whatever it, it would be annoying if your brain wasn’t working overtime to try and catch up.

“Yes, you said you’d broken up with a boyfriend. Your father and I realized we hadn’t actually met the last person you dated and we just assumed, since you only mention Mingyu. Well, you said he was like your best friend and we knew it wasn’t Seungkwan. Mingyu only made sense,,” your mother says with a shrug. 

“Mingyu! What are you doing here?” your father asks, rising from his seat to shake your best friend’s hand. 

“Dating our daughter, apparently,” your mother says with a skeptical look. 

“Oh, good! I’m glad you kids worked it out,” he says. 

“Did…everyone just think I was dating…?” you start to ask, looking confusedly between your parents. “Mom, Dad, I was not dating Mingyu. We were only…”

“Friends?” your mother supplies through her heavy tone of disbelief. 

“Yes,” you say, eyes wide and desperate looking to Mingyu for support.

“We really were just friends,” Mingyu says. “I mean, I guess not just friends. But, seeing her go through another heartbreak just made me realize that I didn’t want to see her go through something like that again. I guess it just made me realize how much I do care about her. So, I finally said something.” 

There’s a lot that you can count on Mingyu for. Driving, having an endless supply of oversized hoodies to steal, a stocked kitchen, the best meals of your life, 2 am chats, support through break ups, hating the same people, being scared of his own shadow, a perpetual golden retriever energy, endless loyalty, and the list goes on. Something you never expect to count on Mingyu for, though? The lie that spills so easily from his lips to try and get your parents off your case. Sure, he knows just how much you struggle with your relationship with them. This is different, though. The lie sounds so sincere and his face looks so soft when he glances over at you. 

“You know, it’s okay if you just got back together,” your mother says, looking between the two of you. 

“Oh my god, that’s not what happened!” you say, throwing your hands up. 

“Of course, dear, of course,” your father says. 

“I should go take our suitcases upstairs. Am I just in the normal guest room?” he asks. 

It’s both a deflection from the conversation and a valid question all rolled into one. Whatever the case, it does work for long enough to have your mother refocus her attention on Mingyu to answer. That gives you at least a second to catch your breath. Bringing Mingyu was supposed to give you a break from your parents. And it will, you think, but it’s also bringing up a lot that you hadn’t planned on. You wonder what Seungkwan will say when you tell him about the reception. Probably that he told you so.

“Oh, no dear. We planned to have you stay in our daughter’s old room with her,” your mother says.

Great. Now you’re in an entirely new spiral because, what? She has you and Mingyu staying in the same room where there is only one bed? You can’t remember the last time she was this relaxed with a partner you brought home, which brings up even more questions. Has this really been the plan? Or is only the plan now because of how much they like him? Is this just another way for them to try and nudge you into marriage?

“But, mom…” you start to protest.

“We’ve got a full house with family, dear,” she says as an explanation. 

“I know where it is, I’ll just take the stuff up,” Mingyu offers.

“I can help,” you say as a way to get out of this whole thing and to talk to your friend.

“Pretty sure I’m strong enough to get some luggage upstairs,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you go up with him anyway? Then you can freshen up before dinner,” your mother says with a poorly disguised look at your slightly wrinkled clothing. 

Mingyu insists on carrying the bigger suitcases upstairs on his own, but you grab the smaller bags you had in the car with you. Well, except for his backpack that he also stubbornly carries. You don’t need a personal demonstration, you already know that he’s strong. You also don’t need to hear your mother talking about how nice it is to have such a polite young man around like he hasn’t been around a million times before. Once you’re inside the room and behind a closed door, you round on your friend.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Your mom actually letting you and a boyfriend stay in the same room? I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” he asks.

“Not that, what was with you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” he returns, looking up from his suitcase where he had been getting ready to unpack. 

“That whole answer you gave my mom,” you say and he looks almost pitying.

“I have to make it believable, don’t I?” he asks like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Otherwise, she won’t buy it and she’s going to try to set you up.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you concede. 

“Kind of wild that they thought we’d been dating, though,” he adds on.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask with more force than you mean. 

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re your parents.” 

“Seungkwan said the same thing,” you remind him. 

“About people thinking we’re dating?” he asks, eyes back on his suitcase.

“Yeah,” you say.

He only chuckles before he looks up. “Come on, that’s not the first time either. How many of our friends have thought the same thing?”

“They’re just fucking with us,” you disagree.

“And my ex?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Okay, well in my defense, she was insane. The whole idea that people of the opposite sex can’t be friends is an insane take,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly upset to be rid of her,” he agrees.

“Come on. We better hurry up and get back downstairs,” you say.

The rest of the day is somehow just as weird, but also comforting. As the rest of the family starts arriving, either to stay or just for dinner, you find out that most of your family thinks you’ve been dating Mingyu. Or that it was him that you broke up with and are now back together with. It’s hard to tell if it’s something coming from your parents or just a general vibe that the two of you give off. You can at least acknowledge that you didn’t talk about your last relationship much with your family. Hindsight is always clearer, but you still think you knew something was off in that relationship the whole time. Knew that he wasn’t destined to go the distance. Maybe that’s why the break up didn’t hurt that bad. Honestly, the worst part was thinking of facing your family alone for Christmas.

Mingyu saves you from that as he’s saved you countless times before. 

That brings you to the more comforting part of the evening. You can’t tell if any of your family members actually buy that this is a new relationship. At least, none of them seem to think it’s fake. You can probably put up with it if they just think you’re lying about when you actually got together. That makes it all feel much easier. Then, there’s the fact that your entire family loves Mingyu. It’s the first time you can remember joining the dinner to kick off the family Christmas festivities in years. Your family takes the holidays very seriously and it’s Mingyu’s first time experiencing it like this. Yet, he slots right in with everything. 

It also feels like he’s thought through this whole fake relationship in ways you didn’t. Sure, you talked about some of the ins and outs since this isn’t just a quick overnight trip. But, mostly, you just decide it’s easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. The friendship is so deep that there’s genuine love there. You don’t have to fake that. What you did not consider is physical affection. You’re not the kind of person that drapes yourself all over a partner, never have been. There’s a moment where you worry, as you watch your cousin and her fiancé, that you and Mingyu could be found out for not showing enough affection. 

A few minutes later, you’re wishing he would be less affectionate. And you’re not even sure why you worried. The first thing you really learned about Mingyu was that he was incredibly physically affectionate. Tight hugs, random hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your arm or leg. It’s all just par for the course with him. It’s gotten even more obvious now that he’s pretending to date you. It seems so innocuous, too. He’s got his hand on your thigh, giving the occasional squeeze, while he’s talking to someone else. He randomly plants a kiss on your temple. He leans over to whisper something to you on the pretense of being close and usually it’s nothing. You don’t even realize that it has most of your family giving each other knowing looks. Like they’re still not convinced you hadn’t been dating before. 

By the time it’s late enough to go upstairs, you’re more than ready to have time away from your family. Every time you think that you’re social, your family is there to humble you. Or maybe it’s just that being around them is too draining. In any case, you and Mingyu head upstairs together. Thankfully, your parents house is big enough that it feels like there’s a little bit of privacy in your old bedroom. 

“So, how’s this going to work?” Mingyu asks, glancing at the bed and then into the attached bathroom. 

Okay, so maybe, even with how big the house is, you haven’t fully considered everything. You’re not really sure what to do. It shouldn’t be weird. You and Mingyu have shared a bed before. This just somehow feels intimate when your entire family thinks you’re sharing because you’re in a relationship and don’t know this is all pretend so you can have a little bit of peace for the holidays. Your gift to yourself. Shaking it all off, you turn to Mingyu.

“I mean, we’ve shared before. It’ll be fine,” you say. 

“So are we not gonna talk about the last time we shared?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

Racking your brain, you can’t really think of anything that would make him say that. Had something awkward happened? Did one of you do something that you should really remember? Just as you’re about to go into a full blown spiral, you feel Mingyu appear before you. He reaches out to smooth out the line between your eyebrows.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he says with a laugh. “You whined about me taking up too much space.” 

“Oh my god,” you say and swat at him. “It was a tiny bed and you took up the entire thing! You can’t do this to me when I’m already wound tight over my family.” 

“Sorry,” he says and throws up his hands. The sparkle in his eyes says that he’s anything but. 

“I’m going to change and then start my skincare routine,” you say as you move to grab something to wear to bed. 

Without even asking if you’re dressed, Mingyu comes into the bathroom to start doing his own skincare routine while you’re in there. He’s already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which you know is more than he normally wears to bed. It’s somehow peaceful to go through your routines in silence like this. You consider that it might be in part because it forces him to be quiet. Not that you usually mind his chatter, it’s just that your brain is already tired from one night dealing with your family. You can’t imagine how the rest of the days are going to go and are thankful for the downtime when you’ll be able to get out of the house to do things. 

Once you’re back in the bedroom, you both finish off all the little things you need to do. You plug in your phone after checking for any important notifications, grab the TV remote to fling it over to Mingyu, and slide under the covers. Usually you just kind of scroll before going to sleep or sometimes you’ll read. But, you think it might be weird to do those things when you’re sharing a bed with someone else.

“Do I need to make a pillow wall or something?” he asks as he’s flipping through to find something to watch.

Your head whips to the side to look at him. Even though it’s only his profile, you can see that he’s smirking. Purposefully not looking at you because he knows it’ll break the little composure he has. To deal with that, you whack him with a pillow. 

“Just don’t drape your entire body over me,” you say.

“Why?” he asks and does turn to look at you now, wiggling his eyebrows. “Afraid it’ll be too close?”

“No, you fucking goober, you’re just heavy,” you say through a genuine laugh.

“How is this relationship ever going to work if we’re calling each other names?” he says, pretending to be heartbroken. 

“Same way it has for like 8 years,” you joke back with a soft smile. 

“Are you saying you love me?” he asks, hand on his heart. This is one of your favorite things about your friendship with Mingyu because he’s so dramatic that it takes your mind off everything else.

“I don’t know, I’m rethinking it,” you say and turn back to the TV. 

“I love you too, you know,” he says, voice soft enough to make you turn back to him.

“I know, Gyu. I don’t think anyone else would put themselves through this for me, so thank you,” you say honestly. 

He just shrugs and goes back to a lighter place. “Well, I didn’t have good holiday plans and who can say no to this level of entertainment?” 

The next day actually gives you time to catch up with some of your family members more personally instead of everything being such big conversations. That’s especially true for your cousin, Mimi, who’s only two years younger than you and has always been your favorite of your cousins. Even if you go months without seeing each other, it always feels like no time passes. There’s just a level of closeness and understanding between the two of you. You can complain about your mothers since they’re sisters and honestly the same person, just in a different font. It’s easy to be on the same page about things as well. 

You’re actually a little surprised to see that she’s here alone, even though you know she recently got out of a bad relationship. Somehow, it seems her mom is more understanding than your own. She was also much more honest about how the relationship fell apart after 3 years and her mom is sympathetic about it. When she says it like that, you understand. Your last few relationships have all been measured in months rather than years. 

“You’re not, like, actually dating Mingyu though, are you?” she asks quietly when it’s just the two of you.

“Mimi,” you hiss and look around.

“We’re alone,” she assures you with a wave of her hand. “So, spill.”

“No,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she says unconvincingly. 

“He was with me when my mom was bugging me about the holidays and bringing someone with me. Then she was going to set me up, so he just offered…” you start.

“He was the one who suggested it?” she asks, far more curious than she should be. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. “Again, why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just always thought he was cute and I was wondering if he’s actually single.” 

“You cannot hit on Mingyu,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She gives you a look you can’t place before brushing it off.

“Oh, I’m not saying I would. It’s just good to know I could,” she says.

“You can’t,” you remind her. “Everyone thinks we’re dating.” 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it anywhere anyone else could see,” she teases. 

Of course, another of our cousins picks that moment to join you, so you can’t further chastise Mimi. It irritates you all the same though. How does she think it’s just fine to do something like that when you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship? Could she not just wait to hit on him until the rest of your family wasn’t watching with too much attention? 

Normally, Mimi is a respite from the rest of your family. She’s one of the few people that you’re always completely honest with. Now, she’s taken that away. You try to go about the rest of the day with her knowing that the relationship is fake and she seems like she’s trying her best to get under your skin. Every part of you wants to stop her from chatting so much to Mingyu and you can’t. It would seem weird when everyone knows that you and your cousin are close. Weirder still when she always knows Mingyu relatively well from every other time he’s been to some family event. 

When you excuse yourself up to your bedroom for a second away from your parents and their incessant hint dropping, Mingyu slips into the room just after you. Which is odd, considering you had not even seen him also slip away. The second odd thing comes when you look at his face. He looks more serious than usual, more tired. It doesn’t fully make sense because he’s incredibly social. Loves to be around people in the way all true extroverts do. Something must be wrong.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks after closing the door.

“You don’t ever have to ask,” you say with clear apprehension. 

“Did you tell Mimi we weren’t actually dating?” he asks, still looking at you in a way you can’t place.

You exhale, thinking it’ll be nothing. “Oh, that, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you, I just…”

“Did you also tell her that I’m very single and she should go ahead and shoot her shot?” he asks and you stop short hearing that.

“I - what?” you ask.

“She just kind of cornered me and was laying it on super thick, but she said it was fine because she knows we’re not really dating and that you’d encouraged her to…” he starts and you immediately cut him off.

“What the actual fuck, Mimi?” you say in frustration. 

“I mean, if you want me to…” he tries to start again, looking a little like a lost or kicked puppy. It makes you immediately close the space between you and him. 

“Gyu, no. I did tell her that we weren’t actually dating, but I absolutely did not tell her it was okay to do any of that, let alone encourage it,” you say. 

“So you don’t want me to flirt back?” he asks. He’s still looking Too Serious when he says it and you’re not really sure how to feel.

“Since we’re supposed to be dating, I’d prefer you didn’t. But, if you think she’s pretty it’s not like I can stop you,” you say noncommittally. 

“Of course I think she’s pretty. You and your whole family are pretty. It’s like something in a TV show or some shit,” he says and this is a Mingyu you recognize because he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, says the guy who looks like that,” you say and vaguely gesture at him.

“I…did you just compliment me?” he asks, totally off track from wherever he was going.

“That depends, did you compliment me first?” you deflect. 

“You’re such a shithead,” he grumbles and you tsk at him.

“Now, now sweetheart, should we really be name calling?” you tease.

He fixes you with his attempt at an unimpressed stare, but he’s nowhere near as good at it as you are. Like every other time, he relents first. “I’ve probably told you how beautiful you are hundreds of times in our friendship.” 

“Which I’ve always returned,” you lie.

“Be so for real. I have to pull most compliments out of you,” he says through a snort. When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “Most compliments that are not about my cooking, I should say.”

“People fall all over you,” you say with a good natured eye roll of your own. “Do you really need to hear me also say you could easily be a model?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbles through a pout.

“Oh, beautiful Mingyu,” you start, taking on the silliest voice you can muster. “You’re so pretty that I could cry. Your face breaks hearts every day, your smile lights up the room, your hair…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he says even though he looks pleased.

“I cannot believe Mimi, though,” you say.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to push us together,” he admits.

“Why? Not interested?” you tease.

He answers seriously, though. “No. She’s pretty, sure, but no, I’m definitely not interested, even if I wasn’t pretending to date you.” 

That honest answer strikes something in you. Not that honesty is unusual between the two of you. It just feels like there’s also an element of vulnerability in the response as well. Like he’s saying something that you just can’t quite decipher. You just brush aside for now, though, since there’s nothing else you really can do. 

Mingyu, as it turns out, has one winter time tradition that he’s always wanted to try and never had the chance to do: sledding. He’s never lived in any place where it’s snowy enough or there’s enough free space. But, up here in the relative mountains where your parents live, sledding is a way of life. It’s something you’ve done countless times growing up with friends or family. Part of you is even a little thankful that he wants to do it, too. It’s been years since you’ve gone sledding and getting to see his face when you go for the first time feels special. Feels like something that’s just for you. 

Which is why you’re up before the sun. 

Last night, when you talked about sledding and getting an early start, Mingyu was on board. Now that it’s time to actually get up, you can see it written all over his face that he’s regretting every decision that’s ever led him to this moment. Like the true best friend that he is, though, he’s keeping the actual grumbling to a minimum. You’re not sure why you’re not also grumbling. You’re not a morning person. But, you’ve never gone sledding at sunrise either and something about it just seems like it’ll be magical. Like it really will make it an entirely new experience for you and him to share. 

The house is quiet as you grab the bag of snow pants and winter jackets that you packed the night before from the closet in the entryway. Everything feels so peaceful in the house and just as still when you leave. Like even the soft sound of the door is too much while the whole world sleeps. You can hear the slight crunch under your feet as you trudge over to Mingyu’s car and take care not to be too loud getting in. Thank him again for driving when you know it’s way earlier than he wants to be awake. All he does is smile like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be. 

The drive to the hill where you’re going to sled is quick and also tranquil. Even the music is soft like Mingyu is afraid of disrupting the peace. Or maybe you’re both just appreciating something different than the normal bustle of life in a city. It’s never this kind of quiet there and there’s something kind of beautiful about it. Even the parking lot is empty when you get to the small hill that you used to sled down as a kid. You’ve never seen it empty before. Then again, you’ve never been before the sun rose, either. Mingyu takes care to unload the sleds before you both bundle up. It’s not terribly cold, but you make him put on the waterproof gear anyway. 

He stops at the bottom of the hill and looks towards the top. “We’re going all the way up there?” 

You can hear a little bit of nerves in his voice. Mingyu has never been a fan of heights. This isn’t that high, though, and you nudge him playfully. Well, it doesn’t seem high to you. “I think you can manage. Come on.” 

Climbing up to the top is always your least favorite part because it uses the most energy. Not that you mind the activity, it’s just a lot of work for a relatively short ride back down the hill on the sled. At least this hill has stairs built into the slope off to the side to help you. Once you’re at the top, you plop down with Mingyu right beside you. It’s less about catching your breath and more about appreciating the view. It seems like you can see for miles even though you’re not that high up. The sun starts to rise and you know it’s all worth it. All the shades of orange and pink stretch across the horizon as the sun makes its way over the distant mountains. There aren’t any words that come to mind to really capture how beautiful it is. The colors are more vibrant against the white of the snow all around you. Everything feels magnified in the quiet space. All either of you can do is utter out a soft wow to express your awe. 

And then the quiet really is broken.

“Okay you expect me to slide down that on a piece of plastic?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice. 

You follow his gaze and look down the hill, because it really is only a hill. Not anything crazy. It always looks a little more intimidating from the top, but it isn’t anything all that high. 

“Oh come on you giant baby,” you tease and nudge him. “We got all the way up here, how else are you going to get down?” 

“Walk back down the stairs they so nicely provided?” he offers. 

“That’s crazy,” you say.

“I’m afraid of heights!” he shouts, more panic in his voice. 

“I know, Gyu,” you say, instantly softening as you approach him to put your hand on his arm. 

“I didn’t really think this through,” he admits.

“Why did you agree to sledding down a hill?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out over vista before him. You watch as a calm comes back over him. The kind of calm that can only come from a setting as pretty as this one. Watch him take a couple steadying breaths. Even though you’ve been friends with Mingyu for years, you’ve never really seen his fear of heights firsthand. Couldn’t have imagined it would kick in for something as seemingly innocuous as a small sledding hill. Though, admittedly, it is a pretty decent size. It’s definitely not just the kind of hill people sled down in their backyards or local parks. 

“Because I wanted to try sledding and do something new. And this hill seemed important to you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to say no to something you ask me to do when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask to avoid considering a deeper meaning to his words.

“I don’t know. You get all starry eyed,” he says with a shrug. 

“How about this? We can go down together and check it off the list. You don’t have to sled again,” you offer. 

“We came all the way out here,” he says, unsure.

“And I got to see the prettiest sunrise of my life with my best friend beside me,” you say easily.

“Okay, okay. I can at least try,” he says.

You get up and send the smaller of the sleds down the hill without anyone on it in case you really only take the one ride. It would be a hassle to have to come back up and get it. Then, you position yourself on the bigger sled that’s meant for two people (or three kids sometimes when you were younger). Once you’re in place, you motion for Mingyu to settle in behind you. Point out where he can put his legs on either side of you, which already feels closer than normal even with how affectionate Mingyu can be. You adjust so that your back is pressed against his chest. It’s about the right balance to the sled so that you’re less likely to topple over on the way down. Mingyu has to crowd into your space to wrap his arms around your middle because he’s bigger than you are, something you hadn’t considered when suggesting this. You can almost tell that he’s considering burying his face in your hair, but stops short.

At least, until you push over the edge with a combination of wiggling and using your hands to push your forward. That’s when he buries his face. Then, you’re slowly picking up speed as you slide down the completely untouched snow. It’s always best like this, in your opinion. Before there are lanes carved into the snow. Yes, those lanes pack the snow down and can make you go faster, but you can also catch an edge and topple over more easily. 

None of that is really on your mind once you start descending though. All you can think of is the way Mingyu’s body feels pressed against yours. How it’s very foreign but also very comforting. How you can understand why your whole family so easily believes that you’re together. The comfort is effortless, something you don’t ever think about. It just exists. You focus on how funny it is to have this giant of a man wrapped around you like a koala with his head buried in your hair now because he’s nervous. You don’t even consider any other way that it might make you feel. When you let out a squeal of delight as the sled picks up more speed, you feel, rather than hear, him grumble by the tickle of his breath in your hair. It only makes him cling more tightly to you. 

It’s almost disappointing when you feel the sled level out at the bottom of the hill and slow down. It’s been the perfect way to relive one of the parts of your childhood that you loved the most. Getting to do silly little things like this really was one of the best parts of winter. You’re fully stopped before you realize that Mingyu is still clinging to you with everything he has. So, you carefully place a hand over his and feel him untense the tiniest bit.

“It’s okay, we made it to the bottom in one piece.” 

Slowly, he loosens his grip on you and actually looks up. Again, you feel this rather than seeing it. You feel the absence of his body heat and only then realize just how tightly he was clinging to you. Mingyu pulls his face out of your hair and seems to look around, as if testing that you’re really at the bottom of the hill. Like he’s not sure it’s over that quickly. 

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was a lot of fun.” 

“Do you think…could we maybe go again?” 

Both of you are standing up again now and it makes you whip your head around to look at him because you can’t believe this scaredy cat actually wants to go down again after how much it took to get him down the first time. His face is hopeful, though, and you’re not about to start saying no to that face now. Not when you never have before. So you match his smile. 

“On one condition,” you finally say. Mingyu only looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “You have to actually keep your eyes open this time.” 

“You don’t know I had my eyes closed,” he insists with a pout.

“Gyu, your face was in my hair,” you say through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Eyes open. But, I have my own condition, too,” he fires back, still kind of pouting. 

“Yes?”

“I want to ride together again.” 

It’s easy to agree to that. Even though you don’t say it out loud, it’s kind of fun riding with him, especially when the hill is so untouched. He’s tall and muscular, very helpful when it comes to carving a path and also picking up speed. He adds to the momentum and you like going faster. You don’t consider telling him that he wouldn’t go quite as fast without you because you would be losing on as well. It’s not a bad deal for either of you, really. Mingyu gets to work a little on a fear of heights on something much more manageable and you get to live out your best sled dreams. 

Each run gets a little bit easier. Mingyu holds up his end of the bargain and actually opens his eyes, which is more entertaining to you than it probably should be as he curses all the way down that first run. But, he keeps wanting to go and you’re not going to stop him. Don’t realize that maybe he also keeps going because he loves to see the way your face lights up each run. Neither of you makes an effort to get the other sled again either. 

By the time the sun is fully risen, yours and Mingyu’s cheeks are rosy from the cold. And also from the way you’ve taken to running back up the steps to the top like kids. You have to admit, even if it means he’ll get a big head, this is the most fun you’ve had in your hometown during the holidays in a long time. Honestly, it might actually be the most fun you’ve had anywhere in a while. It’s nice to get back to something simpler without worrying about anything else. Life can get busy back in the city between work and chores and endless responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice to just take a break from it all. Remember that there are more important things than just working all the time or being stressed about things you can’t really control. Maybe there’s something to simplifying life a bit. 

Now that the sun is rising, it’s a more acceptable time for people to be out and about themselves. Kids can convince their parents to take them sledding as well. At the first sign of people approaching, you and Mingyu agree that it should be your last run. You’re starting to get a little tired and you know it’ll get loud. You don’t mind having the kids around, you just know it gets harder to avoid everyone and you have to wait longer between each run. Besides, you planned something post sledding as well. It catches you off guard that he actually seems a little sad to be leaving. 

That is, until you take him to this little hole in the wall of a breakfast place. It’s something new because you’re not usually in this area when he comes with you to family events. Not that it’s far, it’s just a few towns over and there are closer places. Until winter comes around again and the elderly couple that runs the place roll out their secret recipe for hot cocoa. Honestly, you could probably just drink that without even ordering anything to eat and be the happiest person in the world. The food is amazing too, though, and you didn’t eat before leaving to go sledding. You and Mingyu order a few things to share and laugh all the way through it, talking about sledding and the trip so far.

“Thanks for this,” he says as breakfast is winding up.

You’re a little surprised at both his words and the gentleness of his tone. “For what?”

“Taking me sledding like this. That sunrise was amazing and I, well, I guess I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did,” he admits, a little more shy than you’re used to.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” you say and can’t quite place the look he gives you.

“I think I’d trust you with just about anything.” 

The day before Christmas is always the same. By then, you’re in desperate need of a break from your family and you think they may be in need of a break from you as well. So, each year you get together with Seungkwan and some of your other friends that still live in the area. Anyone with a partner brings them along and you have a nice, boozy brunch. This year, Seungkwan is hosting because his place is spacious and the group seems a little bigger. It’s also nice to get to really spend some time at his place since he’s only been there a few months. 

Typically, a few people in the friend group will bring over some pre-made things to warm up the next day as well as everyone bringing whatever they want to drink and share. That’s the same for this year with a slight change. Mingyu, once he sees the kitchen, says that he just has to make some food as well. After taking an inventory, he heads back out to buy more things that he needs, ignoring any of your protests and only agreeing to take your card so you can sort out the cost with your friends. (You’re not going to do that because you don’t mind just covering it, but you don’t want him to cover it either.)

When he gets back, he immediately goes into the kitchen and your friend Vernon’s girlfriend offers to help. She drags Seungkwan’s sister, who doesn’t usually come around, with her as well. Mingyu only leaves the kitchen long enough to bring you one of the mimosas that he made, insisting there’s a special ingredient. Then, it’s back to fully focusing on the food. Not that you really mind. It’s nice to just be in a low stress environment with your friends to catch up, have some drinks, and laugh a lot. 

Vernon, after looking around to make sure nobody else is listening, shows you and Seungkwan the ring he’s been walking around with for the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s finally settled that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend tomorrow on Christmas Day. You’re thrilled because they’ve been together forever and she already feels like family. Seungkwan nearly bursts into tears, which you have to quickly cover so nobody realizes what’s happening. You love that your best friend is like that. It’s just not the time if you want to keep it a secret that Vernon wants to propose. 

It also feels nice to be in a group where you don’t have to pretend. Nothing changes all that much for how you and Mingyu are together because he’s always affectionate with you. But, you get to trade any of the not-so-subtle comments about when you’re going to get married to the relentless teasing about how he passes as your boyfriend so easily. It’s nice to have someone joking about it and you find you don’t even mind. Especially when Mingyu chimes in with his own little comments from the kitchen. There seems like there’s a lot of laughter in there as well. 

“You’re going to have to dress him better if he’s going to keep posing as your boyfriend,” Seungkwan jokes and you look over at the kitchen. 

Mingyu is wearing this kind of awful green zip up sweater. It’s not even that nice, soft material. But, he insisted on wearing it because he wanted to wear something with Christmas colors and it was the only thing he had apart from his outfit for tomorrow. It makes you roll your eyes again remembering it.

“I know,” you sigh. “Usually he dresses so well and then there’s that.” 

Your eyes drift back over to him in the kitchen again and you kind of wish you hadn’t looked back. You catch him as something falls off a spoon he’s using to taste test and onto his skin. And, without seeming to think about it, he sucks it off his hand. Then, licks along his finger for good measure. It makes your heart stutter a little in a way that’s completely foreign to you. Why are you so entirely transfixed by someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and fake boyfriend doing that?

“Hey, you good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping in front of your eyes.

You shake your head to clear it before turning back to him. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Uh huh,” he says skeptically, but you catch his eyes darting over to Mingyu. 

“Don’t,” you warn him, causing him to throw his hands up in defense. 

“I won’t,” he says. “But, if you decide you want to talk about it…”

“Talk about what?” Mingyu asks. You hadn’t even seen him leave the kitchen. 

“The issue she’s having with Mimi,” Seungkwan lies quickly. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave me alone.” 

“And that seems to be driving both of you crazy,” Seungkwan observes. 

“Well, yeah, our bestie is just being a good friend and she knows I’m uncomfortable,” Mingyu says before you can answer. Is that all it is? For the first time, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a best friend,” Seungkwan says with feigned distaste.

Mingyu tries to give The Look again, but fails even worse than with you. Nobody can outdo Seungkwan and so he gives up. “Food is ready.” 

“Oh good, I’m starving,” Vernon interrupts. 

The rest of brunch goes by without Seungkwan making any other comments. To you, at least. You don’t see him sit down next to Mingyu after the food is done like it’s casual and unplanned. Nothing that man ever does is either of those things, though. What you do notice is how easily he fits into this group of friends. Sure, he knows Seungkwan pretty well and he’s met nearly everyone there. But, he doesn’t get to spend much time around them. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. It isn’t really surprising, if you think about it, because they’re all close friends of yours and he tends to think you have good taste where friends are concerned.

It is a little weird, you think as Mingyu sits on the other side of the room, that he seems to be a little glued to his phone now that things are getting closer to wrapping up. He checks it mid conversation and furrows his brow at whatever he sees. Both seem unusual. Mingyu is always one of those people that gives his full attention to a conversation. Unless it’s an emergency, he likes to be present in a moment. It’s one of your favorite things about him. It’s also unlike him to be so upset by something on his phone. You can’t think of any person that would be creating that reaction from him. Or anyone that he wouldn’t just ignore until later. You try to put it out of your mind as best you can. If it’s something serious, he’ll talk to you about it. At least, you hope. 

Any other time, you would be thrilled to have your favorite cousin staying at your parents’ house for the holidays. She’s always been your confidant and one of your safe spaces. Now? You can’t stand it. You really wish she would be literally anywhere else. Just the sight of her is getting to be enough to set you off. It seems like she’s really taking it to heart that Mingyu is single. You’re not sure what her game is and you hate it. 

Of course, she manages to corner you the second you’re back to your parents’ house. You’re not exactly paying all that much attention, though. The end of brunch with your friends had been a little weird, even if nobody else noticed it. Mingyu accepted all the praise for the things he made, but was distracted by his phone. Someone, you’re not really sure who, kept sending him messages. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be making him happy. Not that you really have any right to ask him who’s blowing up his phone. It’s just a little weird. Usually he’s so present in events like brunch. It’s odd to see him constantly checking his phone. Odder still that he had headed off to the bedroom as soon as you got back. You’re a little buzzed from the mimosas. Mingyu, on the other hand, is very sober.

“There you are,” Mimi says, appearing as if out of thin air. It makes you jump back, hand on your heart.

“Jesus,” you gasp out.

“No, Mimi,” she jokes. Any other time, it would make you laugh. You’re not so entertained with her now. 

“What are you sneaking up on me for?” you ask instead. 

She rolls her eyes and looks around. “I’m not sneaking up on you. I was just trying to catch you away from the others.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have that fake boyfriend of yours on such a tight leash?”

Out of habit, you look around to make sure nobody is listening. Everyone seems too busy, though. “I don’t have Mingyu on a leash.”

“Then explain why he’s basically refusing to answer any of my texts,” she says, arms crossed.

“I don’t know why…wait a minute. Was it you texting him while we were at brunch?” you ask.

This, somehow, seems to satisfy her. “Oh, so he’s not telling you who’s texting him.” 

“I didn’t ask, honestly.”

“Well, I don’t see why he’d be ignoring - “

Your brain catches up then. “Hang on. How the fuck did you get his number?” 

Mimi rolls her eyes again with a huff. “Please. You’ve had the same passcode on your phone for ages. I just grabbed it when you left your phone out.” 

“That’s so fucked, Mimi. You can’t just go through my phone or take his number,” you say. 

“You’re no fun anymore,” she says with a whine.

You’re not interested in hearing anything else she has to say because you just want to talk to Mingyu. This is getting insane that she’s going to this amount of trouble just to try to get to him. Yet, it’s also weird he kept it to himself that she was texting him. The two of you have talked a lot about the shit Mimi pulls in order to get close to him. Why is it different now that she’s texting him while he’s out with your friends? Is he starting to get worn out from dealing with the insanity of your family? Every other time he’s been around, it’s been really chill. This time, not so much. 

Up in your room, you don’t initially see Mingyu. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe him on his phone texting or else complaining to another friend about how this whole trip is going. Or even talking to his sister about getting out to see her instead of staying here. None of that happens, though. Instead, you find him in the bathroom applying a face mask. It’s a little ridiculous and definitely the last thing you expect. But, you also know that it’s a sign he’s carrying some amount of stress. 

That’s the thing about being as close to someone as you are to Mingyu. To most people, he’s got this unfailing streak of energy and kindness. He’s the kind of person that lets himself be bullied by all his friends even though he could definitely take them. It’s all part of making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and most things just roll off his broad shoulders. There are hidden depths to him, too. Sometimes he gets a little worn out because he’ll keep things to himself instead of burdening someone else. He takes so much onto his own plate and you wish he wouldn’t. At least, not always. He’ll go until it feels a little unbearable and then finally speak up. He’ll force a smile even when he doesn’t feel like it just to make sure nobody else realizes anything is wrong. In a way, he folds in on himself a little. But, you’ve been friends for years so you know his tells. Know how to spot the signs. It takes you a little longer this time surrounded by family and some friends. This is one of those signs, though. Taking the time to do a face mask, even if it’s in the middle of the day, to just give him an excuse to be quiet. 

You’re not usually the one to initiate physical contact with him. Not because you don’t want to, he just never really gives you the chance. He’s like a human koala most of the time. With his back to the door and his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the mask, he doesn’t even hear you approach. Your hands wind around his waist, hugging him tightly from the back and your head rests between his shoulder blades. For the briefest moment, he tenses and you worry that he’s using this as a break from you. Then, he realizes it’s just you and his entire body relaxes. He puts his hands over yours and sighs softly. After a moment, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough because he turns in your arms and pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping you so tightly in his own arms that you would complain in any other situation. Not now, though. Not when he’s putting himself through all of this just so you don’t have to have a stressful holiday experience. 

When it’s like this, you don’t dream of pulling away from Mingyu. There’s so much that he does for you and it’s so rare that you can do anything for him in return. So, you’ll stay tightly pressed against him as long as he wants. You won’t be the one to break the hug first. If you can take even a little bit of whatever he’s feeling onto your own shoulders, you will. This trip has been so much better than you could have expected in most ways and you’re determined to be more conscious of his needs. Eventually, he does pull away and let you look up into his face. He looks much more at peace than you expect. Maybe your hugs do have healing powers like he always says. Mingyu turns to remove the face mask and wipe his face before turning back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly into the space between you. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“For the whole drama that is my family,” you start. “Mostly, for Mimi, though.” 

“Ah,” he says and his face falls a little.

“Gyu, I would never have put you in this position if I had known she would be like this,” you say earnestly. 

“I don’t think anyone could have guessed she’d pull all this,” he says with a humorless laugh.

“You should’ve told me that she was texting you and bugging you like that,” you say without any accusation. You just want to be able to share in his burden.

He only shrugs. “We were with your friends and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to bring it down. How did you even find out she was texting me?” 

“She told me,” you say with an eye roll. 

“Really?”

“Well, she cornered me and asked why I had you on such a tight leash…”

“Kinky,” he interrupts and it nearly makes you choke. 

“And then, when I asked how she even got your number, she told me she’d gone into my phone and taken it,” you say to avoid thinking too deeply about Mingyu and any kinks he might have. 

“Bold,” he observes. 

“Do you like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

The second the question comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back. What is going on with your brain today? First you’re losing your train of thought watching Mingyu lick something off his finger. Then, you’re wondering about his kinks. Now, you’re wondering if he likes someone that’s a little bit bold. It’s got to just be the atmosphere that you’re in. Or that you’re pretending to date him. It’s messing with your mind and you’re not responsible for the way you act. 

The worst part is that Mingyu’s entire face changes. He gets that knowing look on his face when he meets your eyes. A little cocky. The look that says he knows just how attractive he can be. It’s not usually directed at you and you’re not really sure what to do now that it is. 

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not necessarily from someone I’m not actually interested in, though.” 

“Good to know.” 

Mingyu arches an eyebrow and okay, that’s devastating. Maybe you’re still a little under the influence of the mimosas. There’s no other explanation for the way your knees go a little weak at such a simple movement. “Is it?”

“Huh?” you ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“You said it was good to know and I asked if it was,” he repeats, smirk only deepening.

“Oh, sure,” you say and he seems momentarily surprised. “You know, so I can tell Mimi.”

You’re actually not entirely sure what makes you say it. It’s not like you would ever want him to consider Mimi. It might actually drive you crazy if he went for her. He gets that look on his face that you’re all too familiar with. Affection mixed with exasperation. Nobody seems to get it more than you.

“Too bad for her that I’m very much not interested,” he says. 

“Shame. I don’t know how I would get over the loss.”

“Luckily you don’t have to because you’re stuck with me.”

“Until you actually have a crush on someone again.” 

Even though you say it, you want to take it back as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Images come rushing into your mind of Mingyu falling in love with someone that actually lasts. Someone that could take your best friend away from you. Which should be what you want, right? You should want him to be happy. And you do.  You just can’t really stand the thought of a life where he’s happy without you being right there by his side. This trip makes you think about a lot more than you bargained for. 

“I do have a crush,” he says softly.

“Oh, of course,” you say and look away from him. That’s fine. This is all fine.

His finger is under your chin the next second to pull your face back around to his. It’s the look of patience that you also see a lot. Especially when he’s trying to teach you something in the kitchen. Or explain something from work. Or really just talk about anything he’s passionate about. 

“The crush is on you, dummy,” he says softly. 

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him correctly. 

With a shake of his head, he steps back to lean against the bathroom. “Of all the times I pictured telling you this, I never considered telling you in the bathroom attached to your old bedroom at your parents’ house.” 

“We don’t…” you start and he shakes his head again.

“No, this probably fits,” he says with a light laugh. The kind when he’s just a little caught off guard himself. “I thought I wanted to tell you after brunch with your friends and, I don’t know, I could be misreading the whole thing, but I think you’re ready to hear it now too. I like you. I’ve been more than happy just to be your friend because I didn’t want to say something before we were both ready. I’m happy to be here as your friend that’s only pretending to date you because I’d do anything to make life easier for you.”

“Mingyu,” you say, so low it’s barely above a whisper. Like you’re afraid to break the quiet in the limited space between you. 

“You don’t have to say…” he starts, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at your bedroom door. 

Your senses are entirely overwhelmed and you wonder what he sees as you look up at him, eyes wide in wonder. Before this, you would say that your brain could process too many things all at the same time. That it always had a million things going on. Now, you can’t seem to do any of that. Can’t focus on anything other than your beautiful best friend before you and the fact that apparently he has feelings for you. You see his mouth move, assume it’s to answer the knock, and have to shake yourself back to reality. Need to come out of this day dream so that you can react to whoever is at the door. 

“Too bad, lovebirds, you have to come downstairs. Attendance for games and cookie decorating is mandatory on Christmas Eve,” your cousin calls back. 

“Mimi, just…” you start to call out to her and Mingyu shakes his head.

“We’ll be right down!” he cuts across you. He waits, seeming like he’s listening for the sound of Mimi walking away from the door. How he can hear anything over the pounding of your heart seems unthinkable. Somehow, he must hear something because he turns back to you with soft eyes and speaks in an even softer voice. “It’s okay, we can talk tonight after dinner or when we come to bed. There’s no pressure for you to even say anything. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.” 

With that, he gives you a quick peck on the top of the head. Something that’s immediately gentler than anything you’ve experienced with him during the entire course of your friendship. The smile he gives you as he steps around you to lead the way down to interact with your family has you go weak in the knees. Has he ever smiled at you like that before? Or is it a new smile? Once upon a time, you would have said that you had every facial expression of his memorized from years spent in each other’s company. Years spent sharing private jokes, going on adventures, complaining about work and family and everything in between. But maybe, you think, there are still things that you can learn about Mingyu. Maybe there are still things that you can learn from him as well. 

When you don’t immediately follow after him, Mingyu turns around to grab your hand and pull you along with him. There’s something about the way he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes that makes your heart pound again before settling down. His touch is gentle, like it always is, and filled with complete care. You don’t notice the way he glances back at you every few steps. Not with concern, but with curiosity. He would have bet he knew your every facial expression and can’t fully place the way you look now. Somehow, even though he can’t completely tell what you’re thinking, he knows that he made the right decision. Knows it was time to tell you what’s been on his mind. Knows that, no matter what, he’s still going to have his best friend on the other side of this trip.

It’s chaos once you and Mingyu get downstairs, like it always is at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. Though, this definitely seems a little busier than years past. You’re not sure why that is either, but everyone seems to want to join in on the traditions that your parents cling to. In any case, it’s a good thing for you because it lets you just blend into the group of people without your parents paying entirely too much attention to you. Mingyu uses your hand intertwined with his to pull you into him, the way he has countless other times on this trip, and presses a kiss to your temple. Then, he’s off into the kitchen, throwing a joke at your mom about how he’s here now and she doesn’t need to worry. He looks over his shoulder and winks at you as your mother puts him to work mixing ingredients. You honestly don’t even know how you react in response. It must be okay, though, because he smiles back at you.

You love to decorate the cookies and will happily help make them in other situations, but there are already too many cooks in the kitchen. Instead, you help to set up some of the card tables that your parents keep for times like these. It gives people the chance to figure out what they might want to play and who they want to join them. It really is a nice tradition, no matter how you feel about your parents. And since your mother usually spends more time on baking and decorating the cookies, she doesn’t notice if things get a little too competitive between you and the cousins. Or if your father eggs the rest of you on while he watches. She has her favorite parts and lets everyone else do whatever it is they want to do. As long as everyone takes a break to help with decorating the cookies. Not that it’s ever a concern, that’s most people’s favorite part. 

Once the tables are all set up, you settle into a board game with some of your cousins. Usually, you’re one of the more competitive ones. Board games come pretty easily to you and you pick up on the strategy quickly. If your cousins notice that you’re not nearly as invested this time, they let you have it. And they do notice it, pretty quickly, but let you have it. It’s easy to see you’re distracted and to see that you keep glancing into the kitchen at Mingyu. They just let you have it. It’s in their best interest, anyway. It’s nice to get the chance to win without you being fully committed to beating everyone around you. 

This kind of setting really gives you a chance to think without shutting yourself away in your bedroom. That’s too obvious. You can’t just say that your best friend confessed feelings for you and now you need to figure out what your own feelings are. Not when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend already. Not when your whole family already thinks you’re lying about having just gotten together with him. And not when your mother would probably kill you if you missed out on traditions that may be older than you are. 

All the spiralling in your brain is just cover, you realize, for the bigger picture. Mingyu likes you and he thinks this is the right time to have a conversation about it. He also knows that your friendship is the most important. You agree. He’s one of the most important people in your life, but is he more than that to you too? Is it possible that it’s more than friendship? That’s not something you ever considered. When you and Mingyu met in university it was through someone you were dating at the time. The relationship was, fortunately, very short lived. But the friendship with Mingyu, that was the stuff of stories. That instant connection that survived the breakup. The two of you always joke that your friendship was meant to be and that’s why it lasted when the relationship didn’t. Why others could come and go from your lives but you two are forever. Especially when either of you has dated someone that had an issue with the friendship. It’s insane to think that men and women can’t be friends. A completely archaic way of thinking. 

That makes you think about your friendship with Seungkwan, though. Someone in your life who has also always been a constant. Someone who supports all your rights and your wrongs, even if he gives you a hard time too. And that’s when something else clicks. Your past partners haven’t objected to your friendship with Seungkwan nearly as often as your friendship with Mingyu. It’s not that he’s not attractive, because he definitely is. It can’t be that you’re not as close. Seungkwan has been with you through a lot. It could be that there's been more distance between you and him since you moved away, but you’re not sure that’s it either. He’s a constant in your life even from a distance. When you can’t see him, you regularly FaceTime him. So, no, he’s still present even if he’s not in the same city. 

And then it hits you. You don’t watch Seungkwan lick something off his finger while he’s cooking.  You don’t get jealous of your cousin hitting on him, regardless of what else is going on. You don’t seek out physical affection in the same way. Don’t find yourself looking over at Seungkwan for his reaction to everything going on around you. Don’t want to know his thoughts on something before you make each big decision. Seungkwan is your best friend and he means the world to you, but the thought of him constantly kissing you on the cheek or the temple or forehead or even the back of your hand doesn’t unleash butterflies in your stomach. 

Holy shit. You’re in love with Mingyu. Definitely in way over your head with feelings that should have been obvious to you. It’s impossible to pinpoint when it might have happened or how. Maybe there isn’t a specific time. Maybe it’s something that happens slowly over time. You know that when you first became friends it was only that, a friendship. Someone that you could be yourself around and feel at home with in a very foreign environment. Somewhere along the way, it’s morphed into more. He really is the person you want to share all your news with, the person that you look to for support first. It’s so clear to you that your feelings are there now that he’s confessed and gotten you thinking about it. When you meet his eyes across the room, you wonder if he can see the realization on your face. 

Now that you realize that you also have feelings for Mingyu, you’re not sure how you missed it before. If you consider the traits you’re looking for in a partner, he ticks off every box. And if you’re being completely honest, he’s been the reason for adding some traits to your list. So, not that you’ll admit this to any of your most recent exes, but maybe they had a point when they questioned your relationship with Mingyu. Not a big point. They still had shitty reasons for disliking Mingyu, but a small point nonetheless. 

The rest of the evening seems to go by entirely too slowly, even if you do enjoy yourself. Much to the dismay of your cousins, you’re no longer distracted and you proceed to kick their asses at any game they suggest. You do go a little easier on them than normal, though, and avoid any of the trash talk. Thankfully Seungkwan isn’t there to point out that being in a good mood makes you soft. Even decorating the cookies is more fun than you can remember. You try not to think about whether that’s because Mingyu sits right next to you the whole time, trying to sabotage your cookie designs or make you laugh with his own. Spoiler alert: it absolutely is and you’re already down horrendous. It’s even easier to act like a cute couple in love now than it was before. And you also ignore the realization that it being so easy to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend should have also been an indicator. Nobody ever said you were the most observant when it came to your own feelings. 

Finally, you get a free moment to go upstairs. It’s time to get changed for Christmas Eve dinner and that gives you both the chance to excuse yourselves. The only person who seems to be tracking the movement with some amount of interest is Mimi. You’re too caught up in reaching out for Mingyu’s hand to notice, though. His smile at the action is immediately familiar and new. Familiar because you know his face better than your own and new because you didn’t expect to see him looking at you like that.

“I didn’t expect your mom to have me working so hard in the kitchen helping with the cookie dough,” he says once you close the door. 

“Oh, I did,” you say through a snort. 

“How was the - “ 

“You were right.” 

You both go to speak at the same time and Mingyu’s mouth closes the second he realizes what you said. Whatever he wants to ask dies on his tongue over three words from your mouth. They might just be the second best three words you could say to him right then. 

“About?” he prompts. 

“It was the right time to tell me,” you confirm for him. It’s clear that he’s biting his tongue to let you say whatever you need to. Even if he knows by the look on your face. “I like you too.” 

“Thank fucking god,” he says with an exhale. “When Seungkwan told me that I should tell you because he caught you watching me, I thought he was being a shit and…”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Fucking Seungkwan. Of course.

“Oh, yeah, at brunch earlier he said that he noticed you watching me while I was cooking and that if I liked you like he thought I did, that I should probably tell you,” he says a little sheepishly. 

“You know what? Forget Seungkwan. I need to see something,” you say and close the space between you. 

Before Mingyu can ask anything, you’re on your tiptoes, hands cupping his face and lips pressed to his. He wraps his arms around your lower back to pull you tighter against his body without missing a beat. And that really is all you need to know. Everything is in that first real kiss. Any lingering hesitations slip away. You can feel his promises and the answers to the questions you know you’ll have to actually ask in that kiss. For now, it just feels like coming home. Like you found the person that can get through all the bullshit and remind you about what’s actually important in life. 

“Wow,” you say when you pull away.

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

“Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” you wonder.

“Just how long have you liked me?” he says with an all too knowing smirk. 

“I only realized today so I’ve got some catch up to do,” you joke. 

“We both do, I think,” he says. 

Without having to say a word, both of you get ready for Christmas dinner since your mother insists that you get dressed up. Every few seconds one of you seems to catch the other looking. It feels exciting, but you’re also a little shy. There’s a lot to talk about and a lot to navigate. You know you can’t put it aside. It just doesn’t feel as time sensitive now. This is one of the most important people in your life and it’s going to work out. At least, if you can get through the whole drawn out affair that is dinner first. 

Which you do. Through all your mother’s courses and all the formality that she insists on following, you have Mingyu by your side. You’re not even distracted by Mimi on the other side of the table. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you while you and Mingyu can’t take your eyes off each other. More than once, you entirely miss a question and Mingyu has to nudge you to prompt you. It’s not your fault, you reason. He’s just so insanely attractive and made all the more so because you know that he’s a genuinely wonderful person. 

Every part of you wants to skip the after dinner drinks and go back upstairs with Mingyu, but he quietly insists that you should stay. Even laughs when you turn his signature pout back around on him. If he makes a good point that you have nothing but time, you still want to take advantage of some of that time right now. Instead, you sip on your rumchata and curl into Mingyu on the oversized armchair by the fire. Despite trying to leave a little bit of space, you’re basically sitting on his lap at his own insistence. 

Once the first people start to call it a night, you look at Mingyu with nearly pleading eyes. That gets a light laugh out of him as he nods to agree that you can go upstairs to your bedroom. You say your goodnights to everyone in the room, wish people a Happy Christmas Eve, and lead the way back up to your room even though he doesn’t need the directions 

It’s nice to have uninterrupted time to figure everything out with Mingyu now that your feelings are out in the open. And once you’re both changed and through your skincare routines, you get into bed just to talk. It’s remarkable how much can fall into place so easily. It’s obvious that he figured out his feelings first. You insist that yours are already just as strong. The two of you depend on each other in everything without realizing it. Turn to each other for support. Share in all the best news. Suffer through any heartbreak together. In the years of friendship, there’s something deeper than either of you ever expected.

Honestly, it’s not even something either of you just held onto or harbored for years. The feelings really came suddenly. Mingyu shares that he wasn’t just waiting around to tell you that he had feelings for you. He also shares, though you already know, that no part of him felt entitled to your returned feelings. Had Seungkwan not said something, he’s not even sure if or when he would have said something. The last thing he would ever want was to make you uncomfortable. As much as he cares about you and wants to explore the relationship, you’re also the best friend he’s ever had. You feel the same. It’s a little scary and exciting at the same time. You trust Mingyu with your heart in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone else.

It’s entirely too late into the night by the time you and Mingyu fall asleep. How the two of you have so much to say at this point in the friendship is something to be studied. But, eventually you drift off, completely intertwined with Mingyu. He’s been a cuddler this whole trip and you’re not sure how he’s gotten himself even more attached to you. Yet, he does. It’s like any space between you would be too much. It’s too much satisfaction to give him that he’s right. He can tell anyway. 

When you wake up, it feels too early. A fact only confirmed when you check your phone. None of the little cousins or your cousins with kids are staying at your parents’ house. So, you know that it doesn’t have to be an early start to the morning. You consider if you can drift off back to sleep. In the night, you ended up with Mingyu spooning you. His arm is loosely draped over you and your back is pressed somewhat lightly into his chest. When you go to adjust to think about drifting back off, your ass brushes against his hips, you feel something press into you. That stops you for a moment. Obviously, you and Mingyu talked about sex the night before. About how you wanted to try to take it a little slower since this means so much to both of you. And obviously you know that it’s relatively common for a guy to wake up a little hard. Your brain knows all those things. Knows what you should do. You should just reposition and go back to sleep. 

That’s not what you actually do though. 

So carefully that it could be an accident, you wiggle against him, a little harder this time. You yawn like you’re actually just adjusting to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He might let you get away with it, too, if you didn’t do it more than once, pressing further back into him each time. You know he’s awake by the sharp intake of breath and then the way he moves his hand to grip your thigh. The way his fingertips dig into your skin there makes you grind back harder without pretending it’s anything else. 

Mingyu puts his lips to your ear. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“I thought we said we were going to take it slow,” he says with incredible difficulty.

“I can move slower,” you answer immediately. It feels gratifying when he snaps his hips into your ass. 

“You’re teasing me,” he whines.

“Not if I follow through,” you say. “I want you, Mingyu. I don’t want to wait.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses as you continue to grind into him. “I want you to.” 

“Then…” you start and immediately cut off as his hand winds back around to your front. He grabs your pussy through your shorts that suddenly feel too flimsy. Runs his long middle finger up your core and you immediately know you started something that he’s going to finish. 

But his hand is gone entirely too quickly. Worse still, he pulls back. It’s only long enough for him to turn you towards him and then pull you on top of him. Your brain catches back up once you’re straddle over him and he pulls your face towards him. You kiss him like you haven’t yet. Full of desire and desperation. Nothing like the first few kisses you share. Those kisses were to make sure this was right. This kiss is to ruin him. Maybe to ruin yourself as well. His hands are on your hips, anchoring you to him, not that there’s anywhere else you could possibly be. 

It’s never been like this with anyone. Just some heavy kissing and you’re already getting turned on. Already wondering what’s next. What it’s going to feel like. If Mingyu is the type of person that will take his time with you. It’s hard to imagine when he seems just as desperate as you are. At least, he tries to anchor you in a certain position so that you can’t grind too much. Maybe he does want to savor it. You really are down horrendous for this man because you think you could just kiss him like this forever and never quite get enough. 

All too soon, Mingyu rolls the pair of you over again. Now he’s hovering over you and nobody has any business being that hot. And then he pulls back, somewhat straddling your legs without putting too much weight on you. In one movement, he pulls his shirt over his head and casts it aside. Okay, now you really think that nobody has any business being that hot. And sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before. This is just different. You don’t even realize as he’s reaching for your shirt until you feel his fingers brush the skin of your stomach. He’s looking for permission, but you’re a little impatient and pull the shirt off yourself. You’re not sure that anyone has ever looked at your body with so much love. Like he’s just as amazed as you are. He peppers your chest and your chest and your stomach with kisses. Showing you just how much he loves every bit of you. It’s the safest feeling in the world and you’re not really sure how you got this lucky. 

Mingyu is so gentle when he pulls your shorts off. Trails kisses along your thighs as well and makes you shiver. Chuckles when he pulls his own off and you swallow at the sight of him. He’s a big guy and somehow you’re still not expecting his dick to be big like it is. Haven’t ever really thought about it in all the time you’ve been friends. You expect him to be all confident seeing your reaction. There’s something else there too, though. Like he’s a little nervous about this. You’re not really sure what to say to reassure him, so you just pull him back to you to kiss him again. He adjusts into you almost immediately, half laying on top of you while still making sure that he’s not crushing you.

This time kissing him is very different, though. He moves one hand between your legs. It’s gentle at first. He only runs his finger up your center a few times. Catches each moan with his kisses. Slowly works a finger inside you and pumps at a languid pace. It turns you into a whiny, squirming mess entirely too quickly. Empties any thoughts or worries out of your head. You know you can’t be too loud and you hate it. Nobody should be able to kiss this well while also hitting the perfect spot with each pass of his fingers. He adds a second finger and you’re sure that you’re done for. Sure that nothing else will ever feel as perfect as him again. You reach to stroke him and he pulls back. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice.

“No, nothing,” he assures you quickly. “I just, um, well I really want to fuck you and I’m not sure I could handle it if…”

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, already ready to say it doesn’t matter if you have to.

“I might?” he says more like a question and gets off the bed to cross to his bag with too much speed. In any other situation you might laugh. Now, you just want to feel him. A moment later, after rifling through his bag, he comes back up with one. 

He’s moving back to you, unwrapping the condom, and then he looks up at you. There’s a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, I want this. And yes, I want it here,” you assure him. 

Thankfully, that’s the only confirmation he needs. In the next second, he’s pumping himself a few times and rolling the rubber onto himself. You move to reposition, but he doesn’t let you. He gently presses you back and gets between your legs. Carefully, he lines himself up and presses in. 

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, trying to stay quiet. 

“Too much?” he asks and stills.

“No, Gyu, just move, please,” you whine out, pulling him into you. 

He does exactly what you ask and snaps his hips so he’s fully buried inside you. It’s a stretch in the best way. Like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You can’t help it, you moan out the first time he thrusts and he catches the second moan with another bruising kiss. Probably better to have bruised lips than to have your family hear the screams you let out as he fucks you. Probably better than having them hear his moans as well. They vibrate through his chest and it gives you a sense of pride. Mingyu is a taker in every sense of his life. You know that it must be killing him to keep quiet now. 

The two of you fall into a perfect rhythm without even trying. There’s nothing awkward about it being your first time. Knowing each other as well as you do as friends seems to translate here. Or maybe Mingyu just pays much closer attention to you than you realize. You run your nails down his back and his thrusts stutter so you do it again. That seems to get to him. He picks up the paces of his thrusts. Pulls his dick almost all the way out of you before quickly snapping his hips to bury himself in your pussy again. Never in your life has sex as simple as this position felt so good. Never has anyone you’ve dated felt this perfect. 

When Mingyu’s thrusts start to stutter, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Seconds later, your pussy clenches around Mingyu and your vision whites out. You can feel Mingyu release and try to pick up the pace to work him through his own orgasm. He half collapses on you, breathing heavy. Both of you have to catch your breath from all the kisses to muffle the noises as well. He tries to roll over so that he’s not on top of you and you cling to him, not ready to lose contact just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

“I know.” 

“That was…” 

“Better than I was expecting.” 

You can feel his eyes on you even without looking and it makes you smile. Can imagine what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d be any good?” 

You laugh at that as you turn to face him. “No, I thought you’d be good. I just didn’t expect our first time where we had to be quiet because we’re in my parents house to be that good.” 

He considers your words for a second.

“I guess I can take that,” he concedes. 

“Come on. We have to clean up and get downstairs,” you say and he sighs dramatically. But, then he gets up and helps you up with him. 

Half an hour later, you’re downstairs at the kitchen table sipping on a peppermint mocha latte and picking out your favorite pastries from the spread your mother has out. Mingyu has his chair pulled close to you and his arm along the back of your chair. Your cousin is sitting on your other side, cheerily humming under her breath. In a strange move, she isn’t even trying to speak to Mingyu. Just as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with her, she turns to you.

“Have a good morning?” she asks knowingly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you hiss back, casting your eyes around. 

“No need,” she waves off and shoots a smirk at you. “I got exactly what I wanted.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Seungkwan and I have been talking a lot. Plotting, I guess you could say. Seems like it finally paid off,” she says and your jaw hangs open. 

“Are you…did you just…” you stutter out. 

“As long as it’s real now,” she says and doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t need it, when it’s written all over your face. “We can talk about it later but I am sorry.” 

“You and fucking Seungkwan,” you grumble. 

It is a weight off your chest, though. Mimi has always been your favorite. A safe space in all the insanity of your family. It’s good to know that she’s still that for you. The two of you can argue about her methods, or her alliance with Seungkwan, later. It’s hard to ignore that it did actually help. You’re in this place because some of your favorite people meddled to help you and Mingyu see sense. Maybe you can say all is well that ends well. 

In between all the chaos of breakfast and making sure the presents are under the tree, you manage to tell Mingyu about what Mimi had really been up to. He seems relieved. Not even annoyed, just happy that things can settle into whatever the new normal looks like for you and him. You also find time to whisper all the things you want to do to him when there aren’t prying eyes around. It may be cruel, but you delight in the way the blush rises up his cheeks and the way he shifts in his seat. You’re going to have a lot of fun playing with him, you already know. He’s so easy to rile up. Now you have brand new material to use on him. 

Your mother works to corral everyone into the living room where the Christmas tree is so that people can start opening presents. You always hold back and watch at first. Don’t even make an effort to find anything that might be for you. It’s more fun to see people’s reactions. Does your mother like what your father picked out? Are your cousins humoring their parents? Did someone manage to get something that’s genuinely a surprise? There’s never a dull moment. In fact, you’re so lost in thought watching that you don't notice wasn’t beside you until he plops back down and nudges you. Hands a small, beautifully wrapped box over to you. 

“Go on, open it,” he urges you softly. It’s clear he’s trying not to draw too much attention. 

Exchanging gifts with Mingyu isn’t new. It’s something you do every year. This is unexpected though. Usually you exchange gifts away from other people because they can be a little silly. Nothing about this feels silly, though. With a final questioning glance at him, you pull the ribbon off and carefully ripping the paper. It’s immediately clear that it’s a jewelry box. That makes your heart hammer. You can’t even look over at him. Surely this is something he had already. It’s not like there’s been any time to go out and get something in the midst of all your confessions. 

There’s a necklace inside the box. Something that looks old, important. The kind of thing you can tell has been well worn and loved without looking cheap. There’s a pendant hanging from the chain with your favorite stone in a setting that you instantly love. It’s the most perfect gift that anyone has ever given you and it makes you a little emotional. You turn to Mingyu, tears welling in your eyes, and want to have the moment just for the two of you. Unfortunately, your mother and several other family members watch your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

“Do you like it?” he asks, still unsure.

“I love it,” you say earnestly.

“It was my grandmother’s that she got from her grandmother before her. She told me to hold onto it and that I would just know when I should give it to someone,” he says and that does you in. Any last resolve disappears. 

The only response you can think of is to just kiss him. A real kiss pressed to his lips full of all the words you can’t say about how much a present like this means to you. How sure you are that you two are making the right decision. It’s so meaningful. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to keep it just for the two of you. Which doesn’t happen. Not that it matters. Your parents have heard you saying you loved each other this whole trip. It means something different now, though.

“I love you, too,” you say back. “So much.” 

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” your mother offers as Mingyu helps you to put it on. 

“I thought it would look good on her,” he adds to your mother. 

“Almost as good as a ring,” your mother says. It’s the least subtle comment in the entire world.

Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat. Just smiles and nods a little. “Well, maybe you’ll have to invite me back next year and see what the gift is.” 

“You have a deal.” 

For the first time, you’re not upset with your mother for bringing up marriage and the idea of settling down. You’re just basking in the affection coming from Mingyu and appreciating your new necklace. Soon, you’ll have to leave this little bubble. Trade the idyllic snow covered scenery where everything moves a little slower for your life back in the city. But, you’ll be taking a different relationship with Mingyu back. You think that maybe he’ll be the key to you finally figuring out how to balance it all. Maybe he’s been the answer all along. 

[vettelsvee]

SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

[kawoala]

Your requests are opennn and I just saw the tsukishima fic and i luv ittt! May i request a prompt wherein kei and managerf!reader have been dating in the middle of the school year for a while and the team finds out? Thankss

𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 what is going on word count ; (1,225) content warning ; (sorry it took me so long to answer - i want to say i was perfecting it but really i was procrastinating, secret relationship unveiled, talkative mom, second year! tsukishima)

The gym is hot. It’s usually hot, what with all the players running up and down the court, breaking a sweat, breathing heavily, but today feels different. Maybe the twenty year old AC system has finally kicked the bucket.

The bleachers on either side of the gym are packed with people from both Karasuno and Ichibayashi. You’re not sure why so many people showed up, but you don’t really care. You sit next to Yachi on the bench where the team sits during time-outs, fanning yourself with your clipboard.

“This sucks,” you say to nobody in particular. Yachi is on one side, but there is a first year on the other side. You turn to the blonde girl, who’s staring intently at the court, and exhale dramatically. “Yachi, I said this sucks.”

“No, I heard you the first time,” she says nonchalantly, though you can see her trying to fight the smile threatening to break out on her face. She turns to look at you, letting her head lull to the side. “How can this suck, Y/n? We’re winning!”

You blink at her a couple times. “We haven’t lost a single set to Ichibayashi since before Suga-san’s first year. If we lose, I’m quitting as a manager.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the game. You scrunch up your face, but do the same, eyes dead set on finding Kei. 

He always looks so handsome on the court. You often tell him that he goes into The Zone when he plays volleyball, but he just rolls his eyes and calls you weird. It would make you sad if you didn’t realize pretty early that his love language is shit-talking.

You watch him leap off the ground, effectively blocking Ichibayashi’s ball and scoring a point for Karasuno. You don’t realize until the crowd behind you erupts in cheers that the point he scored was the winning point.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and you stand quickly, clapping your hands together in excitement. Yachi does the same beside you, and so do the rest of the benched players.

You watch Karasuno shake hands with the other team, thanking them for a good game, and then it’s done. You’re packing up your stuff, the team, including Kei, is headed to the locker room, but the call of his name startles you both.

“Oh, Kei!” You could hear that voice even if you were deaf. You turn slowly, watching your mother flag the tall boy down, calling his name like it means stop. “Kei! You played so well! I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner after this? You’re always welcome, but I’d like to invite you myself. Heaven knows Y/n will forget. How does that sound? I can call your mother if—”

“Mom!” Your voice echoes off the gym first, your sneakers against the waxy floor is next. You skid to a stop in between the two of them, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” You exclaim incredulously at her.

She raises her brows, obviously offended. “Excuse me, little girl. I’m inviting Kei to dinner tonight.” She clicks her tongue, putting her hand on her hip. You hate to say it, but this is where your attitude comes from and there’s no denying it. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with that.”

“I don’t, I just—” you cut yourself off, glancing around as you realize the whole team is staring at you. “I, um, was going to do that. I remembered, so you didn’t have to.”

She purses her lips, lifting her eyes to where Kei’s eyes presumably are. “Can you believe this? Angry with her mother because I invited someone she was already going to invite.”

“That’s not why I’m—”

“I know,” Kei cuts you off, patting you on the head a couple times. “Terrible, isn’t she?”

Your mother laughs, placing a hand on her chest like Kei is the funniest person she’s ever met. Spoiler alert; he’s not. She does have you in her life, after all.

“Okay.” You place your hands on her shoulders, turning her around towards the exit. “Time for you to go home and start working on dinner, yeah? We’ll be there in, like, thirty minutes.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she calls back with a wave of her hand. She glances back once more, giving Kei a tiny wave and big smile. Unbeknownst to you, he waves back.

When you turn around, you find the whole team still staring at you.

“What was that?” Ennoshita asks, narrowing his eyes.

You furrow your brows, tilting your head. “What was what? My mom’s crazy, don’t mind her.”

He hums, but Narita is nudging him into the locker room, mumbling something about post-game dinner ritual. Nishinoya and Tanaka are narrowing their eyes at you too.

“Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima to dinner at your house?”

“Yeah, why him, of all people. Why not me? I’m funnier and way handsome-r.”

You roll your eyes, but turn your attention to Kei and glare at him. “‘She’s terrible, isn’t she?’” You repeat in a mocking tone, scrunching your face up. “Do you hate me?”

”Wait, I’m confused.”

You look at Hinata and press your lips together. “When are you not?”

He. gives you a faux laugh and narrows his eyes— too many people have done that already, you’re starting to get a little annoyed. “Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima over to dinner and not one of us? Why does your mom like the meanest person in our year.”

Now, you hesitate. At the beginning of the year, you realized just how good Kei was at keeping secrets. You realized he didn't want all the drama that came with a public relationship, and neither did you, so you kept it a more private thing. That’s what was most comfortable for the two of you. However, it quickly became a nuisance. There were rumors of you two dating anyway, when Kei started being just the smallest bit nicer to you. It was harder to be around him and keep your feelings in check because, if you didn't, other people would find out and that would be a tragedy for the both of you.

”She’s my girlfriend, idiot.” The words coming from Kei shock you. Your head whips around to look at him so fast, you fear there might be a touch of whiplash involved. Your eyes are wide, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

”What are you doing?” You ask through gritted teeth, tone walking the line of sing-songy and mad.

He turns to you now, smiling softly. “It’s getting tiresome having to hide our relationship, isn’t it? Plus, people already thought we were dating.” He shrugs. “Give the people what they want, right?”

You smile back at him. You think Kei has changed a lot since first year— in a good way, of course. He’s kinder, softer, stronger. All of the hinges that have changed about him, also changed with you. You don’t know it yet, but you two have made each other better people in the time frame of your relationship at this moment.

”What?” Hinata exclaims, putting his hands on his head. “What do you mean you’re dating? How could you date him? He’s so— and you’re so— what is going on!”

[navybrat817]

If you're still taking ficlet requests, maybe a dark or soft dark Bucky who works for your dad?

I hope you like where I went with this, nonnie!

Dollhouse

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Toxic family, implied cheating (not reader or Bucky), drug and drinking reference, inspired by the song Dollhouse. Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes and implied future dubcon/noncon.

You didn’t want to come home for the weekend. You lost track of how many times you told your dad that. It didn’t matter that you weren’t a child anymore or that you weren’t living at the mansion. The expectation was that you would play the part of a supporting daughter in front of his employees no matter what. It was laughable, if not utterly sad. Either most didn’t know your family was far from a happy one or they didn’t care. And why would they as long as they got what they wanted?

Places, places, get in your places. Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces.

“Dad, I’m going to change and go for a swim,” you announced.

Your dad along with the group of men that surrounded him turned their heads toward you. Most of the men averted their gazes after a moment, except for one: Bucky Barnes. Ever since he started working for your dad he took an unexpected interest in you. He was always asking about your personal life, and he seemed all too happy when your recent relationship ended. Your dad, of course, loved him because he was a hard worker and made him money.

“Where’s your brother?” your dad asked, making you look away from Bucky.

“Couldn’t tell you,” you answered. If you had to guess, he was off in his room getting high.

“Okay. Just enjoy your swim, princess.” You did your best not to roll your eyes at the nickname. “But make sure you’re set for dinner. Your mother’s cooking your favorite.”

You did roll your eyes this time, and Bucky continued to stare. Your mom never lifted a finger in the kitchen. She’d order out and make it look like she did it herself.

Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains.

“Of course, dad,” you said, leaving without another word and feeling a pair of cold blue eyes follow your every move.

The chatter from the main room filled the hall as you went to your room to change, the sound muffled once you shut the door. You blocked it out as best as you could as you selected one of your bathing suits and changed. You hoped your mom wouldn’t drink too much and embarrass herself at dinner. You also hoped your dad was smart enough not to bring a side piece around until after she passed out. It could be a little entertaining though if your brother ran his mouth.

Picture, picture, smile for the picture. Pose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister?

“Well, look at you.”

Your heart leapt to your throat when you turned around to see Bucky standing by your bed. He held your cover up in his hand. How the hell did he get in your room so quietly? Why was he there?

“What the hell are you doing?” you demanded.

“Sorry. I was trying to find the bathroom,” he said. A terrible lie, like he didn't even try. “Such a large place, you know. Easy to go through the wrong door.”

“Do you normally pick up garments that don’t belong to you when you’re 'lost'?” you asked, trying to take it from him.

He pulled his hand out of reach. “Not normally, but I couldn’t resist,” he said, not hiding the lust in his eyes as they landed on your chest and slowly drifted down. “You know, you have a pretty fucked up family.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” you scoffed.

Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains.

“Allow me,” he offered as his gaze flickered back to your face.

“No, thanks,” you said, attempting to grab the cover up again as he narrowed his eyes.

"Turn around,” he ordered, his voice deeper and gruffer than before. “I won't tell you twice.”

Tell, not ask.

You hoped your trembling wasn't noticeable when you turned and faced the mirror, having to look at his reflection as he slowly walked up behind you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, and large. He could overpower you easily.

“This is such a beautiful color on you. Must drive all the boys crazy when you wear it. Also must be why your daddy keeps you locked up as much as he can,” he said more to himself than to you as he ran a gloved finger down your side. “But I’m not a boy, am I?”

“He doesn’t keep me locked up,” you whispered, unsure of why you were arguing. Maybe it would distract you from his touch.

He brought his mouth to your ear, his eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “You think because you live on your own that you’re free? That you aren’t watched at all times?” He asked, chuckling when you shivered again. “You may be your daddy's princess, but you'll be mine soon enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I make your dad a lot of money. He owes me.” He straightened up and slipped the fabric over your shaking frame. “As much as I hate to cover up such a beautiful piece of art, I may lose control if I don't,” he said, as if he had the right to do so. “Keep your door unlocked for me tonight.”

“I won't-”

He had a hand around your throat, but didn't squeeze. “You will,” he said, kissing your temple. “And we'll see if you can keep quiet.”

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️ And this one may be fun to continue.

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P11

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: My babies I'm sorry for the last chpt but it gets a little better (not really I'm a liar). Y/n is struggling in this and I love Sarah she's my queen. I hate y/n's mother, no further debate. Topper and Kelce blessing the situation with their dumbasses but most importantly what we've all been waiting for, will Rafe and Y/n finally talk it out even though they're stuck in a sticky situation.....? Read and find out BAHAHAHA.

p.s: I made a reference to a TikTok meme that's so big rn and a movie that's one of my favourites all in the same scene, see if you can spot them ;)

warnings: hospitals, mentions of sa and non-con, bad mother daughter relationship, being held in custody, emotional turmoil, tense conversations, crying, mentions of violence, alcohol, panic attacks, soft!Rafe (about damned time)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe sat at the cold metal table, his hands were cuffed, the sharp clink of the chains echoing in his ears everytime he shuffled his hands. He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through him, though it had long since faded to exhaustion. The night had gone from confusion to chaos, and now, sitting here, he couldn’t fully grasp how it had gotten this far. He tried to keep his composure, but every time his mind wandered, it drifted back to Y/N- how she looked… covered in bruises. His stomach twisted at the thought. How could anyone do that to her? And then Cooper- he’d done what had to be done, right? He’d stopped him, even if that meant the boy was left barely breathing. 

He didn’t regret that for a second.

The door opened with a creak, and Shoupe walked in, his heavy boots making soft thuds as he approached. He wasn’t a stranger to Rafe, or to the rest of the group for that matter, he knew them all too well, and he had a stern look on his face as he took a seat across from the boy.

“Rafe,” Shoupe started, his voice calm, “you’ve been here for a while now. You want to tell me what happened?”

Rafe looked at the sheriff, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain himself- not without sounding like a guy trying to justify his own uncontrolled anger.

“I was just protecting her.

Rafe’s voice was low, his eyes meeting the sheriff’s. Shoupe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face,  “I know you were trying to protect her, but you’ve got to understand, the way you went about it…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. 

“You beat the hell out of him. That’s not self-defense.”

Rafe clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. “What was I supposed to do, huh?”

I should have killed him that's what

Shoupe studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know you did what you thought was right, Rafe. But you have to understand, beating a guy into the ground like that? The law doesn’t care about intentions. It cares about actions. And right now, your actions don’t look too good. Cooper’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the thought, if he died he was done for- so he hoped the boy survived, for his own sake of course. Rafe’s voice broke slightly, 

“He was hurting her… and I had to do something.”

“You did something alright.” 

Shoupe said, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Now the question is, what’s gonna happen because of it. What’s your story, son? You’re lucky that Y/n is okay but you might be facing some serious charges.”

Rafe wanted to lash out, to argue, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could still see Y/N in his mind, trembling, crying, covered in blood. He couldn’t think straight.

“Did you talk to her? Did she tell you what happened?” Shoupe’s voice broke through Rafe’s thoughts. 

“You know, if she doesn’t back up your story, it could get a lot worse for you.”

“She’ll back me up.” 

Will she?

Rafe said firmly, though there was doubt creeping into his mind. What if she didn’t? What if she was too scared to speak? He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now, after everything.

Shoupe’s gaze softened. “I hope so, Rafe. I hope so.” He paused, then looked at him seriously. “If you want to have any shot at getting through this without more problems, you need to get your story straight. Don’t try to make excuses, be honest with me.”

Rafe nodded, feeling like he was in way over his head. But he didn’t care about anything else right now. He just wanted Y/N safe, he would face whatever consequences came his way as long as she was okay.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Rafe finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll tell you the truth, I’ll uh- tell you what happened.”

Shoupe stood up slowly, giving him one last look. “Good. We’ll see what we can do from here. But right now, you’re staying here. Just… think it over.”

Shoupe left the room, leaving Rafe alone with his thoughts. He leaned back against the cold metal chair, his mind racing. He could only hope that Y/N would understand, that she wouldn’t be too scared to tell the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sterile smell of the hospital room was almost suffocating. It clung to the walls, to the sheets, and to Y/N. She could barely focus on anything- her mind was swirling in a haze of confusion and fear. She should be relieved that she was away from Cooper, but all she felt was numbness, like her body had turned off in self-preservation. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the thin hospital blanket wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop shaking, despite the warmth of the room. The whole process of the rape kit had been a blur- cold, clinical, invasive- but the worst part was the silence that followed; the silence that consumed her now, sitting in the hospital bed, as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Sarah was sitting quietly beside her, offering her some semblance of comfort, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to talk. She wasn’t even sure what to say. What was she supposed to feel? The guilt that gnawed at her stomach, the shame that twisted in her chest, and the confusion about what was happening with Rafe- she couldn’t sort through it. Sarah tried her best to fill the silence, her voice gentle and soft. She spoke about random things, about the date she'd been on with John B, about how JJ had almost burnt the chateau down trying to make an omelet, her tone casual and light; but Y/N barely registered it as she nodded absently, staring at the covers of the bed. Then, the conversation slowed, Sarah’s voice quieted, and Y/N could feel her friend’s gaze on her, like she was waiting for something. Finally she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant,

 “Y/N, I… I called your parents.”

...

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her head jerked toward Sarah as the shock hit her,

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising anger. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Sarah flinched at her sudden outburst, but she didn’t pull back. She looked at Y/N, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding. 

“They deserve to know, Y/N… you’re their only child. They need to know what happened.”

Y/N couldn’t comprehend it. Her parents were miles away, on a business trip, and the last thing she wanted was them to find out about this. She felt a sickening knot form in her stomach, her chest tightening even more. “No, Sarah. No.” Her voice broke, thick with a mix of fear and rage. 

“Why couldn’t you just leave it? I don’t want them to know. I can’t have them knowing what happened-”

Her voice cracked as she trailed off, her eyes returning to the bedspread, her hands gripping the fabric of the hospital gown as though it could hold her together. Sarah didn’t press her further, but all Y/N felt was shame. 

Deep, overwhelming shame. 

Shame that she wasn’t able to protect herself, shame that someone had hurt her so violently, and now, even worse, that her parents would have to find out. They’d been away, living their busy lives, not knowing the horror their daughter had endured. Y/N’s vision blurred as her tears began to fall, quietly, silently. She wasn’t even aware of them at first until the cold wetness hit her cheeks. The shame was unbearable, her shoulders shook slightly as her body began to tremble again, the pain of it all seeping through every inch of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them, “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice was soft, trying to soothe her, trying to offer any kind of comfort. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, her touch warm.

“It’s okay you don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Y/N couldn’t believe that. How could she not have done something wrong? Her mind screamed at her, telling her that she should have fought harder, should have screamed louder, should have somehow stopped what had happened. She didn’t want her parents to know, but a part of her knew that she had to face it. They deserved to know. But the fear- the fear of their disappointment, their anger at tainting the family name- was too much to bear.

“I’m scared Sarah.” 

Y/N whispered, barely audible. Sarah’s fingers gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. “We’ll get through this, okay? One step at a time, I promise.”

But even as Sarah said those words, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was alone. Alone in this hospital bed, with everything she had endured, with everything that was about to happen. She sat quietly in the hospital room, the weight of the hours passing pressing heavily on her chest. Nurses would come in and out of the room, asking her how she felt, talking to Sarah, checking her vitals, but her thoughts were scattered, her mind in a haze. Sarah sat next to her, quietly trying to comfort her, but Y/N couldn’t fully engage with her because her thoughts kept drifting back to memories of the night- of what she could’ve, what she should’ve done differently. 

Get me out of here

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door open. Her heart dropped, as she looked up to see her parents standing in the doorway. Y/N’s mother, her perfectly done hair trench coat buttoned up to the top, looked as if she were about to burst into the room with the composure of someone who had rehearsed the scene in her mind. Y/N’s father followed behind her, his stern expression softening when his eyes landed on his daughter.

“Y/n”

Her mother said, her voice strained and much too formal. Y/n didn’t miss the way her mother took in the state of her, her eyes scanning the room quickly before locking onto her daughter. There was concern there, but also something else, something distant. Y/N felt her anger welling up, a bubbling knot in her throat. Sarah stood up, giving her space but staying lingering by the doorway, close enough to offer support. The silence between them was thick, her father stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a silent comfort but she shivered at the feeling on his hand on her skin. His voice was gentle as he spoke,

“My sweet girl.” Her father leant down, softly placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice low and reassuring. 

“Whatever you need, we’ll help you through this.”

Her mother, though less expressive, sat beside her on the bed. She reached out, placing her hand on Y/N’s wrist in an attempt at comfort. It was a gesture that felt stiff, like she didn’t quite know how to be vulnerable with her own daughter.

“I’m so sorry this... happened.” her mother said, her voice wavering slightly.

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I spoke to the nurse about moving you to a more…  secluded room.”

As much as Y/N wanted to accept their comfort, the weight of what had happened was still clouding her mind. However her misery was forced down by a bitter feeling of hatred, of anger, of irritation that she was now stuck with this burden leering over her. She took a shaky breath, then spoke with quiet determination, her voice thick with emotion, her words falling into the silence of the room

“I want to press charges.”

Her father’s expression softened, and he nodded in agreement, “Of course Y/N, whatever you want.” His hand smoothed over her hair delicately as he looked down at the girl, a small smile on her face, Y/N felt a flicker of relief at his words. But then her mother spoke, her tone skeptical and weary as she pulled her hand away from the girl and stood up, straightening her coat,

“Is that really the best idea, Y/N?” 

Her voice lacked the softness her father’s had, and Y/N’s heart sank as she looked at her mother.

“W-what do you mean?” 

Y/N asked, confused. Her mother’s gaze was distant, avoiding her eyes. Her mother spoke, her tone a bit too controlled, too measured,

“It’s just… you pressing charges will cause all this public attention. The media will make a circus of it. Do you really want the whole island knowing about this.” 

Her mother’s words hit Y/N like a slap. She blinked, staring at her mother, unable to process the implications of what she was saying. “What… what do you mean?” Y/N repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“You want me to just… let him get away with it?”

Her mother sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I just think it would be better if we kept this quiet. The less people know, the better. No one needs to know about this. We can handle it… privately.”

“Marie-”

Who are you?

Her father spoke out looking at his wife with a displeased expression across his face. Y/N’s heart started to pound in her chest. She shook her head in disbelief, she had never expected this reaction from her mother,

“Are you serious? You want to cover this up?” 

The words felt like acid in her mouth. Her mother’s eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen don't put false words into my mouth Y/N, I’m just saying… we need to think about the bigger picture here. Our family’s reputation, your future… This could ruin everything.”

Y/N felt as if the room was spinning. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was more concerned about the family’s image than about her daughter’s pain and suffering. The hurt and anger surged up in her chest, threatening to overtake her.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered, tears welling up again. “You’re more worried about how this will look than about what happened to me?”

Her mother stiffened but didn’t respond right away, her gaze flicking to her father, as if searching for some sort of support but his eyes were already looking at his wife, narrowed slightly. Y/N could feel the distance between them widening, her own mother now a stranger in her eyes. Then, through the rising tension, Y/N spoke, quieter now, her voice small, 

“Do you even like me?” 

Her words hung in the air, fragile, desperate for an answer. Her mother paused, the words seemingly caught in her throat. After a long silence, she hesitated before speaking. 

“Of course I love you,” she replied, but her voice lacked the certainty Y/N had hoped for.

“But do you like me?” Y/N pressed, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

Her mother exhaled sharply, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I… I want what’s best for you, Y/N.”

No you don't

The room fell silent once more. Y/N felt a sting in her chest, her heart aching as the reality of her mother’s words sunk in. She didn’t have the strength to argue, her father, sensing the tension, stepped in. 

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, let’s focus on getting better, yes?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, like every ounce of energy had been drained from her. Her anger was still there, but it was buried beneath the overwhelming sadness that had taken root.

She turned her gaze away from her mother as the woman walked out the room, looking at the window instead, as if trying to escape the four walls of the room she found herself stuck in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s palm rested against the cool brick wall, his fingers clenching the phone tightly, his heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t know what to expect next, but there was one thing he couldn’t let go of, one person he needed to reach. 

I need to talk to her

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It'd been hours since he'd been taken in to the precinct and he had no clue if she was okay, if they'd cleaned her up, helped calm her down. The last thing he remembered was her panicked eyes before he got into the police car, Shoupe roughly shutting the doors behind him. Yet most importantly, he didn't even know if she wanted to speak to him, would she refuse to take the call, what if he couldn't hear her voice from the other side of the phone.

“C’mon”

He muttered under his breath as he dialled Sarah’s number, his voice shaking with frustration. The sound of the dial tone rang in his ear, followed by the faint click of the line connecting. After a few moments, Sarah’s voice answered, 

“Rafe?” Her tone was laced with concern, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, “They’re arresting me Sarah. I don’t know how long I’ll be here-” His words rushed out,  "-just give the phone to Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

There was a slight pause before Sarah responded, her voice soft and understanding. “Yeah, yeah okay...”

He heard the rustling of the phone being handed off, then a soft, shaky breath. The sound of Y/N’s voice was all he needed to hear. It cut through the haze, grounding him.

“Rafe?”

Thank God

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, his tone soothing, though he could feel the knot in his chest. “I’m at the station, they’re holding me but I’ll be out soon.”

Y/N paused before responding, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. “Are you alright? Are your knuckles okay? I remember they were bleeding.”

Always so observant

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the question. He’d forgotten about the pain in his hand, but hearing her bring it up made his heart stutter, reminding him of times when she would patch him up after things escalated at the boneyard. 

“I’m fine, they’re not bad just bruised up, nothing I can’t handle.”

She wasn’t convinced but let out a small hum of acknowledgement. The question was burning in her but she hesitated, unsure if she should say it, her voice was tense as she spoke out, 

“Has... has he pressed charges?”

The question hung in the air, and Rafe swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “No, he hasn’t pressed charges yet. But I’ll make sure we do what’s right for you, okay? I’m just… I’ll be okay, don't worry about me alright- are you okay?”

Y/N paused, the questions weighing heavily on her.

I don't know...

“I'm fine, Rafe. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do. I’m worried about you, I don’t want you to stay there.”

Rafe’s heart ached. “I’m not going anywhere. Just stay strong for me, yeah? I’ll be out of here soon.” He knew the girl was lying, no one would be okay after experiencing what she did, but deep down he knew she was saying so not to worry him further.

“Y/n” He sighed, hand thumping against the wall in front of him, unsure if he should ask her this now, but he needed to know.

 “Are you going to press charges against Cooper?”

Y/N’s silence spoke volumes. Rafe knew she was processing everything, trying to figure out what was right. He waited for her to respond, his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t want to push her but the time on the phone call was running out. Finally, she spoke softly.

“I don’t know, Rafe. I… I don’t know what’s best.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, frustrated with how helpless he felt. “Whatever you decide, I’ll…  -I’ll stand by you, no matter what you choose.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, her tone still steady but full of worry. “Just be careful, Rafe, don’t do anything stupid please.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, a soft chuckle escaping him at her concern. “But you’re my priority, yeah? You need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll handle this.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied, her voice soft.

I care about you

“I know, I- I won’t. I promise.”

They shared a quiet moment over the phone, both of them trying to find comfort in each other’s words, even though the situation was anything but comforting. As the conversation started to wind down and the phone was passed back to Sarah, Rafe’s voice became more urgent. “Hey, Sarah?” he said, his tone firm but still laced with the stress of the situation.

“This was my one call, so you need to call dad and tell him to come down and get me the hell out of here, I don’t care how, just- I need to get out okay?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before Sarah responded standing from the chair near Y/n's bed and walking over to the window of the room, her voice lower now, not wanting to alert the girl,

“Yeah, I’ll call him,” she said, her tone resigned, “don’t worry, he’ll get you out.”

Rafe exhaled a shaky breath, relief and frustration mixing in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Just… hang in there.”

He let out a small sigh before speaking again, softer this time. “Tell Y/N I’ll be out soon, I don’t want her worrying about me, she doesn’t need that shit.”

“ 'course,” Sarah said, her voice softening at the mention of the girl. Sarah paused, and when she spoke again, her tone softened slightly,

“You know Dad will come through.”

He took a moment, her words sinking in. For the first time, he let himself lean into the comfort of her confidence, even if just a little. But it didn’t erase the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah.. this whole thing… it’s just so fucked up.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it faltered slightly.

“I know, Rafe,” she said, her voice softening with a touch of concern, “but you did the right thing- well maybe not entirely but you kept her safe.”

Rafe sighed again, hand rubbing over his face as more out of frustration than anything else. The phone beeped indicating his time was coming to an end, he muttered out,

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone sees it that way,”

“I’ll take care of it. Just don't do anything stupid, dad’s coming.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m waiting.”

The phone call ended with a quiet click, and Rafe leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but no matter the cost, he’d make sure that that nobody ever placed their hands on his girl again.

Get me the fuck out of here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The adults were deep in conversation, their voices rising and falling in heated debate over the next steps. Marie and Ward seemed to be clashing again, Andrew attempting to mediate, while Rose sat quietly, interjecting with the occasional remark. The legal jargon and logistics were swirling around Y/N like a cloud, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

She had moved from the couch to the window, the noise behind her fading into a dull hum as she stared out at the darkened sky, palm trees dancing in the growing wind. The faint reflection of the room in the glass showed her parents gesturing animatedly, but she couldn’t focus. Her arms wrapped around her body instinctively, trying to hold herself together. It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, Ward had gotten Rafe out of jail, although at a high price, and it was clear that Cooper’s family was anything but pleased at the Sheriff's actions. Now, both families were collected at Tannyhill, debating what they were going to do with the situation at hand.

“Hey.”

The low voice startled her, and she turned to see Rafe standing a step away, his expression soft. “You okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched. It wasn’t dramatic, just a slight jerk of her body, but it was enough for him to notice. His brows furrowed, and he quickly pulled his hand back, letting it drop to his side.

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a step closer but keeping his distance.

“No, I’m-” Y/N cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Rafe could see through her words. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were still distracted before returning his focus to her.

“You don’t have to be fine Y/n...”

Y/N shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just-” She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. “I just want to make sure Cooper gets what he deserves, I want him in jail. I want him...”

I want him dead

Rafe studied her for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “He does deserve that but this,” He looked faintly to the room, to the chaos of discussions and decisions swirling around them. “this is a lot, Y/N, for anyone.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Does he think I'm weak?

Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at him her eye's narrowing slightly, “I can handle it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice calm. “Okay, just… don't push yourself too far, too fast. Whatever happens, I’m here alright?”

She blinked at him, her irritation at him faltering, “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Always.”

They stood there for a moment in silence, the tension in her body softening under the weight of his steady presence. Behind them, the voices of their families carried on, oblivious to the quiet moment by the window. Their relationship was rather bizarre. Of course both of them knew there was a distance between them, the event’s of Y/n’s party had not gone forgotten, however the girl was less hostile towards the brunette, her gaze often staying on him a second too long so he’d catch her eye. But she wasn’t ready for things to go back to normal between them, just because he’d… intervened on the night of halloween did not mean she’d forgiven him, not fully anyways; his words would sometimes linger in the back of her mind and after what had happened she couldn't help but think they were true. 

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxieties, Y/N sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Sarah perched beside her, offering silent support. Across the room, Ward paced restlessly, his powerful presence dominating the space. Rafe stood against the wall, his bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. Rose, sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her serene demeanour masking the tension she felt, Marie mirroring her expression. However Andrew, Y/N’s father, exchanged worried glances at the young girl on the couch, as though silently debating how far they should push his daughter on such a delicate subject.

“This isn’t just about what happens next,” Ward said, breaking the silence. “We need to think about the bigger picture. Rafe’s already been charged with assault, and if this goes to trial, it won’t just be about him. It’s going to pull Y/N into the spotlight too.”

Y/N straightened slightly her voice soft, “Because of what Cooper- did…?”

Ward hesitated before nodding. “Yes. That’s going to come out, whether you’re ready for it or not,” his eyes looked at the girl as he spoke out, yet she had to avert her gaze, looking away, feeling oppressed by the man's cold stare.

“She’s not the one who did anything wrong,”

Rafe snapped, his voice sharp as he noticed his father's gaze at the girl, “Why does it matter if it comes out?”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Sarah interjected, her voice rising slightly as she fiddled with the blanket placed between her and Y/n, “but you know how people are, they’ll twist it into something it’s not.”

Andrew leaned forward, addressing Ward directly. “So what are you saying? That Rafe shouldn’t fight this? That he should plead guilty?”

“Of course not,” Ward said with a scoff, halting his pacing.

God forbid someone stains the Cameron name

“But we need to be strategic. If Y/N presses charges, it could complicate Rafe’s case. They’ll try to paint him as an angry kid looking for a fight.”

“That’s not what happened,” Y/N said, her voice wavering as she looked at Ward shaking her head with a small frown, “he was protecting me.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the girl’s words, his eyes finding hers amongst the uneasiness of the room. Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. We know. But the court doesn’t always care about the truth. They care about what they can prove and how it looks to a jury.”

“Why are you all acting like I was in the fucking wrong”

Rafe said angrily, stepping forward as he gestured around to the parents at the table. Rose spoke for the first time, her voice gentle.

“Rafe, no one is questioning why you did what you did. But the law can be difficult.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Ward. “That I shouldn’t press charges because it might hurt Rafe’s case?”

“No,” Ward said firmly. “I’m saying we need to think carefully about how we handle this. Your testimony could help Rafe, but it could also backfire if they twist it the wrong way.”

Andrew nodded. “He’s right. If we’re going to fight this, we need to be ready for anything Cooper’s lawyers throw at us, and considering their family deals with law I suspect they've already started planning.”

Marie, who had been quiet until now, glanced at her daughter, her lips pressing into a thin line. She rose from where she sat walking over to her daughter placing her hand on the girl's shoulder as she asked, 

“Y/N, maybe… maybe we should handle this quietly hmm? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but think about how much worse it could get if it goes public.”

Seriously?

Seriously?

Rafe's brows pulled down into a frown at the older woman's words, Y/N stared at her mother in disbelief. “Are you saying I should just let this go?”

Marie sighed, tightening her grip slightly. “I’m saying… it might be better to keep this private. No one needs to know.”

“No one needs to know?” Y/N repeated, her voice rising. “He- He assaulted me. He-"

Don't say it-

"Either way if no one does anything, he’s just going to do it again, if not to me then to someone else.”

Rafe moved closer, his voice low and full of conviction. “She’s right he deserves worse.”

Ward looked at Rafe sharply. “Justice isn’t always that simple. You know that well enou-"

"Okay!"

Sarah leaned forward, her hands resting on Y/N’s knee. “Can we just stop acting like this is a chess game? Y/N deserves to make her decision without feeling guilty about how it affects Rafe’s case.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “Sarah’s right. We can support both of them. We just need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Y/N turned to Rafe, her voice soft but steady. “Have you thought about what’s next for you- I mean, with Cooper pressing charges...”

Rafe hesitated, glancing at his father. “Yeah. I talked to the lawyer this morning. They’re saying it depends on what Cooper’s camp does. If they push for jail time…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

Ward finished for him. “They’re pushing for jail time. Cooper’s family has money, connections from New York. They’re not going to let this go easily.”

Y/N’s hands balled into fists on her lap as she looked down at them, Andrew's worried gaze darted to his daughter as his wife's voice spoke up,

“Y/N, you don’t understand how this works. If you press charges, they’re going to drag you through the mud to defend Cooper and they’ll use Rafe’s case to make you both look bad.”

Is she always this much of a bitch-

Andrew reached for his daughter’s hand, his voice calm but firm. “Sweetheart, if you’re sure you want to press charges, we’ll stand by you. But you need to be ready for what’s coming.”

Y/N met her father’s steady gaze, a small frown on her face. “I am ready.”

Ward looked at Rafe, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the table, “And you need to be prepared too. Cooper’s lawyers are going to argue that you acted out of rage, not defense. I’ll talk to the Thorton's about it, see if they can help in court.”

Marie leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Y/N, are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not just about Cooper. It’s about everything that comes after…”

Y/N’s hands trembled, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’m sure, I’m not going to let him win.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them.

Ward nodded, his voice firm. “Then we fight for both of you. No hesitation.” 

Y/N looked at Rafe, and he looked back, their mutual understanding unspoken but clear. They were in this together whether they liked it or not, no matter how messy it got.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was quiet again after the tension of the family meeting. The echoes of Ward’s commanding voice and Marie’s sharp tones seemed to linger in the air the voice’s heard from the nearby office, but now it was just Rafe and Y/N sitting on the couch. The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across their faces, and the weight of everything unsaid hung heavily between them. Rafe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. He’d been quiet ever since their parents left, staring at the floor like it held answers to questions he couldn’t answer. Y/N sat next to him, her knees tucked under her, fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on the blanket she held in her lap. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

What?

Rafe scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re the one asking if I’m okay?” He glanced at her, his blue eyes tired but sincere. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Probably

“I mean… yeah,” she said, hesitating. “But… I don’t know. You’ve got so much going on with… everything.”

“So do you,” he countered quickly, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.” He stopped, exhaling sharply, trying to control the frustration he felt, not at her, but at everything else. Y/N looked to him, her voice firmer this time.

“Rafe I mean it, are you okay?”

He let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m so pissed. I’m pissed at Cooper, at the cops, at my dad for acting like he can buy his way out of this.” His hand hit softly against the edge of the couch as he spoke, he glanced at her again, his jaw tight. “I’m pissed at myself for not finding you sooner, for-” His voice faltered, and he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Get your shit together

“Rafe,” she said softly, hand moving slightly closer to his which now rested against the cushion of the couch between them. “It’s not your fault, c’mon don’t do this to yourself.” She shook her head slightly as the words passed her lips.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, not looking at her.

“I do,” she said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you- you were protecting me.”

You saved my life what if he-

“And now Cooper’s trying to fucking flip this, like I’m the bad guy?”

He sighed, leaning forward again as he pointed his fingers into his chest angrily before he rubbed a hand over his face.

“And you pressing charges against him- it’s the right thing to do, but… it’s going to cause so many problems. They’re going to try to twist everything around and make it look like it wasn’t what it was; they’re gonna talk about you but you don't deserve that shit.”

Her eye’s flickered over the boy, noticing his leg moving restlessly, jaw clenched. “I don’t care what they try to do,” she said, her voice shaking with conviction. “We’re not going to let him get away with it.”

Rafe turned to look at her, his gaze searching hers. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“...no” she admitted. “I don’t think I ever will be, but if I don’t… who else is going to stand up to him?” She looked down at her lap, her voice quieter now. 

“I’m scared, but I’m more scared of him doing this to someone else. I can’t live with that… knowing I could’ve prevented it.”

He looked at her, taking in the bruises wrapped around her neck, now a deep purple. He looked down to her hand, wrist tainted in the same coloring, a mocking reminder of what had happened. His hand moved forward slightly, fingers resting inches away from hers.

“You’re braver than I am, you know?”

No I'm not

She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they were facing pressing down on them. Finally, Y/N looked up at him, 

“We’re going to figure this out, right?”

“Yeah we will, no matter what.”

Rafe nodded, though his expression was still somber. As they sat together in the dimly lit room, the sound of the wind rattling the windows outside, Y/N realized something: for the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely alone. The silence stretched between her and Rafe, heavy but not uncomfortable- just the weight of everything they’d been through present upon both their shoulders.

Rafe shifted slightly, his hand still resting near hers, he had the undeniable urge to take her hand in his but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He already was overcome with relief every time she spoke to him, thanking whatever higher power that she would look at him rather than shut him out. 

I don't deserved it.

His jaw tightened, like he was working up the courage to say something, but nothing came. Y/N glanced at him, noticing the way his gaze lingered on the floor, the corners of his mouth downturned. The memory of their last real conversation- the one before Cooper, before everything else that had happened- suddenly pushed its way into her mind. The words she’d said, the way his voice had cut through her like glass, it all replayed vividly. Those two months that she had spent away from him were agony, and she wished it had never come to that. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring, before she finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rafe looked up sharply, his brows drawing together in confusion as he noticed the tears collecting on her lower lashes. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, louder this time, though her voice still cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she forced herself to meet his gaze. 

“For what I said to you that night for—” Her breath hitched as she fought to keep her composure. “For calling you a junkie I shouldn’t have… that wasn’t fair.”

Rafe’s face softened instantly, the lines of tension around his mouth easing. He opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N kept going.

“-and for slapping you,” she added, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I shouldn’t have, I never should’ve done that it was disgus-”

“Stop,” Rafe interrupted gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I was angry, I was so, so angry and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I didn’t know how else to handle it. Seeing you in his room…” 

She trailed off, biting her lip to stop it from trembling, her hand coming up to wipe the tear off her skin. Rafe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You weren’t wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rough. 

“I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been doing that. And I… I shouldn’t have called you what I did.” He exhaled shakily, as he turned his body to face her properly now, “That was so fucked up Y/n, and I hate that I said it I don’t even know where the words came from I- you didn’t deserve that.”

Y/N blinked at him, her tears spilling freely now. She said softly,

“You meant it though-”

“-no, no I didn’t.” 

Rafe said quickly, his voice firm. He frantically pushed his hair out of his face shaking his head at her,

“I didn’t. I was angry and so fucking stupid, and I wanted to hurt you because… because you were right. If you think that’s what I think of you I- I would be a fucking fool to think that of you…”

Her breath hitched at his honesty, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I’m sorry” 

He said again, his voice breaking. His eyes were glossy now too, his usual bravado stripped away. 

“For everything. For that night, it was…- it was your fucking birthday and I just- I’m so sorry and-”

Rafe shifted beside her, his jaw tight, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart constricting at the tension in his features.

“What I said about your brother I-”

The memory made her chest ache, she looked away shaking her head slowly the air was thick with the debris of unspoken emotions. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she was back in her brother’s room, Rafe’s words from that night slicing through her mind. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly. 

“Y/N…please look at me…”

Please, please-

Her voice was trembling as it rose from her throat, “Seeing you in his room- doing coke- it just…” She broke off, shaking her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I couldn’t handle it and…”

She couldn’t find her voice to finish the sentence, her hand rising to her face once again to wipe the salt water off her cheeks. Rafe was silent for a moment, his throat tightening. 

“You had every right to be mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have been in there-  I shouldn’t have been doing that. I- I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

Y/N lifted her head, her tear-streaked face meeting his regretful gaze. “You told me to get over it,” she said softly, her voice shaking. 

“...that I should just forget about him.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I said that, and I didn’t mean it. I just…I was hurt because you were with-... It doesn’t matter but I wanted to hurt you too and I know it was a petty thing to do...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident. 

“I was being selfish.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face now, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “It felt like everything you’d ever said to me about him was a lie. After he died, Rafe you were the only one I would go to, it felt like.. It felt like you didn’t mean any of it like- like none of it was true” She trailed off, shaking her head as she struggled to put her feelings into words as she pursed her lips together.

“That room is all I have left of him. And you just… how could you do that to me Rafe?”

“I know, I know- ”

Rafe said again, his voice breaking. “I was an asshole, and I hate that I said that to you, I hate that I hurt you I-” He stopped letting out a breath, he could feel the lump growing in his throat as he spoke,

“I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than what I did. Those two months we were apart, not a day went by where I didn’t feel guilty about what I said… I- I’ve never been so miserable-” 

A soft sniffle cut through the air, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up from the floor to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. Rafe’s eyes were bloodshot, glistening with tears that slipped freely down his flushed cheeks. His chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and his hand gripped the back of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His other hand came up, roughly swiping at his tears, but more fell, relentless.

“I was so- fuck. I was so alone and I lo- I care about you so much I’m so sorry-” 

His voice shattered, and he dropped his head forward, the palms of his hands came up roughly to rub his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and unfiltered. His entire body shook with the weight of it, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. She’d never seen him like this- so vulnerable.

What are you doing man up fucking man up 

It made something inside her crack. 

Slowly, she shifted forward, inching closer to him. Her hands trembled at her sides, the feeling of fear, terror of someone touching her, of touching someone, it still clung to her, making her hesitate, but the sight of him crumbling in front of her pulled her forward.

It's okay, it's just Rafe he'd never do anything to you

Her hand reached out, hovering in the air, uncertain, before she gently placed it on his arm. The contact was featherlight, almost unsure, but it was enough. Rafe’s head lifted slightly, his tear-filled eyes locking onto hers in surprise.

She gave him a small, fragile smile- barely there, but it was something, and that was all he needed.

Rafe blinked, and without thinking, she moved closer, her arms slowly wrapping around him. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and anxious, but she didn’t let go. She pressed herself into him, holding him tightly, and for a moment, Rafe froze. Then, carefully, his arms came around her. He pulled her in, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he let out a broken breath, his body still trembling.

“I’ll never- ever- do that to you again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry- I’m so fucking sorry.”

I love you

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, spilling over as she held him tighter. “It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Rafe’s arms tightened around her, but his hold was careful- gentle in a way that made Y/N’s chest ache. His hand moved slowly, fingers smoothing over her hair with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.  

“I’ve missed you so much” 

He breathed out, his voice hoarse and uneven, barely holding together. Y/N’s grip on him faltered for a second, her heart thudding in her chest. For the first time since halloween, someone’s touch didn’t feel threatening. It didn’t feel wrong. She let out a shaky breath, her body slowly starting to relax into him.  

“I’ve missed you too” 

She whispered, the words fragile but honest. Rafe let out a soft, broken sound- half sigh, half sob- and tucked her closer, like he still couldn’t believe she was in his arms, he never thought it would happen again. His hand continued its slow, calming path through her hair, grounding both of them.  

“I swear I’ll- I’ll never hurt you like that again.” 

I love you so fucking much

He murmured, his voice cracking. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her face into his shoulder as she let out a quiet hum. Neither of them moved to let go, they stayed locked in that quiet, fragile moment, holding onto each other as if letting go would shatter them both.

"Y/n I lo-"

A knock at the door startled both of them.

Y/N’s head snapped up as she instinctively moved away from Rafe, body tense again. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie, and her eyes darted toward the door like it might burst open on its own. Rafe noticed immediately. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he reached for her hand. “You’re safe yeah, It’s probably just Sarah or Wheezie.”

She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced, her nerves still on edge. He squeezed her hand once before letting go and heading for the door, eyes flickering back to the girl who remained on the couch. When he opened it, a familiar voice filled the quiet space.

“Did someone order a party?”

It was Kelce, grinning like he owned the place, holding a cake box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Topper stood behind him, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers, clearly unsure what to do with them.

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his face quickly off any tears left on his cheeks, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kelce pushed past him into the house, offering the cake out like a peace offering. “We figured you two could use a little cheering up, s’been a rough week. Cake makes everything better, right?”

Y/N appeared in the doorway of the living room after hearing the boys’ voices, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. She looked at the bouquet in Topper’s hand, then up at him, a small flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Flowers?”

Topper shrugged, looking sheepish. “I panicked. They were next to the bakery.”

“Nice touch,” Rafe said dryly, shutting the door behind them. Kelce held up the box like it was a prized trophy.

“Chocolate cake aaannnnnd, because we’re such thoughtful friends, beer for me and Topper- ” He pulled something from the grocery bag, holding it out to Rafe. “-some bandages for your beat-up knuckles.”

Rafe stared at the box of bandages and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You guys are idiots.”

“You’re welcome,” Kelce said, completely unfazed.

Y/N stepped forward hesitantly, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “You didn’t have to do this.” Her eye’s flickered over everything they’d started taking out on the kitchen table.

Are those hello kitty band-aids? 

“Of course we did,” Topper said, setting the flowers on the counter. “You’ve both had a tough week so consider this… a friendship intervention?”

Kelce set the cake on the table and began rummaging through drawers, searching for plates. “We’re not saying cake and beer will solve all your problems, but hey, it’s a start.”

Y/N let herself lean against one of the stools by the island, a real, albeit small, smile forming on her lips as she watched the two boys bicker over who got the bigger slice of cake. Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, observing the scene. His eyes flicked to Y/N, who caught him watching and gave him a shy smile.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, just for her to hear.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the moment. “Because apparently they’re not leaving until we ‘eat that damn cake’.”

Y/N laughed—a light, genuine sound that made both Topper and Kelce look up in surprise. “Hey, if you’re laughing,” Kelce declared, pointing his fork at her, “then we’re doing our job right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation, a brief reprieve from the storm they all knew was still brewing. For a little while, it was just friends and cake, and Y/n found herself forgetting about the events of the past couple of weeks.

Topper managed to pull up a movie on the TV, one they had all watched together countless times when they were kids. The flickering title screen of an old animated film illuminated the room, and the familiar opening music filled the space. Y/N looked at the screen for a second, her lips curving slightly at the sight of something so familiar and comforting;

 “I forgot about this movie,” she said softly.

“Yeah, we used to watch it all the time at my place, right?” Kelce chimed in, sitting down with his slice of cake. Y/N let out a soft giggle, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. 

“You’d always eat all the Twizzlers before the movie and end up falling asleep halfway through.”

“Hey, I was a growing boy!” Kelce protested, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Yeah, well, it was more like a sugar coma,” 

Rafe teased from the other side of the room, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Topper leaned back on the couch with a sigh, his eyes focused on the screen but his mind clearly drifting. 

“I remember watching this with you guys, like, what? Ten years ago? I don’t think we really appreciated how good we had it back then.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a moment, the weight of everything that had happened creeping back into her thoughts. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the darkness aside. “Yeah, things were so easy…” she said, her voice quiet. Rafe glanced at her from across the room, his expression softening.

Don't do that

“It wasn’t all easy,” he said quietly, his eyes on the TV but his mind on the past, “Remember the time we got stuck in Topper’s treehouse after you dared me to climb it without the ladder and I broke my arm?”

Y/N laughed despite herself, the sound light and genuine. “I never made you climb it. You insisted on it, and then-” She paused for effect. “-you screamed like a girl when you fell.”

“That’s because it fucking hurt, Y/N,” Rafe shot back, rolling his eyes but clearly amused. “And I was eight, so sue me.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know Rafe was a pussy from an early age,” Topper chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta admit, that was pretty funny.”

Y/N snickered, shaking her head as she leaned back into the couch. “You guys were a mess, honestly. All I did was watch.”

“Liar,” Rafe said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You used to egg us on.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” she said, her eyes softening as she glanced at him.

“Good times.” Topper added, shaking his head. 

Y/N smiled faintly. “Good times,” she agreed, her voice wistful.

The room settled into a comfortable silence as the movie continued to play, and as the night wore on, the group grew more relaxed. The movie had long since become background noise, with everyone scattered around the room. Topper and Kelce were sprawled out on the other couch, barely paying attention to the screen as they were more focused on the conversation that was slowly developing between Rafe and Y/N.

Y/N’s feet were comfortably resting next to Rafe’s lap, her body slumped into the couch as exhaustion from the past few days started to settle in. It had been an emotional rollercoaster, but right now, in this peaceful moment, she felt safe. Rafe absentmindedly rested his hand on her foot, his touch comforting and steady. Kelce, catching sight of their proximity, exchanged a knowing look with Topper. They were both silent for a beat, as if contemplating whether to ask the question hanging in the air. Finally, Topper broke the silence with a raised eyebrow. 

“So…” He gave a small grin. “We didn’t want to ask before, but are you two, good now? I mean, last time we checked, it was a bit…”

Rafe and Y/N exchanged glances. She couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the question. Rafe returned her gaze, his expression softening as he squeezed her  foot gently, a silent reassurance.

“We’re good,” Rafe said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of relief in it as he glanced down at Y/N, giving her a quiet smile. Y/N nodded slowly, her lips curving upward humming back in agreement. Kelce raised an eyebrow but didn’t press any further, exchanging a knowing glance with Topper. 

“Well, good,” Kelce said, his tone light but with an edge of relief. “About time, right?”

Smug assholes

Topper smiled. “We were both waiting for that.”

The weight of the past few days hadn’t disappeared, but in this moment, surrounded by the people who cared about her and Rafe, it felt a little bit lighter. However the comfort couldn’t stay forever, the atmosphere shifted once again, this time taking a more serious turn. Topper and Kelce were leaning forward on the couch now, their attention focused on Rafe and Y/N, ready to face the reality of what was happening.

“So… Cooper’s pressing charges against you?” 

Party's over

Kelce asked, his tone trying to sound casual but not fully hiding the tension in his voice. Rafe’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N before he answered.

 “Yeah. He’s pressing charges,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching slightly as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “But we’re gonna handle it.”

Y/N looked over at him, her gaze heavy with both concern and support. “And um… I’m going to press charges against him,” she said quietly, “you know, for what he did...”

The room grew heavy with the weight of her words, Topper and Kelce exchanged an uncertain glance, the truth of the situation sinking in as they processed her decision.

“You sure about that?” Topper asked, his voice quieter than usual, a note of concern underlining his words. Y/N nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I have to, I can’t let him get away with it.”

Topper nodded at her in support, “I’ll see if I can get my pop’s in the court for the hearing… I doubt the Millers will know about him being family.”

Rafe looked at him, his lips pursed as he turned to the girl, sending her a small reassuring smile. “We’ve got your back, always,” his voice was steady despite the turmoil around them. 

For a moment, Y/N felt herself ease slightly, the weight of her upcoming choices lessened by boys’ presence, their unspoken promise to stand with her. However, when a new question arose in her mind she hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping on the armrest as she swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. 

“Do people… do people know?” 

Please say no

Her voice cracked just slightly, the raw vulnerability in her words making everyone in the room pause. Topper and Kelce looked at each other, uncertainty flickering between them. Neither knew how to answer immediately, neither of them wanted to add to her problems, but Y/N could see it in their eyes, and she knew she was bound to hear something she didn't want to. She sat up a little, her heart pounding, and looked at them, almost pleading with her eyes.

“Please,” she said, “tell me the truth.”

Topper sighed, looking down before he looked back up at her. “Yeah. People know… There’s been talk. There was a video… of you, uh, crying.” He winced, as if just saying it was enough to make him uncomfortable. “We don’t know how much it’s been spread, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to say more, but the reality was clear.

Y/N’s hand immediately came up to her face, biting the nail of her thumb to try to block out the sting of embarrassment. She felt her chest tighten, the overwhelming shame flooding in once again. 

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

“It’s… it’s not just you crying…” 

-what?

-what?

Kelce continued, choosing his words carefully. “It’s after Rafe broke down the door, when he found you… your nose’s bleeding, and your dress is uh- well it’s ripped. Someone caught it on their phone.”

Y/N froze, her stomach churning. She felt like the world was crumbling around her. The image they painted in her mind of that moment made her stomach twist in shame. She couldn’t help the feeling of being completely exposed, the thought of others seeing her in such a vulnerable state made her feel sick. The image she’d worked so hard to create, of the perfect ‘Kook Princess’ was no longer valid, and she knew that everyone knew that. Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought the urge to cry, the weight of the situation heavier than she’d imagined. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of it all,  her voice barely escaped, merely a whisper,

“I didn’t want anyone to see that…”

Topper gave a small, understanding nod, his voice softer now. “Listen,” he started gently, “I know it’s a lot to deal with, and I’m sorry, but…” He paused, searching for the right words.

 “Most people, they’re on your side, Y/N, they’re behind you.”

Y/N’s gaze lifted from her hands, her eyes still clouded with shame, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression now. “You really think so?” she asked quietly, barely above a whisper. Kelce, noticing the shift in her demeanor, leaned forward, his expression softening,

“Look- Kooks, Pogues, they’re all behind you, Y/N. People care. Last week at the country club, apparently Matty overheard someone talking shit about it and uh- you remember Elijah?”

“The guy who crushed his dad’s yacht?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows drawing down in curiosity. 

“Yeah yeah, you remember?” He looked over to the girl who sent him a small nod in return.

“So Elijah called this guy out in front of everyone there, gave him a lecture, said he was a ‘shit talker with no future’, I really wish I was there. And then- imagine this- management escorted the guy out and revoked his family's membership.” 

Her brows raised as the boy finished talking, taken aback by the story, taken aback by the fact that people were so involved in what had happened, and not in the way she was expecting. “Yeah,” Kelce confirmed, his voice firm but kind as he noticed the girl's surprise,

“People see what happened to you, and they’re with you, not with him.”

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, processing their words. She had been so worried about the fallout, the judgment, the rumors. But hearing that people were on her side, eased the tight knot in her chest, just a little. She looked at Rafe, her words a little shaky.

“I just… I feel like everyone’s seeing me as something I’m not.”

“You’re not defined by that video, or by anyone else’s opinions. We’ll make sure of that.” Rafe’s voice spoke out, low and soothing.

I'll make sure of it

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand, the sting of her earlier tears still there but the fire of resolve slowly taking its place. “Thanks,” she said softly to the guys, her voice quiet. 

“It helps… hearing that.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged another glance. They could see how much this was hurting her, and while they couldn’t fight this battle for her, they had her back, she was like their sister.

Topper cleared his throat, his voice low but firm. “We’re with you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Kelce shook his head in agreement, then smirked. “Yeah, and if anyone’s got a problem with you, they can catch these hands… or Topper’s.”

“Yeah cause you cry like a bitch when you bruise your knuckles”

“Man shut the fuck up”

Y/n rolled her eyes amused at their banter, but she had a nagging question at the back of her mind, from the moment they told her about the video. She cleared her throat as she spoke, 

“Whose video was it?”

Topper and Kelce stopped shoving each other pausing in hesitance, neither of them seemed to have an answer. “I don’t know,” Topper admitted, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just kind of circulating, you know? People saw it and… well, it got around.”

“Have you guys… do you have it?” she asked, a growing sense of urgency in her tone as she picked at the skin on her thumb. Topper’s face turned serious, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Y/N, maybe it’s best if you don’t see it. Honestly…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Kelce nodded in agreement, glancing down at his phone, his discomfort palpable.

 “Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty bad. We didn’t want you to have to relive that.”

“Please,” she said, her voice stronger now, her eyes pleading.

“Y/n-” Rafe spoke out his hand pushing his hair out of the way. He knew the girl was desperate to see what everyone else had but something gnawed at him, a feeling of unease which made him cautious about the girl seeing the footage.

Don't do this to yourself

 “Send it to me, I deserve to see it. It’s not fair that everyone else has seen it but I haven't.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, both of them hesitating for a moment longer looking over to the boy sitting next to Y/n in uncertainty but he simply let out a sigh, his head nodding ever so slightly, so they reluctantly agreed. Kelce fingers worked upon the screen of his phone, and in seconds her pocket was vibrating. She pulled her phone out of her pocket with sweaty palms, her fingers were shaky as she clicked on the message the video opened. 

Her heart sank as the footage played before her eyes.

There she was- barely clothed, a version of herself she barely recognized. Her face was blotched with dried blood, streaked across her hairline and crusted beneath her nose. Her cheeks were stained with tears,, body visibly trembling; the video on the screen was muted, but she didn’t need sound to know she was sobbing because her chest heaved in shallow, rapid breaths, her lips quivering. Her dress- once something soft and beautiful- hung in tatters. The delicate ribbons that once tied it together were shredded, barely clinging to her shoulders by fraying threads. The fabric was torn and wrinkled, offering little coverage, leaving her exposed in a way that made her stomach turn. She stared at the screen, frozen, unable to tear her eyes away.

Oh my God-

And suddenly, it wasn’t just a video. It was real again.

The cold floor under her skin, the crushing weight on her chest, the way her limbs felt so heavy, so useless. The panic, the fear, the suffocating helplessness, It all slammed into her at once, like a tidal wave she hadn’t been bracing for.

Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.

Until now, it hadn’t felt real. In the days after the party, her mind had blurred it out, like a fog rolling in to protect her from the truth. She hadn’t let herself think about it—not fully. Whenever the memories clawed their way to the surface, her brain shut them down, drowning them in static. Now, the reality of what Cooper had actually done to her hit her with full force. Without thinking, she got up suddenly, her hand trembling as she gripped the phone. Rafe’s voice was full of concern as he jumped to his feet, trying to keep up with her.

 “Woah, woah, slow down, what’s going on?”

“This is-,” Y/N said quickly, her voice quivering. “-this is evidence we can use in court.”

Rafe looked at the girl, not taking his eyes off her slightly jittery frame as he processed what she was saying. The urgency in her voice made it clear that she was ready to expose herself for a chance to take control of the situation but he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Topper stood up from his seat, clearly concerned by the girls reaction, of course he was happy that people’s crude invasion of her privacy was going to at least help in some way, however from the way she gripped the phone in her quivering hold, her eyes flickering down to it’s lit up screen repeatedly he could tell she was on edge. His brows drew down slightly as he opened his mouth to speak out but the girl swiftly turned away from the boys and made her way toward the stairs. Rafe, sensing the urgency in her movements, followed closely behind her.

Shit

“Hey wait! Where are you going?” 

He asked as he jogged up to her, his voice a mix of concern and confusion, as his legs moved quickly to keep by her side. Y/N didn’t stop to look back as she continued up the stairs, the video replaying in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her fingers tightening around her phone. She didn’t answer immediately, her mind focused on one thing,

“We need to show Ward,” she said, her voice almost distant, “We need to show him, so he can send it to the lawyers. It’s… it’s evidence.”

Her steps were steady at first, but as she ascended the staircase, her breathing began to quicken. The video on her phone flickered in her hands, and the reality of what was being shown to her- of what had happened- slowly started to grow heavier. She hadn’t realised it before, but the anxiety was creeping up on her, a tidal wave of panic hitting her chest with every step. Rafe noticed immediately. Her breathing was irregular, quick and shallow, like she was struggling to catch her breath. He’d seen this before- seen her tense up like this, and he knew what was coming.

Shit-

“Hey, hey, slow down,”

 Rafe said, his voice firm but gentle. Y/N didn’t hear him at first, her focus still fixated on the screen, her hand holding it as her eyes watched the repeating video as if it might change the painful reality flashing before her eyes. But Rafe, sensing her distress, stepped in front of her, his hand gently took the phone from hers, switching it off and slipping it into his back pocket,

 “Y/N, hey, look at me, how about you come sit with me, hmm?”

She shook her head, her hands still trembling, but Rafe didn’t let go, he held his hand out for her to take, his voice unwavering. 

I can't, I can't-

“Look at me. Slow down, okay?”

Her breathing was erratic now, chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven gasps. She barely noticed the way her hand was clutching her chest 

“Rafe…” Y/N whispered, her hand now twisting the material of her hoodie in her grasp, her breath shallow and quick. 

“I… I can’t breathe.”

She leaned against the railing, trying to steady herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Rafe’s eyes softened as he took a step closer her,

“It’s okay, Its okay here-” 

He took her hand softly, the panic starting to make her dizzy. She nodded slowly, and Rafe guided her to sit down on the stairs. She lowered herself carefully, her legs feeling weak, and Rafe followed her, sitting a step below her so they were facing each other, still holding her hand to try and ground her.

“Breathe with me,” he reassured her, his voice low and steady. Y/N’s eyes locked onto his, and  took a breath in. But it wasn’t enough. Her chest felt tight. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head at him, chest rising and falling as exasperating breaths past her lips.

I can't do this- fuck

“No? That's okay” 

He watched the girl as she squeezed her eyes shut, the hand that wasn’t holding onto his was gripping the railing of the banister, his heart clenched as he searched his mind for a way to help her. When he first started going to the therapist Y/n had recommended to him to help with his addiction, Rafe had told him about his lack of control over his emotions, over his actions. He thought it was pointless, because how was a random man he didn't know meant to help him with his problems, when he didn't even understand what he was going through. The therapist had taught him about calming strategies, about the importance of grounding yourself and momentarily, the boy doubted the man’s techniques, he thought they were stupid, but now as he sat here in front of the hyperventilating girl in front of him, he couldn't help but think he needed to send the man a thank you note. 

“Just want you to focus on me okay? Can you do that for me Y/n?” 

The boy squeezed her hand gently trying to get her attention as he saw the tear roll down her cheek, the girl’s mind clearly spiraling as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at Rafe infront of her, her head moving up and down in a frantic gesture.

“I want you to tell me three things you can hear,” he instructed gently, observing as she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself as her brows drew down into a small frown of focus. 

“I can hear the TV downstairs, my uh- my heartbeat and, and I c-can hear your voice.”

Her words were breathless and her eyes were closed but Rafe smiled at her anyways, “Good job,” he encouraged. 

“Now, tell me three things you can feel.”

She took a another shaky breath the grip on her hoodie loosened slightly, as her eyes squeezed together, 

“The stairs,” she murmured. “my chest… my heart and… your hand…it’s warm- in mine.”

Rafe nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Doing so good my sweet girl. Can you do one more for me?”

She could still feel the pressure in her chest, but her breathing had calmed, her lightheadedness retreating, she nodded her head slightly in a ‘yes’. 

“What do you see right in front of you?” 

Rafe’s voice rang out in her ears and her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly to adjust to the light before opening fully. She looked around, trying to focus on the details, but her eyes landed on what was right in front of her. She spoke softly, her voice shaking slightly.

“You” 

Rafe’s lips curled into a faint, comforting smile, “What about me?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate this time, her voice steady, “Your eyes.”

“You’ve always had a thing for my eyes, huh?” He chuckled softly, his smile widening as he leaned in a little closer. She nodded, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks. 

“Always” 

Rafe’s smile softened, his hand still holding hers, a gesture that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything. He leaned back against the stairs, still close but giving her space to breathe. 

“Take your time, don’t push yourself so much Princess.”

Her brows drew down slightly as the nickname passed his lips. 

Please don't call me that

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders still tense. She turned her head, resting it back against the railing, and closed her eyes for a moment, still trying to regain her composure. Rafe, watching her closely, stayed quiet for a while, giving her space to process. He knew she was battling a whirlwind of emotions. Fear. Anger. The pressure of what lay ahead. Finally, she opened her eyes again, her gaze soft but still heavy with the weight of everything. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to freak out- I uh, I didn’t realize… it just hit me.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

Rafe said, shaking his head. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. No words needed to be said, they had been through too much together to be embarrassed of each other's fragility. She sighed deeply, looking down before speaking again. 

“I just feel like I’m drowning in all of this. It’s not just the case, it’s everything else. The video… and the fact that everyone’s seen it… I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Rafe, who had been leaning forward, put a hand on her knee slowly not wanting to startle her, his touch gentle. “You’re not drowning, okay? You’ve got people here who are fighting with you... I’m fighting with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. She took another deep breath, hand running over her face to try and regain her composure, this time more steady than before, and stood up slowly, offering a hand to Rafe as she did. He took it, standing up in front of her. 

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

Then, like a thread finally snapping loose, Y/N leaned forward, her body moving on instinct. Her forehead gently pressed against his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt soft but solid beneath her skin. She didn’t say anything- didn’t need to. Her body sagged slightly, the tension in her muscles slowly starting to uncoil as if letting herself go as she breathed in the comforting scent of the boy. Rafe stilled for only a moment, surprised by how vulnerable she allowed herself to be. Then, without thinking, his hand lifted and rested softly on the back of her head, his touch was light, careful. Protective.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady near her ear. His thumb brushed lightly against her hair.

“I’ve got you, yeah? You’re safe.”

A soft hum left her lips, barely audible, but it was enough for him. Her shoulders dropped slightly, the last of her rigid posture melting away as she leaned into him more, hand coming up to rest on his chest. The storm inside her, though still rumbling, quieted just a little in his hold. Rafe didn’t move, not wanting to destroy the perfect tranquility formed between them.

He just stayed there, holding her like he had all the time in the world, his hand cradling her head and his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

I love you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Hey I really love you’re sonic fanfics! so I was wondering if you could do a shadow x female mobian reader where the reader is having a panic attack and can’t stop crying or hyperventilating and shadow tries his best to cheer her up even saying funny stuff or making small and quick silly faces to calm the reader down :)

“Panic, Panic, and More Panic”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Female Mobian Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You always had terrible anxiety, and most of the time, you knew how to handle it. But the time you didn’t, you found help from an unlikely source.

Notes: Okay, so, I’ve never personally experienced a panic attack myself, but I will do my best to portray this correctly. Sorry for not making it exact to your request!

(Reader will use She/Her pronouns.)

(TW: Panic attacks.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

To say Shadow was worried would be an understatement.

You weren’t answering your phone or your communicator, and nobody had seen you today.

So to say he was worried…

Okay, yeah, he was very worried.

He decided it had been enough, teleporting to your house and knocking on your door.

No answer.

He moves his hand up to knock again, only to freeze hearing something.

You.

He can hear your irregular breathing and sobbing all the way from here, and panic instantly enters his mind.

He knew about your terrible anxiety. You were having a panic attack.

Quickly, Shadow pulls the spare key you gave him out of his quills, letting himself inside your home, where he sees you.

Tears are streaming down your face, a hand is clenched on your chest, and your breathing is way too fast for the regular mobian.

Shadow rushes to your side, holding out his hands to touch you before pulling them back, remembering Rouge’s advice on helping with panic attacks.

“Try to control your breathing,” he says in a soft tone. “In, out. In, and out.”

You try to mimic his breathing, your breathing slowing down but still being irregular.

“There you go. That’s an improvement from before,” he says, continuing that soft tone. “Now, try to take a deep breath, like we’ve practised. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.”

You mimic his breathing again, finally able to calm yourself down.

“Th…Thank you…” you mutter, your voice hoarse from all of your crying. “I’m sorry…”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Shadow asks. “It’s not something you can control, [Name].”

You take another deep breath, moving your hands to wipe away your tears, but Shadow kisses them away before you can do so, causing you to giggle.

“There’s my ray of sunshine,” Shadow says, cupping your cheek and giving you one of his rare smiles. “Now, what happened?”

You open your mouth to say something before closing it, looking away from him in sadness.

“Th…This is probably going to sound stupid…” you mutter.

“Nothing you say is stupid, sunshine,” Shadow states.

You take a deep breath before exhaling.

“…There was an accident near my parents’ house, with a car that looked like theirs, a-and when I tried to call them, th-they didn’t answer…” you tell him, your voice starting to tremble as you speak.

“They didn’t answer?” Shadow asks.

“No…they didn’t,” you mutter.

“…Well, why don’t you try one more time?” he asks. “For both of our sake.”

You nod, your shaky hands picking up your phone and calling your mother, putting it on speaker. After a few moments, it picks up.

“Hello?” A voice from the phone asks.

You gasp happily, and Shadow gives you another smile.

“Hey mom, just wanted to check up on you and dad,” you say, feeling better about the situation.

Both of your parents were well, and you always had Shadow to bring you back to reality.

And you loved him for it.

[gothamite-rambler]

That's why I've been making her like Jason if he lived and was blonde. Let me explain although it's going to be rambling.

Her dad and her hate each other. She secretly prays he'll get maimed but live, and loves to talk crap about him.

She's not the best with dating, but it doesn't stop her from dating. She'll date men or women.

She cracks off jokes and meme references and kind of likes to ease the tension as best as she can.

Her mother is Catholic and Irish. That's just something I added since they live in New Jersey.

She doesn't swear a lot if at all. It's a mix of being raised Catholic and she feels the need that you can say a lot of all stuff without curse words.

She doesn't need to be with Tim or Cass or whoever. She liked dating Tim, she would like to date Cass someday, but it's not a central focus.

That's what I got so far. I don't know how to explain it, but I've just never liked the girl who's a love interest and nothing else and I'm sorry Tim and Steph were not an OTP. They were a cute couple, though.

Stephanie Brown is more than an object for shipping or a wacky comedy relief.

[antinousletmehit]

HIIIIIII, could you write something about Telemachus and Reader being his fiancee? I'd love to see them being affectionate with each other and him trying to defend her if any of the suitors mock her 💥

୨୧┇Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇currently burning thru requests

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The halls of the palace were as suffocating as ever, the air thick with the jeers and mockery of the suitors who lounged in the palace. Telemachus stood tall despite the weight on his shoulders, his hand resting protectively on yours as he led you through the hall.

Your presence always drew their attention, something Telemachus both loathed and feared. As his betrothed, you were everything to him, a promise of hope and love amidst the chaos and disrespect these men brought into his home. And, of course, you were stunning,so much so that the suitors couldn’t resist their crude remarks.

Today was no different.

“Well, well, isn’t she a sight,” Antinous sneered, leaning back in his chair as his piercing gaze swept over you. “Telemachus, where did you find such a jewel? Or have you simply kept her hidden from us all this time?” Another suitor, Eurymachus, laughed, raising his cup. “She’s wasted on a boy. Why don’t you let a real man show her a good time, eh?”

Telemachus’s jaw tightened, his hand squeezing yours as he stopped in his tracks. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body wound tight like a bowstring ready to snap. “Say that again,” Telemachus said, his voice low and dangerous. The suitors only laughed louder, their mockery echoing through the hall. “Oh, come now,” Antinous said, smirking. “We’re just admiring her beauty. Surely you can’t blame us for noticing what’s right in front of us.”

“You call that admiration?” Telemachus shot back, his voice sharp. “You’re nothing but cowards who prey on what you don’t deserve.” Your heart clenched as you tugged lightly at his hand. “Telemachus, let it go,” you whispered, not wanting him to escalate the situation.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving the suitors. “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let them speak to you that way.” Antinous chuckled, standing as if to challenge him. “And what are you going to do about it, boy? Run to your mother?”

Telemachus let go of your hand and took a step forward, standing toe to toe with the larger man. Despite the difference in their size and experience, there was no fear in Telemachus’s eyes, only a burning determination.

“She may be in my home, but she’s not yours to look at, to speak to, or to mock,” Telemachus growled. “If you so much as glance at her again, I’ll make you regret it.” The room fell silent, the suitors momentarily stunned by his boldness. Antinous glared down at him, his smirk replaced by something colder. “Big words for a boy who still lives under his mother’s skirt,” he sneered.

Telemachus didn’t flinch. “And you? Big words for a man who eats from another’s table and can’t earn his own keep.” Antinous’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, you stepped forward, placing a hand on Telemachus’s arm. “Enough,” you said softly but firmly. “Let’s go.”

Telemachus hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his anger. Finally, he nodded, taking your hand once more and guiding you toward the door. As you left the hall, the suitors’ laughter resumed, but Telemachus didn’t look back. He walked quickly, his grip on your hand tight but reassuring. Once you were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to you, his expression softening.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.” You smiled gently, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t. You stood up for me, and that means everything.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised, his voice steady. “Not with their words, not with anything. You’re mine to protect, and I’ll do it with everything I have.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest as his arms enveloped you. In that moment, the chaos of the palace faded away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

[dawn-moths]

thinking about tomura being tenko’s older brother where they’re perhaps ten years apart. you and tomura first meet when you’re both eighteen, start hanging out as friends, but you’re only vaguely aware he has a sibling when sometimes he says he can’t hang out that particular weekend because he has to “babysit the brat”.

after a while, you’re able to convince him to show you a picture of his little brother. you’re curious if they look alike, and other than a few features like their eye and hair color, you can easily imagine how tomura looked at that age, too. him and tenko look startling similar to each other even with that many years between them.

“sorry…” tomura grumbles through the other side of your phone call one afternoon. “tenko’s soccer practice got canceled and now my mom’s making me watch him while she’s at work.”

he sounds annoyed, almost embarrassed by the fact that, even at eighteen, he has to obey his mother’s requests, but is ultimately contrite about his last minute change of plans having to effect you so often as well.

“it’s ok,” you assure him with your usual chipper tone, fully understanding the responsibility he has. “but, y’know…” you remind him, “if it’s ok, i could always come over and we could hang out while you’re watching your brother?”

you try and hide your eagerness the best you can. the truth is, you’ve been wanting to meet the mini-tomura for quite some time now. tomura always describes him as annoying, as a needy little brat that whines until he gets his way, but the words are never spit with scorn and there’s something soft in his eyes that always gives away the fact that he actually does care.

tomura usually just brushes off your offer, promises to reschedule with you, so you’re prepared to be let down, but that time, after a short pause of contemplation, tomura clears his throat and says, “i mean, yeah, ok. that’s fine i guess, if you want…”

“ok!” you beam, already grabbing your keys. “i’ll be over soon then!” you hang up, grab your bag, and jump in your car.

any time you’ve been over to tomura’s house (which has been few and far between, since your place tends to be the designated hangout given you usually have the house to yourself most of the time) tenko hasn’t been there. he’s been at his aforementioned soccer practice or a friend’s house or some other activity that’s kept you from meeting him.

you’re so curious it’s overwhelming, and as you pull up to tomura’s house he’s already perched on the front step, gazing at his phone until he hears your car approaching. you park by the curb and scamper up to greet him, giving him a hug as per usual, and though he’d sounded sort of defeated on the phone earlier, seeing your smiling face now makes him feel a little lighter.

“hey,” you grin, momentarily holding both his hands in your own down between your close bodies. sometimes you're reminded how adverse to any kind of physical touch tomura used to be when the two of you had first met. even something as simple as a light, playful nudge would make him flinch, cause him to keep a bit more of a distance for the rest of the day.

but over time, you're not sure exactly why but, something changed.

and it was actually him who came to comfort you that time. you'd been upset, had planned on staying in your room alone until the ache decided to pass. but then you and tomura had started texting. he'd sensed something was wrong so he'd called. he'd heard the heartbreak in your voice, told you he was on his way, and not ten minutes later he was sitting beside you on your bed with his arm around you as you'd talked to him about what had happened while you'd cried.

ever since then, he'd gotten more comfortable with your casual, familiar touches, though he still found it easier to touch you than to be touched by you.

“hey,” he returns, then adds with that hint of that sarcastic humor you’ve come to love so much, “you ready to meet the little demon?”

you laugh, unable to not be amused by his melodrama. “oh, c’mon,” you say, lightly batting at his arm. “he’s only eight, he can’t be that bad!”

all tomura offers in response is a muttered, “yeah, well…” before inviting you inside.

as soon as you walk through the door, a little dog comes bounding towards you, running in energetic circles and barking as his tail wags with both curiosity and excitement. you proceed with caution around the corgi, wanting to reach down to pet him but hesitating around the unfamiliar animal.

the few times you'd been over before, tomura had let his dog out into the yard so he wouldn't end up jumping all over you, so this is the first time you're meeting him up close instead of catching glances of him through a window.

"ugh, sorry..." tomura mutters as he reaches down and scoops his dog up, the canine's tail continuing to wag even more once he's secure in tomura's arms. "i forgot to let him out back..." he then seems to realize something, his eyes widening a bit as he does a double take back at you and asks with a little more guilt in his tone, "you're not afraid of dogs, are you...?"

you wave off his concern with a swish of your hand and a crooked smile. you tell him you're not, you were just a little surprised is all.

"it's mon-chan, right?" you ask, slowly reaching your hand out for the dog to sniff.

"yeah. mon-chan," tomura confirms, readjusting his grip on the wriggling animal. "he's super friendly. just, well..." he gives a half shrug as a small grin cracks at one corner of his mouth. "he can be a lot."

"hey, mon-chan..." you coo, your tone turned sugary sweet, and the dog gives the back of your hand a few friendly licks. "awwww, you're cute, aren't you? what a good boy..."

but before you can dote over the dog too much, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, causing you to shift your view towards the living room that sits off to the side of the main entrance.

and, lo and behold, there he is.

little tenko and his sweet little face that reminds you so much of the older brother you’ve become so fond of.

“hiiiii,” you greet the little boy with a soft voice and a smile. you know kids can often be wary when meeting new people, so when tenko just stares at you with those big, dark eyes you’re not surprised.

“hey,” tomura grumbles to his sibling. “don’t be rude. say hello.”

tenko then seems to snap out of his cautious trance, looking at his brother then back to you before saying, “is this the girl you’re always talking about, nii-san?”

tomura feels his cheeks heat and his ears burn as he sputters out something that sounds like half an excuse, half a scolding before telling tenko to go watch tv and behave. tenko obeys without any trouble and as you pass by through the living room you can see a popular superhero movie playing on the screen.

you travel down the short hall to where tomura’s bedroom lays at the very end, and once the door is shut he seems to become a little less tense.

“i’ll need to make him lunch in about an hour,” he tells you. “but until then…” he flashes you a suggestive smirk and you know exactly what’s coming.

it's one of your favorite things about hanging out together, the way it relieves the tension, lets you two unleash parts of yourself that you rarely let other people see. and tomura's been surprisingly good at it from the start. you wouldn't have guessed at a glance how skilled those hands could be, how coordinated given his usually lax, nonchalant nature...

he tosses you a game controller and you catch it with ease. “wha’dya say we pick up where we left off?” he asks, a hint of darkness to his voice that you now recognize as cold, hard competition.

you feel a look of confidence spreading across your face at the challenge and you reply in a tone befitting of a worthy opponent, “you’re on.”

the next hour passes quickly as you play your guys' favorite co-op game together, leaving you just two points from tying with tomura, and amidst your laughter and playful taunting, there’s a slight squeak as the door creaks on its hinges, little tenko peeking through the thin crack and observing, letting out a quiet gasp when he realizes he's been spotted.

“i’ll be out in a sec,” tomura tells his brother, already knowing what that expectant look means. tenko seems to linger, casting you another glance, and you convince tomura to pause the game.

“c’mon,” you murmur, giving him that guilt-tripping stare that he hates you for being so good at. “let’s go make him lunch and then we can finish this after.”

and it’s that suggestion of we, that suggestion of together, that has him pausing the game and setting his controller aside, standing from his bed to open the door to his little brother and following him down the hall to the kitchen, you close behind.

tomura takes out a tupperware from the fridge and has just popped it in the microwave when his phone buzzes from his pocket. "it's my mom," he states. "gimme one sec." he steps out of the kitchen and begins to wander towards the living room, his voice growing more distant as you hear him pick up the call. you hope everything is ok. but, for now, it's just you and tenko standing in the kitchen, the eight-year-old gazing up at you with that big, curious stare while the microwave counts down the seconds behind him.

"can i have lemonade?" he asks once you meet his eyes and give him a friendly grin.

the microwave beeps and you go to take his lunch out of it. "sure," you answer. but then, a little bit more suspiciously, you ask, "does tomura usually let you have lemonade?"

tenko nods, not giving anything away as you finish plating the other items of his lunch while tomura remains on the phone in the living room. from where you stand, if you glance just slightly around the entryway, you can see him sitting on the couch, leaning forward a bit while he continues to speak with his voice low. you just hope his mom won't be mad that he invited you over while she wasn't home.

it's not like you hadn't been over before when his house was empty, but given this is the first time you've met his little brother, you just hope you're not overstepping somehow. not to mention that, unbeknownst to you, tomura's mom had begun badgering him about meeting you before the end of summer. as soon as she'd caught onto the fact that her eldest son had been hanging out regularly with a girl, she couldn't help but become curious as to what kind of girl she might be.

a bit distracted by your thoughts, you just nod and say to tenko, "ok, sure, you can have some lemonade then."

once his chicken tenders and apple slices and animal crackers are promptly arranged on his plate and a glass of lemonade is poured, you carry tenko's lunch to the table and take a seat across from him while you wait for tomura to conclude his conversation, trying to keep your growing anxiety at bay at any possible problems that may be arising due to that phone call.

you try to listen in, though mostly hear the standard, vague, "yeah. uh-huh. alright," responses from tomura until—

"are you my brother's girlfriend?"

you blink at tenko, taken aback as you sputter over a response to that, wondering for a moment if you merely imagined it. then, once your nervous giggling and bashfulness begins to dissipate, you clear your throat and say, "did tomura tell you that?"

tenko takes another bite from one of his apple slices and says, "no. but he talks about you all the time. he says you're his friend, but i hear him talking to his friends at night when he thinks no one is listening."

you stare at tenko with an intensity you don't realize you're wearing on your face at first, the suspense eating you alive. eventually, when tenko doesn't seem like he's going to offer more, you lower your voice to something closer to a whisper, your gaze darting back to where you can barely see tomura sitting in the other room, still on the phone, and ask tenko, "what do you hear him say?"

tenko, his big eyes moving up and to the right, contemplates that for a moment as he finishes chewing and swallowing his next bite, then tells you, "i don't know exactly. i can't hear what his other friends are saying, but one time i heard nii-san say that you were special." you feel your cheeks heat and again glance over at the back of the boy you've become so fond of so quickly. "he said something about not wanting to ruin anything," tenko continues, reciting the words as if he doesn't quite grasp their meaning. but then, tenko's mouth splits into a mischievous little grin that reminds you so much of tomura, it's honestly a little scary. he says, seeming to find amusement in his next words, "one time, i heard him say you were like his guardian angel or something..."

a childish little giggle bubbles up from tenko's lips, almost as if he finds a cruel kind of pleasure in knowing his older brother's biggest secret, but this information just makes your heart all the more warmer towards tomura.

you'd spent the last couple of months suffering inside your own head about it all— about whether you really meant something to tomura, about if he cared for you as much as you did for him or if you were simply just convenient and would be discarded come any significant distance put between the two of you—

suddenly tenko seems to retract, perhaps sensing your discomfort, so you take the opportunity to clear the nerves and giddiness from your throat and change the subject.

"so, tenko," you begin, trying to straighten out your crooked smile. "tomura tells me you play soccer. do you like it?"

tenko gives a shrug at first, taking another bite of an apple slice that's had the skin peeled and cut to resemble rabbit ears. then he says, "i guess so. but i like watching movies more."

you ask him what kinds of movies he likes, recalling the superhero blockbuster that had been playing on the tv when you'd first arrived, and feel a spark of endearment as tenko's face lights up as he delves into telling you all about his favorite characters and their cool powers.

"wow! you sure know a lot!" you commend him with a beaming smile, and at the compliment tenko's face begins to turn a little red. "do you and tomura ever watch movies together?"

"not really..." the younger sibling sulks, pouting as he peels the remainder of the skin from his apple slice. "nii-san is usually playing video games in his room and my mom says i'm not allowed to play them because they're too violent..." then, before you can tell him that's too bad but one day he'll be old enough to play the same games as his brother, tenko perks back up and tells you, "but sometimes... sometimes nii-san lets me into his room on nights our mom works late and we play mario kart together."

you have to force yourself to stifle a laugh at that. i mean, it's just completely adorable, isn't it? the thought of tomura, who tries so hard to play it off like he couldn't care less about his little brother, like he's nothing more than a nuisance to him, a pest, an inconvenience, does actually take the time to bond with him anyway. at least, when no one's looking.

you tell tenko you also like mario kart, then lean in and add in a playful whisper, "but i bet he doesn't tell you about all the times i've beaten him, does he?"

tenko regards you with blatant skepticism. "no way," he says, as if he's never been more sure about anything in his life. "there's no way you can beat nii-san. he's too good! no one can beat him!"

now you laugh openly, causing tomura to glance over his shoulder just to make sure there isn't too much chaos ensuing in his brief absence, but tenko just looks confused.

"well," you reply, amusement trailing off the end of your words, "he is pretty good. i'll give him that. but unbeatable..." you quirk up one brow and wear a slight smirk for a moment before allowing your features to fall back to normal. then you tell tenko, "just give it time. one day i bet you'll be able to beat him. i believe in you!"

"you behavin' in here?" tomura suddenly appears in the entryway, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he casts his little brother a warning look.

"your girlfriend says she beat you in mario kart, is that true?" tenko blurts out, and you have to force yourself not to tease tomura when his cheeks visibly darken at the mention of you being his girlfriend.

"everything ok?" you ask to defuse the situation a little and put tomura back at ease, but then his look of bashfulness morphs into a look of slight surprise at the sight you and his little brother getting along so well.

quickly, he snaps out of it, and replies, "yeah. she was just checking in," before seeming to notice something awry about the picture here, specifically on tenko's side of the table.

"hey," tomura lightly scolds his brother. "you know mom only lets you have lemonade on the weekends." you immediately begin to apologize, saying that when he asked you thought it would be ok, and feel embarrassed that you let yourself be manipulated by a child, but tomura assures you it's fine before returning to interrogate his little brother who, admittedly, looks very guilty now.

"did you lie to her?" he presses, and for a moment you're afraid he'll make tenko cry. tenko denies it at first and you observe with growing anxiety as the argument between them ramps up a bit.

it isn't until you reach over to place a hand over tomura's, which has been firmly planted on the tabletop as he leans in over his brother, that he seems to simmer down a little.

"one time will be ok, won't it?" you ask him, not wanting to ruin the moment you'd just shared with tenko, feeling like you'd gained a little more of his trust. you use your secret weapon, the one thing tomura can never say no to whenever he sees it— that sweet, pleading stare you give as you gaze up at him, the look that makes his stomach flutter and his head haze over with thoughts he'll be revisiting later once he's alone.

"fine," he concedes, some of the rigidity that had captured his limbs leaving him as he steps away from the table. he looks directly at his brother and concludes with a warning, "but just this once."

you're relieved, and tenko appears to have returned to his prior state of unfazed contentment, but tomura still seems impatient about something.

"c'mon," he says, beckoning you up from the table to follow him back to his room. "we still have a game to finish."

you give tenko a parting smile before humming out an amused, lilting little note, trailing after tomura as you chirp out a mischievous remark of, "are you gonna actually help us win this time? or am I gonna have to carry the entire round again?"

he lets out an incredulous, albeit amused, chuckle, surprising you by throwing his arm around your shoulders and tugging you in closer to his side so you almost stumble down the hallway. "oh, just you wait..." brazen, he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dark, now allowing the butterflies in your tummy to unfurl their delicate wings and take flight, "by the time we're done with this round, the other team isn't even gonna know what hit 'em..."

and, with that, you once again return to the confined space of his only slightly disheveled bedroom, the tv screen still bearing the scores from your last game. although, admittedly, as you continue to sit side by side, knees nudging one another here and there when things start to get a little too desperate or rowdy, you can't help but find yourself a little more distracted and self-conscious than usual.

because you swear you catch tomura glancing at you in between rounds from the corner of your eye, something softer, something warmer than you're quite used to possessing his crimson gaze.

it's a side to him you've rarely gotten to see, but you hope he'll learn to wear it a little more openly around you as time goes on.

besides, when his little brother had asked if you were his girlfriend, he hadn't quite said no, now had he?

[evilbirdy]

🄼🅈 🄾🄽🄻🅈 🄻🄾🅅🄴

𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔~ 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝐿𝑒𝑒𝐻𝒾

𝒮𝑒-𝑀𝒾 𝓍 𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝔾𝕦𝕪𝕤 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕖, 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕕 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤, 𝕀 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕓𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕪’𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪 𝕚𝕥. <𝟛

When your girlfriend told you about these games where you could earn money, you excepted easy children games, not deathly ones.

“I’m sorry I brought us into this,” she muttered, you turned to her lightly nudging her arm.

“Look it’s not big deal, okay. We just have to survive enough to pay off everything then we leave,” she nods at you then goes to her bunk as you went to yours.

You both had agreed to keep your relationship private from the other players, thinking that some people might get messy and use you guys against each other.

“Senorita can I talk to you?” you turned to see a tall dude with purple hair and another dude with shoulder length hair trailing behind him. You recognized him, he is that ‘underground rapper’ your younger brother gushes over.

You tilted your head, signaling him to continue.

“How would you like to join me and my buddy, Nam-su here,” you pretended not to notice his friend grumble behind him.

“Hmm should I?” You smiled, crossing your arms.

“I’ll keep you safe and help you win, then once I get my share, I’ll help you travel the world and you can be my girl,” you chuckled at his attempt to get with you.

“Not really interested,” His reaction almost made you laugh out loud. You can tell that people normally don’t tell him no.

“But I am in need of a team, this isn’t me accepting your whole ‘be my girl’ thing but I rather have alliances,” he then smiles and drags you over with him to his little area.

Se-Mi couldn’t help but stare from afar. She wanted to go up and tell him to back off but she kept her cool.

You entered the room for the second game, you followed Thanos aimlessly knowing people are practically lining to team up with him.

“Senorita, excuse me,” you look up, finding out that the lucky person he chose was your girlfriend, herself. She glanced over at you for a quick second, you notice her tapping her arm, it was a small signal you guys do to check up on each other when others are around.

You zone out a bit as the two talked. You fiddled with your tracksuit and hands.

“This is Nam-su and this is (your name),” you quickly looked up right, we are pretending to not know each other.

Se-Mi introduces her little friend; Min-su. Hmm he is a little cutie, he reminds you of her younger cousin maybe that’s why she picked him.

When you sat on the ground waiting for the game to start, you had assumed that she would want us to sit far apart but she sat right to you. The game had started and you felt nervous for the players, looked at the clock as the time goes down. You looked down at your shoes, tracing lines on it, you stayed in the small happy place, it was disturbed by a round of gunshots. You felt Se-Mi pull you against her.

You grabbed her hand, hiding it under both your legs so no one gets suspicious. You watched as she fought with Nam-gyu a bit, you squeezed her hand telling her to quit it. She gave you a small smile and squeezed back. You all passed the second game, you sat next to her as we wait for the remaining players to either die or pass the game.

“Hey Min-su, why don’t you go count all the players,” Nam-gyu tells Min-su.

“Why,” Minsu plays with his hands and his suit. You bit your tongue not liking how Nam-gyu is talking to him.

Min-su was gonna get up and do what he says before Se-Mi stops him and pulls him back down.

“Why does he need to count? Are you stupid?” you laugh into your hand as she says that.

“Fucking bitch,” he says

“Hey don’t talk about her like that, just because you never got attention from your own mother doesn’t mean you get to disrespect women,” you heard Se-Mi hype you up holding up a fist bump for you and you returned it.

“enough,” Thanos says. He goes around saying we need to treat each other like friends and asked us our birth years. I couldn’t help but stifle my laugh and side eye Se-Mi when she lies about her year.

As time passed, you did hang out with Se-Mi more than others, Thanos shrugged it off as ‘girl power’ and leaved it be.

The third game had started, you stayed next to Se- Mi the entire time.

“Four” the voice rang out.

You felt nervous, before you even realized it, Se-Mi was pulled from your grasp. She was fighting against Thanos and Nam-guy’s grip. You breathed out heavy.

You are so fucked

You were going to accept your fate when you were dragged into a room. You looked up at your saviors. It was players 456, 001, and 390. You have seen them around.

“Thank you so much,” they nodded at you, then turned to each other hoping their other teammates found a room.

You walked out, almost slipped on some blood. You see Se-Mi in the distance. As much as you wanted to run up to her and hug her tight, decided not to, given the circumstances, you felt your heart break noticing her sad glances towards you.

You were invited by 456 to join their team. You accepted and played a couple of rounds. You hear the voice yell out “2’ and told everyone that you were gonna find someone. They nodded and told you to stay safe as you ran off.

You were looking for Se-Mi and you felt your heart pounding, you were then pulled into a room, you felt relief at the familiar hand tugging you.

You sighed happily when Se-Mi locked the door, you wrapped your arms around her as she wrapped hers around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” you hear her whisper to you, you hug her tighter.

“I tried to fight them off b-but I couldn’t…I thought I lost you..I was so scared,” you pulled back from her, wiping her tears.

“It’s okay baby, I’m safe and you’re safe, that’s all I care about. What happened? Where’s Min-su?” her face falters, her fingers tugging on my suit.

“In the round for the team of three, I told him that we were gonna go look for you but.. he chose to go with Thanos,” You sigh, playing with her hair.

The buzzer is heard before the doors unlocked, we walk out. The once clean floor decorated with blood. You turned to Se-Mi following her gaze to see a guilty Min-su.

She grabs your hand and pulls you to the doors. Thankfully that was the final round and you can return to the common room.

You brought her over to the 456’s team, he looks up and smiles.

“282, you survived,” you nod, then tilted your head down.

“I hope it’s not too late to join your team, I’m ready to go home,” he motions you two over to sit with them. You introduced them to Se-Mi.

You saw her staring off again, noticing Thanos and Nam-gyu glaring at you both. You squeezed her hand and pulled it on your lap, fidgeting with her rings.

You felt your heart drop as you hear players being elimated, but a game never happened, a bunch of players walked out bloodied.

Are you serious? Killing each other counts as a game.

456 told you about the plan and you ran to tell Se-Mi.

“But Nam-gyu might attacked,” you interrupted her by grabbing her face.

“Se-Mi I swear to everything, if you die, I will bring you back to kill you myself,” she smile and kissed your forehead.

“Okay, I’ll stick with you,I promise.”

When the lights went out and the chaos ensured, Se-Mi grabbed your hand the entire time. You guys were under the bed with player 222 and 388. You watched as Nam-gyu went on his killing spree, you pulled Se-mi closer to you. When the lights turned back on and some of them players took the guards’ guns, you and Se-Mi chose to stay in the common room with the others.

You sat at the top of the bunk, looking at the aftermath of everything. You see Min-su looking at you both from the other side, you send him a smile and wave.

“Hey, where do you wanna go after this?” You look up at Se-mi, she was staring at the ceiling, playing with her lip piercing.

“Home,” you scoffed, laying your head on her shoulder.

“Yeah but like other than home, like let’s get away, enjoy life when we have it,” your eyebrows raise, you never except a line like that from your girlfriend.

“Welll…I always wanted to go to the US,” you always wanted to travel the world but you two had only a penny to your name.

“Then that’s where we will go,” she takes your hand and kisses it.

“I love you, (your name).”

“I love you, Se-Mi.”

[lucygraysboy]

“would you like to supervise the process?” he offers with a smile, figuring she ought to have some sense of control over what’s happening to her most precious belonging. “also, i’ve been thinkin’… i’m sorry ‘bout what i said last night. ‘bout my ma’s scarf.” how he initially thought she must have stolen it and decided to take it away from her. “that was very wrong of me. it’s not like my ma will ever wear this scarf again or like just lookin’ at it, lyin’ there collectin’ dust, will bring her back or somethin’. maybe we could use the fabric to replace the missin’ ruffles on your dress? i think she’d like that.” it would give the dress a fresh look, some more color, and they would be reminded of both their mothers every time lucy gray put it on. of course, only if she allows it. “well, i don’t think there’s a covey as unique as ours out there. we win,” he laughs, dragging the twigs through her wet ringlets, fingers following. repeating the motion until there’s not a single tangle left. “horse playin’,” he echoes with a chuckle, basking in the sound of their happiness. suddenly, the little hut feels almost cozy, homey. filled with laughter and jokes, with a sense of togetherness. what else could anyone need? “no!” he’s quick to protest, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily just in case she decides to turn around and stand up, determined to protect her dignity and innocence. “i mean, no, thank you. an anatomy lesson won’t be necessary. not that i’ve ever seen a…” goodness gracious, what is he trying to confess? and why? what for? he scolds himself, cheeks burning, tongue tied with embarrassment. “i’m — it’s… oh! there’s other kinds of soap here!” he lays the makeshift brush on his lap and picks up the box that the previous owners must have left behind, occupying himself by taking out different bars of soap and sniffing them. “this one smells like lavender, and look, it’s such a pretty shade of purple, too.” he extends his hand, presenting the small, oval-shaped soap to the brunette. “how do you even make soap?” he wonders aloud, not the most subtle subject change but he prays it will do. 

listening intently, billy finds himself nodding his head in agreement. the subject of coriolanus seems to be a sore one for the both of them, in their own way and for somewhat different reasons. “oh, that one,” manipulation, “he’s been great at always. guess that’s an inherited talent,” he muses with a chuckle, trying to make the conversation a bit more light-hearted even if it’s ultimately impossible. “i think you know him a lot better than i do, and so you’re most likely right. somethin’ must have switched at some point.” as a boy, he seemed very much capable of loving others. or so it seemed to billy. who really knows? “you don’t know who the third was? what’d he say when you asked ‘bout it?” he wonders, scooping up some more water to pour down lucy gray’s back and shoulders. the one sentence that haunts him being — coriolanus seemed as nice as you. well, was he faking it the whole time? or is it some generational curse? “i’ll never lie to you, lucy gray. never turn on you,” he swears and then is left wondering whether she’d heard the same exact words before, from the mouth identical to his. “i’d never try to kill no one i hated either. i don’t think most people have that in ‘em.” the ability to just take life. “if one of my loved ones was in danger and it was either the bad guy goes or the person i care for… that’s the only time i would pull the trigger.” he would stop at nothing to protect her because a part of him feels deeply responsible for her, because she’s brought so much joy and meaning to his life, but would he kill his own twin brother if it came to it? he doesn’t even want to think about having to make that choice.

“you’ll always be safe with me, lucy gray.” feeling her warm skin on his, slender fingers keeping his hand in place, billy’s heart expands so impossibly that it’s a wonder his chest doesn’t just burst open. his cheeks rosy. she nuzzles into his palm like an affection-starved cat and something inside him cracks, his own eyes filling with tears. it’s a monumental moment, gaining some of her trust, and he promises to never jeopardize it. he won’t ever betray her. before he can do something stupid like leaning in and bumping their noses together or kissing her forehead, he clears his throat and speaks up, “is the water still warm? want me to boil some more?” the pad of his thumb stroking her skin, ever so carefully and with all the affection he has. 

"alright, i'll trust you with it." he's been so gentle with her hair, so she gives his forearm a pat and believes he'll do the same with her precious mama's dress. how kind of him too... to promise. "alright, mr. hair stylist." a little laugh dances out of her throat, doe eyes watching him get up and go over to the bed. "that's the best part about a covey... the more unique it is, the more special it is." lucy gray points out, sweetly smiling. "well, you ought to be careful there. don't go horse playin' around like that..." creating puns causing her to laugh as she watches him playfully stumble around with his eyes covered. "you're actin' like i showed somethin' already. if you need me to, i can just show you if you need schooled on female anatomy lessons." he clearly isn't the type to take her up on things like that, which is why she's saying it. just to provoke a shy look out of him again.

"no, believe me billy, you're entitled to your own opinion. i don't blame you for not agreein' with me at all. i don't even know if i agree with myself when there were moments coriolanus seemed as nice as you, i think he could have just been fakin' it the entire time. he's great at manipulation. but it sure is a mystery if all he was– was stuck up as a little one. then, all grown up he turned so cruel, selfish and dead on inside. maybe somethin' switched... between a father like that and the loss of your mother, somewhere between there. but it just hurts when someone betrays you. i felt he betrayed me when he lied to me about how many people i asked that he killed, two were valid. but the third... guess i'll never know. he betrayed me pretendin' he was coming along with me to live in the wilderness and the entire time, he was just lookin' out for himself. he betrayed me tryin' to kill me. it's the lord's work to take me outta the world, not him." angrily she spoke, and she truly feels sad for coriolanus and his soul. "he might not been born evil, but he was absolutely born with somethin' rotten. i'd never try to kill no one i hated– let alone cared for."

flinching in the slightest, but her hand comes up to keep his hand in place. she doesn’t want him to remove it. she wants to embrace a kind touch, feel it, as she turns hand over to feel his fingers against her skin. eyes watering, lower lip curving upwards, before affectionately nuzzling into his palm. it makes her deeply emotional. the kind touch, embracing she can’t always be scared of touch, the reassurance, the horrible conversation and ideas that someone she cared for would want to kill her. essentially, twice. because billy taupe nearly sent her to her grave getting involved with mayfair who sent her to the hunger games.

[julieverne]

Jane was happy enough to accept the spare room Maura had offered after she lost the baby. However, she slept with the door closed and never responded to Maura's gentle knocks when she went past on the way to her own bedroom. She stayed out of the common spaces unless someone else was there.

It felt, Maura realised, like being alone. Only worse, since she wasn't. Her best friend was there, hurting, and she wouldn't let Maura in.

Maura knew her well. She could read Jane's guilt like a medical journal.

"I would have paid for an abortion," Maura said, when Angela had left and Jane hadn't quite struggled to her feet. "Somewhere no one knew you."

Jane looked at Maura like she'd struck Jane.

"I - I didn't - I don't -"

"You went in alone. You didn't call anyone."

"I called you! As soon as I could!"

"Not before you went in alone."

Maura watched Jane struggle a little longer, then offered her arm. Jane ignored her.

"It's a mortal sin," Jane hissed. She didn't meet Maura's eyes, just hobbled past her to the kitchen with her plate from dinner.

"Isn't everything, including sex with someone you aren't married to? Someone you didn't want a baby with."

"I didn't want -"

"Hmm?" Maura met Jane's eyes. Jane looked away, washing her hands.

"I wanted the baby. Not his baby, but a baby."

"Then why did you go in alone? Why did you take that risk?"

"I wore my vest."

"You put it on a child then attacked an armed man with a pipe."

Jane shrugged.

"I wanted the baby," Jane said again, her voice low. "And then you met Jack."

Maura's breath caught.

"You were engaged."

"I didn't want to be."

"Then why did you - the ring?"

"It was nice to be asked. I'm not the kind of woman men ask, you know? My job scared them. I scare them. And I was trying not to -"

"Not to what?"

"It's another cardinal sin," Jane said. She rubbed her hands, looking down at the scars. She rubbed the bullet wound on her stomach, then her back. Then she looked up at Maura. "It's a cardinal sin to want you the way I did."

Maura's breath caught again.

"Did?"

"Do," Jane breathed. She slumped, like she'd been holding that in. "But it doesn't matter. They'll forgive me getting pregnant to a man I wasn't married to. They'll forgive me that."

"But not for an abortion?"

Jane's eyes met Maura's.

"Not for loving you."

Maura took a step back; Jane's look was so tortured and raw. It changed to concern. Jane stepped forward, reaching for her, but her hand didn't land on Maura to steady her.

"I guess - I wanted the baby because I thought of it as yours. Because I'm yours, or I was, and then you found Jack and I'm nothing, I'm no one, and that's why I went in alone. I didn't care what happened to me. I cared what happened to Tasha. I didn't even think of the baby, since it was part of me. I'm not as sorry it's gone as I should be, either, because I had been thinking of you as the other parent, and since you have Jack I would have been the single mother of a baby I had with a man I didn't love."

"But you loved me?" Maura had never heard her own voice so low.

Jane nodded slowly.

"I didn't want to," she said, and strong, sturdy, emotionally constipated Jane started crying in Maura's kitchen. She'd saved Maura from Dennis and held her for hours, but when Maura stepped forward Jane stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I wanted that too," Maura said quietly. "The baby, I mean. The baby being ours. When you asked me to take it if anything happened to you -"

"I was too chicken shit to say what I meant."

"You're brave, Jane. You saved Tasha. You've saved me, more than once."

"You're worth it," Jane whispered. She met Maura's eyes. She was hunched forward, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You've always been worth it. And Tash - I wouldn't have wanted her hurt. She's such a good kid."

Maura nodded sadly, eyeing the distance between them. She picked up her phone.

"Jack? I can't do this any more. No, I know you're not a serial killer." She laughed; she'd always enjoyed him. She liked Jack, but she loved Jane. All of her, even the stupidity that had lost her a baby. "You'd still be willing to donate sperm? Yes, you were right. No, I know, you said she has the job in New Mexico. I think it's best - you are lovely." Maura hung up and looked at Jane, who looked nervous and hunted.

"I think it's too soon for you to try again," Maura said. "But if you do want a baby - a baby with me - you're not allowed to work in the field. You're too impulsive. I thought I didn't mind when it was someone else's baby. I can't -" Maura cut herself off. Jane came closer. "I'm not asking you to give up your job - I know how important it is to you. But if you did, you know. The option is there, but the condition is your personal safety."

"You didn't have to do that," Jane whispered. "He was nice. I liked him."

"I didn't love him. Not the way I love you. I want children with you."

"As a friend?"

Maura chuckled and saw something in Jane's entire countenance ease. The tension from pretending to be straight while Catholic, maybe.

"As someone who loves me the way I love you. Sinfully."

"I kept thinking - it can't be a sin. Not if - w-wait, love?"

"Always have, Jane," Maura said, watching emotions chase themselves across Jane's face. Elation, fear, joy, anxiety. "You know I don't believe in God or the church, so if it takes a little longer I don't mind. You're still healing."

"Maybe," Jane swallowed, her eyes wide and bright, "maybe you could kiss it better."

When Maura stepped closer she could almost feel Jane's anxiety as a tactile sensation. It was thrumming between them like a pulse.

"Where does it hurt?" she said, and her voice was husky in a way she'd never heard it. She raised trembling hands to Jane's waist. "You know there's no scientific basis -"

Jane kissed her argument right out of her mouth. And despite the lack of scientific basis for her proposal, Jane somehow managed to kiss it better.

[maretinelli]

CYCLING AROUND LONDON

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

Summary: When Ollie wants to ride a bike in the park with his girlfriend, but she doesn't know how to ride a bike, this makes Ollie the first person to change that.

Words: 2.2K+

Warnings: This is cute from start to finish, Y/n is embarrassed at first because she doesn't know how to ride a bike, but the rest is all sweet.

Author: English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories on my profile or in messages❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Y/n was in the kitchen of Ollie's apartment, focused on organizing the sink counter while the cake was baking in the oven. The sweet smell was already beginning to fill the room. She liked being there, in that space that became a little bit of hers, on vacation, shared with Ollie.

She was distracted when she felt someone approaching.

Leaning against the kitchen doorframe, Ollie watched her. The crossed arms, the messy hair that he hadn't even tried to fix, and that look that always seemed to carry a bit of admiration.

She looked up and laughed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, laughing and drying his hands on the cloth next to him.

"Because you look beautiful like that, all focused." Ollie replied, with a smirk on his face.

"Focused on washing dishes? I think you need new hobbies." Y/n joked, arching an eyebrow.

Ollie laughed and started across the kitchen, stopping beside her. He leaned his hip on the counter and looked into the oven.

"What do you say we go out later? Take a walk in the park?" He suggested, naturally.

Y/n grimaced and looked out the window, watching the cloudy sky and the strong wind hitting the windows.

"It's cold out there, Ollie... I vote we stay here, with hot chocolate and cake. It seems much more sensible."

"Ah, come on, Y/n. Nothing a coat and scarf can't solve. Besides, maybe we'll ride a bike?"

She stopped fiddling with her cutlery and stared at him, hesitant. She mumbled something halfheartedly, enough for Ollie to realize something was off. He tilted his head and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Ollie asked, his voice gentle and curious.

"Nothing, it's nothing." Y/n looked away, visibly uncomfortable.

"Hey..." Ollie took a step closer, lightly touching her arm. "Talk to me."

She sighed, biting her lower lip, and finally looked at him, trying to hide her embarrassment with a shy smile.

"I don't know how to ride a bike... Okay? I know, I know... almost 20 years and nothing. Tragic." He said, in a sarcastic tone that made Ollie laugh.

"But what about that day at the park with my family?"

"I didn't ride, remember? You and your brothers rode your bikes and I stayed with your mother talking because I wasn't feeling very well.' That was my excuse. But really, I just... I never learned."

Ollie laughed again, but this time tenderly, his eyes shining with the unexpected revelation. He touched her face, holding it in his warm hands.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. And you don't have to be ashamed, love."

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to contain a smile.

"My dad tried to teach me when I was a kid. About three times. But after I fell every time, he kind of gave up."

"Then today is the perfect day for you to learn." Ollie declared confidently, his eyes shining with excitement. "I'll teach you, Y/n."

She raised her eyebrows, laughing.

"Confident, aren't you?"

"Confident and determined." He held her hands, smiling widely. "I promise you won't get hurt. And if you fall, I'll catch you."

Y/n finally gave in, smirking.

"All good!..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Ollie pulled her into a tight hug, placing light kisses on her face. Y/n tried to pull away, laughing loudly.

"Stop! You're insufferable!" She laughs, trapped in the pilot's arms.

"Insufferable and the best teacher you'll ever have." He teased, laughing along.

Y/n turned her attention back to the kitchen, finishing organizing the countertop while Ollie, beside her, carefully took the cake out of the oven.

While she cleaned up the last spills and put away the utensils, Ollie began to put away some things, not missing the chance to steal a glance at her, clearly still excited about the idea.

After everything was ready, he casually leaned against the counter and suggested that she go and choose some comfortable and warm clothes for the weather outside. Y/n nodded with a small smile and left for the bedroom.

And with that, Ollie began searching for the two bikes stored in the corner of the apartment's small storage room. He adjusted the chains and checked the tires, making sure everything was in order.

Ollie’s excitement was evident as they pulled into the parking lot. He loaded the bikes with ease and positioned them on the rack of the car, the wide smile never leaving his face.

Y/n, next to him, just watched, leaning against the side of the car, hugging her coat. She smiled, amused, as she saw him practically radiate energy.

All the way to the park, Ollie makes lively and funny comments about how now they could be those couples who wake up early to ride their bikes in the park. Y/n laughs at every word he says.

And when they arrived at the park, the couple noticed that the wind was much stronger and colder than the one that hit the windows of Ollie's apartment. But that didn't make the pilot give up on his mission.

Ollie led Y/n to a far corner, where a grassy area stretched uninterrupted. It was a quiet place, away from the eyes of people.

While he carefully placed his bike on the ground, he positioned his girlfriend's bike to start teaching Y/n how to pedal.

And as Ollie made sure everything was normal, Y/n couldn't help but smile as she watched him. The attention he put into details and the patience he demonstrated made her feel less tense.

"It's all set, princess!" He says, adjusting the scarf that was falling from his neck, while holding the bike for his girlfriend.

Y/n looked at the bike as if it were a monumental challenge. She could feel her hands starting to sweat, even with the cold weather, and her shoulders were a little tense.

Ollie, still holding the bike tightly, noticed her nervousness and gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, love, take your time. I'm here," he said, his voice soft as an anchor to her anxiety.

She sighed and placed her hands on the handlebars, hesitating for a moment before looking at Ollie with a semi-serious expression.

"Okay, the only thing I know about riding a bike is that these are the brakes..." She pointed to the levers with one finger. "...and these are the pedals." With her foot, she indicated the pedals with a light touch, as if she were pointing out something obvious.

Ollie let out a hearty laugh and tilted his head to the side, clearly amused by the comment.

"Well, that's an excellent start!" He replied, still laughing.

"Now all that's left is everything else." Y/n muttered, grimacing as she looked at the bike seat.

Ollie laughed again, but this time he moved a little closer, adjusting the bike to make it easier for her to climb on. He lightly touched the side of her waist, encouraging her.

"No pressure, princess. Get up there. I promise I won't let go."

Y/n took a deep breath and finally placed herself on the seat, her hands firmly on the handlebars and one of her feet hovering above the pedals, hesitantly. Ollie kept his hands secure on the handlebars and back of the bike, supporting all of her weight while her balance was still a mystery.

"See? It's going well." He said, his voice calm, leaning in a little to maintain eye contact with her.

"Well? Ollie, I still have one foot on the ground, supporting myself!" She protested, but a laugh escaped as she glared at him.

He smiled even wider, his face lit up with his patience and excitement.

"Trust me. I've got you covered. We'll do this in our own time," Ollie said, his voice low and sure.

Y/n took another deep breath, casting a quick glance at Ollie before finally placing both feet on the pedals. As soon as she tried to take her first pedal stroke, her balance disappeared almost instantly, and she lurched to the side.

A small cry of surprise escaped, but Ollie's firm hands quickly grabbed the bike, keeping it upright.

"Calm down, calm down, I'm here," he said with a calm smile, holding the bike firmly.

She let out the breath she was holding, still nervous, but gave a light laugh, realizing he really wasn't going to let her fall.

As the afternoon wore on, Y/n began to get the hang of it, albeit hesitantly. At first, Ollie just held on to the bike, steering it and adjusting her balance as she pedaled slowly. But over time, she grew more confident.

With each attempt, her feet found the pedals more easily, and she was able to pedal a few times without Ollie's full support.

Balance was still a struggle, and steering control made it zigzag a lot, but the small improvements were noticeable.

Ollie watched it all with a mixture of pride and amusement, silently cheering on her every new achievement.

Of course, the falls still happened. The grass served as a soft carpet for the inevitable tumbles, but Y/n got up every time laughing and renewed with determination.

After a series of attempts, Y/n managed to pedal a few meters without needing Ollie to hold the seat, which made her visibly excited.

But, on a more awkward turn, she lost control and tried to correct herself abruptly, only to end up leaning to the side. Ollie, who was right behind her, instinctively tried to hold her, but ended up being pulled along.

The couple fell onto the icy grass in a tangle of laughter and arms, not caring about the cold or the moisture that was starting to stick to their clothes. Y/n laughed out loud, her face resting on Ollie's chest, while he did the same, his hair already messy and dirty with grass.

"You're doing great, you know?" Ollie said with a chuckle, his voice slightly breathless. "Falling down is part of the process."

Y/n raised her head, still laughing, and lightly slapped his chest, trying to feign indignation.

"Part of the process? You suck at motivation."

Ollie laughed again before standing up, extending his hand to her with a wide smile.

"Come on, princess. One more time. You're almost there."

She took his hand, still smiling, and let him pull her back to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, not just from the cold, but from the good feeling of having someone like him by her side. patient, funny, and completely confident of success.

Y/n climbed onto her bike once more, determined to keep trying. Ollie was right behind her, holding tightly to the back of the seat, balancing her with ease as she began to pedal.

"That's it, love, keep it up. You're doing great," he said, with an encouraging tone that made her smile, even though she was nervous.

With each new pedal stroke, Y/n felt more confident. She looked ahead, focused on the path, while Ollie continued beside her, holding the bike carefully.

But then something changed. Ollie realized she was keeping her balance on her own. Slowly, with a satisfied smile on his lips, he let go of the bike, without saying anything.

Standing on the grass, he watched as Yin rode her bike on her own for the first time. His proud smile grew bigger by the second, watching her ride forward with more confidence than he could have imagined. Her hair blew in the wind, and she looked so light, so free.

Y/n, still without realizing it, continued pedaling, increasingly stable. When he realized he was doing well, he smiled widely and shouted.

"Ollie! I'm doing it!"

She waited for his answer, but heard nothing. Confused, she shouted again, turning her head slightly.

"Ollie? OLIVER!!"

That's when she heard the sound of his laughter, coming from far away. Y/n turned the bike slightly, making a turn, and saw Ollie standing where she had started, with his hands in his coat pockets and the proudest smile she had ever seen from her boyfriend.

He was standing there the whole time, watching her, not holding the bike for several meters.

Y/n stopped abruptly, still in disbelief, placing her feet on the ground and leaning her bike against a nearby tree. Without thinking twice, she ran towards him, laughing loudly, her heart filled with happiness.

Ollie opened his arms, ready to welcome her, and wrapped her in a warm hug when she finally arrived. He spun her around slightly, still laughing, before whispering against her hair.

"I'm so proud of you, honey. You did it."

Y/n, still laughing, hugged him tighter, feeling his heart beating against hers.

"That was amazing," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"YOU are amazing," Ollie replied, leaning his forehead against hers and leaving a lingering kiss on the top of her head.

They stood there, hugging each other, ignoring the cold and the wind, just enjoying that moment.

It was a simple victory, but full of meaning, and they knew that day would be marked in their memories as one of the best.

[helluvabossrewrite45]

I never fully agree with argument that “Via is sheltered”. I can see if she didn’t fully understand how bad the marriage, but then I remember that she responds to her Mother’s violent outbursts as if they were a usual occurrence. She casually steps over the broken vases like she’s done it before; she has a tendency control her own outbursts in a more restrained manner as seen in Seeing Stars and now in Sinmas. To me it implies she’s half aware that her mother does is wrong, but then have some fans—not all—claim that she likes Stella more even though everything in her body language says otherwise. The only reason she finds it easier to get mad at her Dad is like you once said about it being the black sheep method.

I feel honestly bad for this kid. At best she thinks that behaviour in this family is normal. At worst she just feels alone in a situation she on some level knows is messed up. Like she believed or knows that her Dad cares about her, but when it feels like it’s needed most he isn’t there to at least ease her into this transition. I was slightly forgiving at Looloo Land because I thought he was going to tell her in the future. Seeing Stars made me frustrated because why are we standing around in a studio? Because Blitz gets trick into thinking people finally find him funny? To then cutting to his backstory on how adopted Loona? What about the main mission? A small portion of fans thinks she doesn’t change when the writing itself keeps running through the same arc until the consequences finally catch up with the characters. No, let’s blame some characters instead of how the writing likes to use the characters and their growth.

Honestly, the more of the list of Octavia and her coping mechnasms works, the more fascinating she is. She uses music to cope, like you said, but now we’ve seen her escape her family members sights twice now which is interesting. Still would like to know how she knows IMPs address unless she went there during Looloo Land? Also where’s the castle security or a they just on call?

Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense. Sinmas got under my skin and a small portion of fans blaming a teenager is irritating.

It's okay, I understand what your saying and yeah, fans blaming on her is irritating especially when she's a teenager and her father, Stolas, has done much worse (coercion to Blitzo, neglect to Octavia), yet they don't give him the same blame or frame him as a good father with the "oh if only Via realises how he cares for her" which misunderstands why Via even cutted out Stolas to begin with. He prioritised Blitzo over her from Loo loo land to Mastermind where he almost sacrificed himself for Blitzo and only considers Via once his powers get stripped temporarily (Stolas' sacrifice also feels quite icky from it being Blitzo's reason to 'love' Stolas as if sacrifice makes it obligatory for affection) Your insight into how the environment around her causes her to normalise it or feel isolated by it is spot on. When rewatching Loo loo land, I liked that Stolas couldn't easily explain Stella's abuse to her because it felt realistic for an abused parent trying to explain to their kid of how their other parent is abusive, especially when circumstances lead it to becoming more complicated like cheating. This kind of realistic depiction of abuse is unfortunately erased overtime as the show prioritises us on hating stella by making her a one note over-the-top villain instead of depicting an abusive complex villain. You get a good scene of Stella comforting Octavia as a false pretense for her satisfaction in her presumed ex-husband's death, presenting her manipulation. Yet in Sinmas, she is shown to openly cut Octavia from contacting her father and openly laugh and mock him with her brother. The show cannot decide on how to portray Stella, so long as she is framed as unlikeable in every scene shes in for us to sympathise and root for Stolas.

In fact, I argue that due to Stella and Octavia not receiving any depth compared to Stolas as characters despite the plot giving this family's conflict at least some significance is that they aren't their own characters but prompts; prompts that are for Stolas' gains through different lights. Stella was a prompt to make us sympathies with Stolas that would make us excuse his wrongdoings such as cheating because well, Stella is an abuser and she is constantly unlikeable in every scene. Why should we feel bad for her? Stella is apparently meant to be inspired by Beatrice but these characters direction were the main difference. Beatrice was given backstory and depth because she was intended to be a complex character who is abusive. Stella on the other hand, is a prompt whose abusiveness was used to benefit Stolas' character within the narrative.

Octavia is different where she was a prompt to make Stolas likeable. Everytime Octavia is on screen with some significance to the plot, it always involved her problem being primarily her father and the narrative always focused that Stolas loves Via very much, even explicitly pointed out to her in Seeing Stars like Loona. It's only in Sinmas where this direction has shifted to be the same as Stella where she's now used to make us feel sympathy towards Stolas in the loss of his daughter. Frankly her blaming stolas for taking anti-depressants seem like a tactic of some sort to establish what the framwork is suppose to be; Via isn't understandably cutting off her dad for his neglect because it would make the sympathetic framework of stolas not be effective, so they had to use his anti-depressants in order to make Via cutting off her dad seem unreasonable on surface level. "See? Via is blaming stolas for his depression so she's not entirely right in her cutting him out of her life and therefore, you should feel bad for stolas." It's what these fans don't understand, they only look at the conflict through surface level and not view the bigger picture as despite the anti depressants, Via was reasonable in that situation. Stolas had neglected Via, like you pointed out with him in the film studio, his focus is always on Blitzo first and Octavia second. And what makes it more awful is that Via's experiences applies to many people in real life so for the fandom to demonise her entirely for this when you know people who were Octavia with their fathers before makes you think of it in a different light. A more tragic perspective of a fandom, regardless of intention, demonises those people who were like and related to Octavia in that situation while coddling/sympathizing with the fathers that neglected their Octavias.

Her lack of depth despite the little details as well as her background being the tools to create an interesting thorough character highlights the main issue of the series in how despite desiring to be complex within their characters and conflicts, they manage to fail with their character bias for and against certain characters that reduces their complexities to either make you like or dislike these particular characters. Octavia, like the rest of the characters, had potential yet the writers never utilized that to their advantage. The whole series in general is wasted potential that wasn't properly utilized to their advantage.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 36

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.8k

A/N: This is part 2 of my double update. Here is part 1. This is our 2nd to last chapter my loves. Tell me how you feel!

The sky is dark. Javier has spent three and a half hours negotiating and haggling. He was not going to give up on this place but he was not going to pay six hundred dollars for two nights. Ultimately the women caved and offered him a room for four hundred dollars only if he checked in after ten pm. Apparently some hotshot frequented the place and was giving it up for a day but they were very loose on check out time with the man so he picked up a nasty habit of leaving late each of his stays. The poor lady figured he wouldn’t accept because it seemed like a day wasted but Javier jumped at the opportunity. 

  His conversation with his father lasted for only ten more minutes before he hugged him and shoe’d him out of the room.

 He arrives at Melissa Diaz’s home at 7:15 pm. You're at the door with your belongings. A smile isn’t on your face the way his is, your eyes are dark and you barely get hello out. Your mother and Frankie wave you off while Javi loads the car. The weight of his coat pocket feels heavier. 

The two of you are on the road at 7:20. He looks over at you, taking note of your uncharacteristic quietness. Javier’s eyes scan your casual outfit of jeans and a blue t-shirt, he thinks you look lovely. You always do. He can tell you haven’t slept much, still he wonders how he got so lucky. But not even his desire for you can outweigh his discomfort at the state of you– the circumstance. 

When Javier received your call asking to be picked up from your mothers home instead of the hotel he hadn’t really thought twice. It’s the holidays, it’s only normal. Javier hadn’t batted an eye at the request but given your brief hello and silence he wondered– “Is everything all right?” Your body entirely turned away from him like an angry child. 

Your eyes part from the window and lock with his for a moment before he has to look back onto the road. “Yeah. Why?” It’s blunt and a bit cold and Javier wonders if he’s done something wrong. 

He clears his throat, looks at his rearview mirror at a Subaru riding his ass and fights the urge to scoff at the asshole behind him. “Uh–” He uses his signal and switches lanes. “Just because you were at your moms house and you’re kind of quiet.” And you reek of wine, which is fine but all things considered, Javier is worried. He can’t see your change in face but he feels it. You face the window again.

“Me and mom are making things work out. She apologized to me, I didn’t really accept it but y’know I'm giving it a try.” It’s mumbled, and Javier frowns for a moment.

 He thinks of the comments he’s heard. He remembers bringing you food on holidays, he held you while you cried speaking of her. His protective bone is alert when it comes to you, and even if it’s an over step he can’t help himself from being skeptical. “That’s good—great actually. How do you feel about it.”

“Good.”

Javier resists the urge to chuckle, you’ve got quite the mood going. “Are you sure? She hurt you quite a bit—”

“Good lord.” You cut him off and shift farther away from him and his heart clenches. You murmur something under your breath and it makes him a little mad. His cheeks heat and he’s officially out of Laredo now. 

“What Andrea?”

“What?”

He exhales, a bit frustrated. “What did you say under your breath?” You pivot your body toward him the best you can and your eyes are wild. Javier figures that maybe this has to do with more than your mother.

 “Sometimes it feels like you want me to be a mess. That’s what I said.” You snap. 

His chin quivers in confusion, hurt. He does his best to look at you then at the road. It hurts him in a spot untouched. You’ve argued, sure, but what's always been clear to each other was your intentions. Or so he thought. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be okay. Although it comes to him as a slap to the face he decides it can’t be what you really mean. Still, he barely can make any words out in his disbelief, you continue, “I just told you that I’m actually getting along with my mother and the first thing you do is question if that’s good for me?!”

You’re nearly yelling and he realizes this is what we’re doing. Arguing, starting off their New Year just right.

Javier brings his free hand to his jaw, scratching the stubble there. He clears his throat again, “That’s a fucked up thing say and I don’t think you truly mean it. Forgive me then for trying to look out for you. Let’s be done with this now, we’ve got five hours on the road. I rather not waste it arguing.” Javier dismisses. Because no, they weren’t going to be this couple. The one arguing the entire trip. The couple being hurtful to each other for no reason. He glances over at you again and your face is hot. 

“No—no. We’re going to talk.” 

“Talk sure, go ahead Andrea—where is this coming from? What happened at your moms house?”

“Nothing Javi. Nothing happened, it was good. I had a good time and it’s working for me. Are you okay with that?” It’s mocking, your tongue is molten with anger. He’s really wondering what he’s done wrong. He’s been trying really hard.

“Of course and despite whatever spiral you’re obviously going down none of that’s true. I don’t fucking want you to be a mess. I never saw you as a mess, you’re talking to me like I’m some creep you just met that wants to fix you, all I ever wanted was to be with you.” It’s jumbled and heated and he can’t believe he’s saying this right now, ten minutes into your drive. He can’t believe he has to say this, “I thought you knew that.” The second part is whispered and now you’re at a stop light. He looks at you now, you’re facing forward, cheeks stained and lips red from whatever you’ve consumed at your mothers house. He hates it when you cry, he truly does it hurts him bone deep. 

The silence is pregnant and he hopes the light never changes. But it does and he’s back looking out at the stretching roads ahead.

“We shouldn’t sleep together tonight. Just be friends while we’re in Houston.” Your voice is shaking, you're trying not to let your tears get in the way of your speech. Javier feels like he’s in an alternate universe. He stays silent not only because he has nothing to say but because it’s given him whiplash. Like a knife digging into his ribs with a pop. 

We laid on my bed twenty-four hours ago and spoke of a good time together. Did I misread you? My mouth on your cunt hadn’t felt friendly. 

Then it settled in his chest with a light of anger. He debates for a few minutes, he hears you sniffle and he wonders if it’s worth it. But he must speak his mind or it’ll be another six years of these games. 

“I feel a bit tugged around by you.” His nostrils flare, the two of you haven’t argued, not like this. He has experience in these sorts of things, the more time they spend in silence, the bigger the blowup. 

“H-how?” It’s said in a way that wants to be curiosity but is laden with discomfort. 

“I—Andrea. The first night we saw each other I fucked up. I made it seem like I was out living this life of happiness and pleasure when I was really just self destructing trying to cure my loneliness. And—you made your rules—our rules. I wanted to follow them, I wanted to prove— fuck I want to prove to you that I’m ready, that i’m working on myself. And you changed them on me, and I still didn’t—don’t care that you did-” He exhales, knuckles white against the steering wheel. His thumbs flex and unflex. “Well I do care because I want to kiss you and I want to fuck you. I do want to call you pretty in front of your family. I want to spend too many unhealthy hours together, and I want to take you out on dates but I know that we’ve got to take it slow. But then you strip naked in my bedroom or climb in my lap and lay with me and then you tell me we should go back to being friends. It just isn’t fair.” 

His voice is steady yet his heart is racing, slamming against his ribcage and he still has four and a half hours left on the road. He looks over at you for a moment, and your face has gone pale. 

You’re biting at your lips, and avoiding his eyes. “I’m just trying my hardest to protect myself.” You whisper. 

Javier’s brows crumpled, “From me?” He waits with bated breath. Afraid of the answer and it seems like you are too. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What are we doing then?”

“I don’t fucking know Javi!” You shout and he really can’t believe you’re doing this right now. 

“Well you knew a lot five minutes ago when you accused me of trying to keep you a mess, so please tell me what you meant by that?” His hand is flailing, and he’s trying his best not to raise his voice at you. He’s not that sort of man. 

Something has gotten you riled up, “You—you know my father left me, you know what it did to me and you always leave me—because you know that when you come back I'll have no choice but to fall at your feet. You always keep me at arms length. You keep me burning for you.” 

Those were the words of Lorraine, not you. Not you.

You’re stuttering because you can’t believe your own words.

It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit. You can’t mean any of it, he knows you can’t. It isn’t based in reality, it isn’t the way any of this went down. Yet it hits him in that deep space of insecurity, where he feared. When he would wonder if he was only adding to your damage, if his mistake is making him into his mother and in turn, your father. 

“I left you once. Ten years ago, I tried my hardest to make that up to you but you left me too.” He keeps his voice steady, he feels desperate. You weren’t the only person hurt.

“You didn’t want to see me— then we don’t talk and I come back here and we fall so easily into this cycle of hooking up and being sweet and—fuck.” You shout, “It doesn’t fucking matter we just hurt each other too much.” 

Javier lets it stay silent, he wants to reach over and wipe your tears away with the rough pad of his thumb. It’s a sort of quiet that lasts too long, long enough for him to think of his future. Scraping snow off a windshield, cooking in a kitchen that is yours— ours. He sees you bitten by the cold air of New York City, he sees himself placing his warm hands on your cheek when you’ve come home from work. You’d lean against his palm and kiss him, you’d have dinner together. He’ll bother you about how badly he wants a baby, you’ll wave him off. Then you’ll sleep in bed together, he’ll work the next day. You’ll both come home around the same time, exhausted still you’ll take off your socks and dance around the kitchen with him. Then you’ll tell him you want a baby too. He would write in his journal about it, about his fears but none of it will include you. You’ll kiss him, a real kiss, every day before work. You’d argue over stupid shit, then apologize and work through it. You’ll be married by July. And neither of you will ever need to want anything else, anything more.

“So do we stop trying?” Please say no, he begs. We can fix this. 

“Maybe.” You reply.

I don’t know why I can’t stop hurting myself, You think. I know that none of this is me, I know I’m afraid. Anger is the easiest emotion to release. 

Before you left, your mother tells you not to rebel against what you’ve wanted just because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Maybe you’ll do it yourself and save yourself from this feeling of trepidation. 

You don’t talk the entire car ride. The road is dark and you rarely pass through a town, just some homes scattered, small cities and the sound of a truck so old you can’t believe it’s running. You spend the first hour of silence looking out the window, regretting every word out of your mouth. You spend another twenty minutes wondering if he’d accept you if you just apologized right then. If you told him that you’ve never been so afraid, that you’re self destructing. You weren’t yourself, you’ve never yelled at him before. You cry 3 hours after the fight, quietly.

 Despite the way you’ve acted when he inevitably hears you he doesn’t hesitate to place his cold calloused hand at the back of your neck. His thumb rubs at the top of your spine. You lean into the touch, and wonder what you’ve done to deserve him.  You sit farthest away from him, your body angry at him and your heart wanting to reach over. His fingers stretch into your scalp, you turn to look over at him and the sight is awful.

You get the breathtaking view of the side of his face, your favorite part of him. His strong brow bone, the strong arch of his nose and the soft curve of his lips. His eyes are wet and his cheeks are stained too.

You turn your head back toward the window. You try your hardest not to make any noise when you cry much fiercer than you have before. What have we done to each other? Why did I do this, I didn’t mean any of it. 

He eventually moves his hand and settles on the gear after he wipes his cheeks furiously. 

He pulls into the drive-thru of a 24 hour Dairy Queen. It’s the first time you've spoken in nearly four hours, “I’m not hungry.” You murmur, and he lets out a sigh.

 He still orders you food, and you lick your fingers and share a coke, music plays to fill the silence. You eat the pickles off his burger, he doesn’t ask, he just opens his sandwich for you and you pick them out to eat. It’s like when you were kids and he’d open his McDouble and you’d shift a few feet backwards and he’d throw the pickles into your mouth. In turn you offered him your ice cream and he dipped his fries in your vanilla sundae. 

When all is done you ask, “How much do I owe you?” Wiping crumbs off your lap. Javier coughs into his fist and narrows his eyes. Face laced with such disgust as he turns the truck back on.

Once the evening lights of Houston illuminated the car the dread ensued. You prayed you’d be so tired that once you reached the room you’d crash and feel everything tomorrow but as he pulls into the strip of hotels and clubs you feel like a live wire. Ready to burst into flames. 

Yesterday you had those thoughts, those baseless fears. Everything's coming together, you are moving on from your father. You are relearning your mother. Your brother accepts you for all that you are. 

Then there's Javi, so willing, and open for you. So you punish yourself, you tell yourself you can't have it all. Your twisted brain tells you that maybe he won’t want you when you’re a whole person. Those were the rotten thoughts that plagued you while you were alone on a mattress that wasn’t your own. Having thoughts that don’t feel your own. 

He parks in a parking structure attached to an extravagant building, The Auditorium Hotel. Your brows furrow and it comes back to you. When you were eleven your mother took you and Frankie to Houston for the weekend. You remembered this trip clearly– simply because your hair was braided in two french braids that your taxi driver called chic, which made you grin hard. You remembered passing this building, on the corner of Texas Avenue, four blocks from the dingy place your mother rented. She placed a hand on your shoulder, it was a rare touch from her and she leaned over, Rita Moreno stays here sometimes, she whispered to you. Your child heart fluttered, you had completely worn out your mothers copy of West Side Story by age nine. It was a delightful moment, one you couldn’t hold close because the bad outweigh those small moments with your mother. 

You wished to stay there, like a celebrity. Like Rita Moreno.

You had a small clipping of the hotel from the paper on your mirror for years. The mirror that had pictures of Rita, Madonna, Hepburn, Stevie Nicks, your lacrosse team, The University of Miami, wedding venues from your mothers Bridal Guide magazine and in that top corner The Auditorium in Houston.

An afterthought by the end of your adolescence, yet still a tiny dream of yours never expressed to anyone. Of course, Javier paid attention. He’d been in your room hundreds of times, passed your mirror many times and sometimes he’d just look at the pictures around it. 

It was so like him to make every moment special for you. He held your bags and spoke to the desk worker while you basked in the reality that you were really here. Foreboding being sad in such a beautiful place. Guilt rising to the tongue at the thought of Javier being excited to take you here just to dimmed by your outburst. You looked up around you, basking in the chandeliers and the beautiful ceiling design, eyes panning to the signature velvet carpeted stairs. You had a picture of Rita Moreno on those stairs. You turn to look at him while he converses with the woman at the desk, she laughs at a comment he makes and he smiles, it causes your heart to skip a beat. The  prospect of someone making him smile when it’s been long since he has. A bellhop grabs your bags from his side and Javier smiles at him as well. 

You observe the expanse of him while he slides his card to the attendant. It’s the first time you've gotten a full look at him today, he’s wearing that brown worn jacket you love and his favorite pair of dark blue jeans. He looks so handsome, it stirs the dread in your belly. 

He gives a parting smile to the woman and catches you staring with a pressed lip smile. Holding up a key, he says nothing and beckons you with his head to follow. You do so, in a daze, a haze of loving him so dearly and wondering how to fix this. You can't help but to feel like you’ve really spoiled it all when your elevator ride isn’t filled with kisses and close proximity but a clenched jaw and a frown. Once your shoes are on the lush carpeted hallways you begin to remind yourself of all things that you loved that seemed unimportant to everyone but him. You found it jarring the way truly listens when you speak, you find it heartbreaking the way he tries to learn you without asking. The way he pays attention to things unspoken. 

The room is 507, when he turns the key you’re brought to a brightness you weren’t prepared for. The room is far more beautiful than you could have dreamt. 

First of all, it’s a suite. You approach a living space with sage green walls and beautiful grey couches, a breakfast nook with a window facing the city. Your breath is caught in your throat, your bags are placed delicately in a corner.

 A bottle of champagne placed over ice in a silver bucket at the dinner table. Standing still in the middle of the living room, he walks past you, placing his duffle bag on the table and unpacking a few items. 

“I'm going to get ready for bed.” He murmurs before walking past you to shut the bathroom door. It’s nearly a slam and you’re on the verge of collapsing.

 You felt as if you were on the cusp of sobbing the entire night away, so you hurried to grab your things for bed. Hoping to be tucked away, so he couldn’t see. You undress in the living room, pulling a t-shirt and sleep shorts on in a rush. You’ve been avoidant before, but you fear you're reaching new levels. Your hands shake as you fold your clothes and place them right back in your bag. You hear the faucet and him coughing, once you walk into the arch leading into the bedroom your stomach flips at the sight of two beds. 

You had no choice but to hide from him, to cry into your pillow while he stared at the ceiling. I do want to try, I don’t know what's gotten into me. 

With a heavy heart you unravel the blankets and settle into bed. Your head pounds and you know you’ve ruined it all. You can’t cry, no, not until he falls asleep. 

Out of the corner of your eye he comes out of the bathroom, he looks at you for a moment. As his gaze roves over your form, under those layers, you watch his eyes look pained. Shortly afterward he gets into his bed. 

 You shut your eyes but your heart is beating in your ears. You feel warm all over, the wine left your system hours ago so this was new. A sense of panic. 

How could it be, that when it's all said and done it was me who got in my own way?

Your chin quivers and it starts off silent because you remember the feeling of sleeping next to him when you were kids. Many feet away, turning over your shoulder to see if he’s fallen asleep yet just to see that he was awake staring at your back. You’d blush and he’d make a face. Then you remember yesterday, your head leaning on his shoulder while your feet touched his low slanting ceiling. How he ran a hand up your calf and made you cackle so hard your legs dropped. You banged your ankle a bit. Beyond his laughter he crawled to your ankle to give it a kiss. You pictured– no you felt– the panic you subjected to yourself when you realized that maybe this will all work out. 

A panic based on nothing but the fear of finally being happy. Then you pictured his face, with tears down his cheeks after you pulled the rug out from under him. After he planned all this, after he fought tooth and nail just to have you– and not even that you’ll give him.

You let out an awful sound, no longer silent. Your shoulders shaking, you cover your mouth with your palm. Everyone knew the way you cried, that sort of tear wiping sob that truly felt embarrassing to still do at this age. Never, no matter the argument or how fed up with each you had been. There was never a moment where the two of you were avoiding each other in the same room. Tears stain your pillow, pooling and irritating the skin at the corner of your eyes. It reminds you of the nights you spent after the wedding, those first few months in New Orleans when you just wished he was there. 

And now he is, and you’ve ruined it all. 

“Andrea, could you please just come to bed?” It comes out as a rasp and your heart sinks at the sound. You blink a few times, wondering if you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t move and he speaks again, “I know you're angry at me but just come lay with me.”

Your heart flutters. Sitting up your hair falls to your shoulders and you look at him through the dark. He’s looking over at you from his empty bed and you can make out the crease in his brow. 

You stare at him for a few seconds longer before it begins, the string of words. “I–I’m so sorry, I don’t want to fight with you– I didn’t mean any of it.” You cry, “I don’t know what's gotten into me. I just got in my head–” He’s at his feet with the soft creak of the bed and he’s got you, his hand in your hair while you wrap tightly against his stomach. You wet his shirt the way you did the day he left you, “I ruined-”

“You didn’t, I know you—I know you Andrea. Just come to bed.” His hand runs from your hair down to your back, like he’s ready to gather you in his big hands himself. You move with him and he takes you by the hand, onto his bed. “Please don’t cry anymore, querida.” He whispers while he lifts the sheets to let you in. He follows suit and immediately pulls your body into his.

You disobey his request because you can’t help it, because it’s so like him to give you another chance. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck while he engulfs you in his strong arms, you feel a light kiss at your crown. 

“I’ve always known what I want.” You admit. You feel him shift against your body, his hands abandon your waist and come to cradle your jaw, he takes a good look at you with a creased brow and red eyes. “I’m scared now that I’m getting it. I’m sorry I hurt you, you aren’t like my father. And I know you want what's best for me. I fucking ruined this trip” The last part comes with a defeated laugh, it’s late and your head is spinning.

His lips twitch in a frown, “You didn’t ruin anything. It hasn’t even started yet.” Javier’s thumb brushes away a tear of yours. “For what it's worth I didn’t believe anything you said–besides– the part where you said that maybe we should stop trying.” He says it reluctantly, he’s just as scared as you.

“I didn’t mean it,” You rush, “And you’re right, I’ve been a mess since I first saw you on Christmas eve. I keep making these rules I can't seem to follow. It must have been confusing for you.” You knew, somewhere inside that these rules weren't attempts to protect yourself but attempts to get in the way of what you really want. 

He looks relieved, “We’ll just be us then, we’ll be careful but we can be us. We’ll figure it out in the New Year?” You nod, your migraine slowly fades every moment you look into his eyes. “I want to have a good time, I want to show you around where I stayed back then.” You brighten up a bit,

“That sounds lovely,” Exhale, you take in for a moment the way it feels to be held by him.

I’d bleed for anyone if they only held me the right way. No, you think, not anyone. Just you. 

“This place–”

“I fought that woman at the front desk for hours for this room.” His mustache is a bit overgrown, it bleeds into his smile in a way that is endearing beyond belief. 

“I would have been happy anywhere.”

“I did it for you. I do everything for you, I don’t care if that scares you.” He’s unapologetic. You can't help but grin. 

“I never told you about this place.” You look down at his chest, you place a hand there. 

“You didn’t have to. I passed by that picture for years. I passed by this hotel on my way to work for even longer, I thought of you everytime.”

“I didn’t really know anyone ever noticed that sort of stuff.”

“I do.” He admits and he keeps it at that. You bask in those words and he allows you. You move farther into his chest, all you could smell is him. You wish there was a way to be closer. Be smothered, will have to do.

He whispers something you can’t quite catch. Falling asleep is easier than it’s ever been. 

Just the two of you burning.