#and then spent the rest of the week and most of the weekend numb

[i-think-its-catchy]

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Go in Shadows

Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, referenced drug use, angst, eventual smut. Word count: ~8.5k

Summary: Summers spent with her best friend, Helaena, are the highlight of her year. However, a week-long stay at her place does not go as she expects it to when surrounded by one Targaryen brother that she pines for unrequitedly, and another that can't seem to stand her.

Author's note: For @lauraneedstochill. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The grass tickles delicately at the backs of her bare thighs, causing her to squirm and change position, pulling the hem of her floral summer dress lower as she crosses her legs. It’s a hot and sunny Friday afternoon in July, and she’s making the most of her four day working week by spending her day off in the park with her best friend, Helaena.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, from the six week long holidays of secondary school to the three month university breaks, and now the stolen afternoons and all too brief weekends of the working week. Helaena has been at her side for all of them. Summer is their time, a season in which their friendship has always thrived, fortified beneath a sun that never sets.

Helaena pauses, keeping the daisy chain she’s making in her hands still as she leans forward ever so slightly, watching intently at the wasp that buzzes around the open bottle neck of Koppaberg Cider that rests beside her, the heat of the day causing droplets of moisture to sweat from the glass.

“That’s going to drown in your cider, if you aren’t careful,” she warns her.

“Mmm,” Helaena muses dreamily, her eyes never leaving the wasp. “It wants the sugar.”

She watches for a few more moments, before it flies away, and then her attention turns back to her daisy chain, her numb nail piercing through the stem of the flower, before threading another through.

“Did your annual leave get approved for next week?” Helaena asks, blue eyes lifting from the floral chain in her hands to look at her hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she says excitedly, before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the way the sweet, berry flavour fizzes against her tongue. “So, what’s the plan?”

It’s not a question she really even needs to ask. It’s the same every year; Alicent takes a week-long trip to Oldtown to visit her father, Otto, and ever since Helaena was considered old enough to no longer accompany her, she stays behind, and the kids are left with a free house. She stays for the entire week, the house large enough that it feels like a holiday without needing to leave King’s Landing. They enjoy seven unsupervised days of swimming in the pool, raiding the fridge, and the inevitable rowdy and out of control parties that Helaena’s older brother, Aegon, insists upon throwing.

And therein lies the real reason she’s asking; to check which of the brothers will be in attendance. She has fancied Aegon for as long as she can remember, though he has never given her a second look beyond viewing her as his younger sister’s best friend. She exists in his shadow, laughing at all of his jokes, living for every thousand watt smile he casts her way, overlooking his often drunken, reckless behaviour, and pretending she doesn’t feel a burning sense of envy at the seemingly never ending rotation of girls he goes out with. His shadow seems to be where she is destined to remain forever, desperate to experience the warmth of his attention turned to her even once. The unrequited feelings weigh heavy upon her heart, tormenting her with soaring hope and devastating reality in equal measure.

As if able to read her mind, Helaena sighs. “Aegon’s going to be there…and Aemond too.”

She groans at this. Helaena’s younger brother, another bane of her existence, though for a completely different reason to Aegon. Aemond genuinely seems to loathe her, actively going out of his way to avoid her, refusing to even look at her if they’re in the same room. His responses are curt, bordering upon rudeness when she has tried previously to engage him in conversation, and so she has given up, taking to ignoring him just as he does to her, though it does not come as naturally to her as it does him. She feels her skin prickle in his presence, fidgeting uncomfortably at the shift in energy in the room whenever he enters. Back in secondary school, she had made an attempt to forge a bond with him, by approaching him with the history essay she was due to hand in, and asking for him to take a look at it in case there were any improvements he thought she could make.

Aemond had scoffed as he’d looked it over, sliding the papers back across the table towards her with a harsh flick of his wrist. “Derivative,” he’d commented dismissively. “The point you’re trying to make is too diffuse for you to adequately summarise it. If you were to improve it, you’d simply have to rewrite it.”

She had walked away holding back tears, bitterly regretting her decision to attempt to extend an olive branch. When the essay had been given back to her she had been awarded an A grade, which made Aemond’s comments even more baffling to her.

“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “assuming he’ll have Alys to keep him busy?”

Helaena gives a solemn shake of her head. “They aren’t together anymore, so please try to be nice to him.”

She looks at Helaena incredulously. “Be nice to him?! Hel, Aemond hates me!”

“He doesn’t,” she replies with a gentle certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she huffs, swigging from her cider bottle once more.

“I do, actually,” Helaena utters, before turning her attention back to her daisy chain.

She feels that Helaena infuriates her almost as much as her brothers do sometimes. Bloody Targaryens.

A week later, her out of office is on and her bags are packed.

Helaena takes her bags, depositing them into an entryway closet to deal with later, the moment she steps through the door of the house, ushering her into the kitchen.

“Want to chop some stuff for me?” She asks. “I’m going to make a jug of Pimm’s for us all to drink by the pool.”

“Us all?” She asks, moving towards the chopping board on the kitchen side, where an assortment of strawberries, mint and cucumber has been set out, ready to be cut up.

“Yeah,” Helaena says, opening a cupboard and rummaging inside of it. “Me, you…Aemond, and Aegon…Aegon’s friend…”

Helaena’s voice tapers off as she pulls a glass jug from a shelf, her gaze turning towards the kitchen doorway.

She looks up from where she has been quartering a strawberry, her grip around the knife handle tightening subconsciously as she takes in the sight of Aegon standing there. But it’s not Aegon that is the issue, it’s the pretty brunette that’s standing next to him.

“Just wondering what’s taking so bloody long with the Pimm’s?” He asks, glancing between her and Helaena. “Are you fermenting the gin from scratch?”

“Hel was waiting for me to arrive,” she offers as a meek explanation, feeling her skin grow warm as he looks at her. “Hi, by the way.”

He fires off a mock salute at her, the casual gesture making her insides wither with disappointment. She was a fool to have expected anything more.

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl standing next to him pipes up with a cheerful smile, “nice to meet you.”

Aegon startles, as if suddenly realising she’s there, turning to look at Cassandra quickly before facing back towards her and Helaena.

“Oh yeah, Cass is gonna be staying for the week. Her brother’s brewery is supplying us with the kegs for Saturday.”

Cassandra nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Royce owns Storm’s End brewery, he’s gonna sort us out with the beer for the party.”

“Lovely,” she says with a tight smile, lowering her eyes back to the chopping board and slicing into a cucumber with more aggression than is necessary. 

“Why don’t you go and get comfy by the pool, Cass,” Aegon says, ushering her away with a smack on the bottom. “I’ll make sure these two hurry the fuck up with the drinks.”

Helaena’s eyes narrow once Cassandra is out of earshot, looking at Aegon as she empties a full bottle of Pimm’s into the glass jug. “You’re sleeping with one of the Baratheon sisters to get free beer? That’s low even for you.”

Aegon shrugs with a smirk. “I’m not above schmoozing for booze, Hel.”

“You’re a pig,” she retorts softly, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of lemonade. “What about what happened with Floris and Aemond?”

Aegon snorts derisively, leaning against the doorframe. “They only kissed.”

“And then she stalked him afterwards…”

“The week of a thousand texts!”

“Fifty seven to be precise. You remember, right?” She asks, turning to her friend for back up.

“Yeah, didn’t Aemond ghost her because she used the incorrect version of ‘your’ in a message?”

Helaena nods. “Yes, that was mean, and she didn’t deserve that. But sending someone so many texts when they clearly aren’t going to reply is a bit…” She wrinkles her nose. “...overbearing.”

“And she left him a five minute long voicemail,” Aegon titters.

“Yeah, you’re a pig,” Helaena insists, sloshing lemonade into the Pimm’s.

“Oh well. Hurry up!” Aegon demands with a clap of his hands, before walking away.

She hands Helaena the chopping board, now laden with chopped up garnishes and watches as she scrapes it into the jug, before stirring it.

Looking up, Helaena takes in the pained expression of her friend, her face softening. “Trust me, as Aegon’s sister, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” she quips unconvincingly, moving away to fetch glasses from another cupboard. “He’s just messing around.”

“I just think if you’re looking for someone who genuinely cares about you, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, taking down five glass tumblers from the shelf.

“Just…don’t close yourself off to other possibilities.”

Helaena takes the jug and heads outside to the pool, before she has a chance to respond.

Always so cryptic. It’s infuriating.

To her horror, as she heads out into the garden, glasses gripped between her fingers, Helaena has set herself up on the sun lounger on the furthest end, leaving the only one free between her and Aemond.

She sets the glasses down on the patio table, next to the Pimm’s jug and takes a moment to steel herself, before heading over. Wordlessly, she lays down on the sun lounger, trying to suppress the unease that ripples beneath her skin at the imposing figure of Aemond next to her. His sun lounger has its back propped up, and he sits bolt upright, long silver hair pulled up into a bun and a pair of black Ray Bans perched upon the bridge of his aquiline nose as he reads a philosophy book.

Pretentious twat.

“Aemond, pour us all some Pimm’s,” Helaena says lazily, leaning back on her lounger and propping an arm above her head.

His brow furrows momentarily before he responds. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to help out with our gathering yet.”

“It’s your gathering,” he retorts, “I just happen to live here. I’m not an active participant.”

She sighs, not wanting to listen to any more of their bickering. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“No, I will,” Aemond snaps, standing abruptly and setting his book down, before storming over to the table.

“Christ, what a prick,” she mutters to herself as she watches him go.

An hour later, she has changed into her bikini, and is laying on her front on her sun lounger, the remnants of her glass of Pimm’s turning warm in the sunshine beside it, as she loses herself in a historical fiction novel.

She can feel the heat prickling at her skin, and knows she ought to have put suncream on before coming back outside, she’ll burn if she continues to lay there. Sighing, she places her book on the patio next to her glass and sits up, reaching for the bottle which lays discarded beneath where Helaena is currently laying, dozing beneath her makeshift blanket of a beach towel.

She applies the lotion generously to her face, arms, legs and the exposed parts of her torso, stopping when she realises she is unable to reach her back. Looking over at Helaena, she can see she is still fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by warmth and alcohol.

Aegon and Cassandra sit by the edge of the pool with their feet submerged, talking and laughing as they drink what’s left of the Pimm’s directly from the jug, passing it back and forth. She would honestly rather die than go over there and risk the embarrassment of asking either one of them to help her.

Grunting with the strain of stretching her arms as far behind her as they’ll go, she attempts to spread sun cream on the rapidly reddening flesh of her shoulder blades.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aemond sighs exasperatedly, slamming his book closed. “Give it here!”

“What?” She freezes, embarrassment enveloping her like a shroud.

“Insulting as it is that you would rather attempt to wrench your arms free of their sockets than ask me for help, I can’t help but find your pathetic little display highly distracting. Give me the sun scream, I’ll do it for you.”

She is stunned into silence by the offer, her stomach erupting into nervous flutters at the idea of someone who hates her so much actually offering to help her, and with something so intimate too. She passes him the bottle, praying he doesn’t notice the way her hand trembles, doing her best to avoid the piercing gaze of his singular seeing eye.

“Turn around then,” he commands, after a few moments of silence.

“Oh…right, of course….yeah!” 

A fresh wave of humiliation washes over her, and she finds herself grateful for the opportunity to face away from him as she repositions, glad that she doesn’t have to see the hands of her best friend’s petulant younger brother moving over her body.

Her breath hitches when his fingers make first contact with her skin, though she does her best to suppress the accompanying squeak of surprise that had wanted to accompany it. His touch is gentler than she had anticipated, soft and careful as he works to spread the cream evenly across her back and shoulders. She feels herself relax, nervous tension evaporating as she focuses on the press of his fingertips against her flesh.

“How is life at the library treating you?” He asks casually, as he applies more cream to his fingers, spreading it across the lower part of her back.

“How do you know I work at the library?” She asks, surprised by his knowledge of her job.

“Your best friend is my older sister,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though what he says next is expressed with hesitant shyness. “...and I walk past it sometimes…see you in there…”

“Ah,” is all she’s able to reply, shocked but also annoyed with herself. This is the most Aemond has ever spoken to her, and she’s so rattled by it she can’t reciprocate the effort within the conversation he’s trying to strike up.

When she hears the cap on the sun cream bottle click closed, she finally seizes the opportunity to speak. “I was sorry to hear about you and Alys,” she says softly, “you guys were cute together.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he tells her cooly, tossing the bottle onto the towel next to her before standing up and walking back inside.

She watches him go over her shoulder, silently cursing herself for her thoughtlessness in bringing up such a sensitive topic.

Aemond avoids her for the rest of the day, and much of the next, until the following evening when Aegon and Helaena decide that a barbecue is a good idea.

The sky is a muted blue, the final vestige of daytime clinging to it, delaying the inevitable setting of the sun, as the air hangs thick with humidity, exacerbated from the smoke that billows upwards from the barbecue.

“Is there room for my veggie sausages?” Helaena asks, peering over Aegon’s shoulder as he stands at the sizzling grill, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other, turning pieces of chicken.

“Yeah, in the bin,” he replies smugly, before swigging from his beer bottle.

She can’t help but giggle quietly at the remark as she stirs dressing into the bowl of salad that rests upon the patio table.

Helaena tuts, holding out the packet towards her older brother. “Don’t be selfish!”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon scoffs with a roll of his eyes, setting his bottle down and snatching the packet from her.

She watches as he moves the meat on the grill to one side, before unceremoniously dumping out the sausages into the empty space. She huffs a laugh, shaking her head at his immaturity. 

Placing the salad bowl in the centre of the table, she’s about to reach for a packet of bread rolls to open, when Cassandra breezes out into the garden, laden with plates and cutlery.

“Why do you have six of everything?” Helaena asks suspiciously, fiddling with the corkscrew in the top of a bottle of wine. “There are only five of us.”

Cassandra gives a dismissive shrug. “Must have been miscounted,” she says, before joining Aegon at the barbecue, fussing at him for overcooking everything.

By the time they all sit around the table, a stony faced Aemond now having joined them, she is impressed by the spread that they have managed to pull together. Chicken, burgers and kebabs sit piled on a platter, though slightly burned. Salad, cold pasta, bread and dips accompany it all, and Helaena has ensured everyone has a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

The sky has begun to darken, a purple aura surrounding the burned orange glow that hangs low on the horizon, a pretty contrast to the fairy lights that are strung along the fence and overhead of where they sit.

She is trading the salad bowl for the plate of rolls with Helaena when Cassandra glances at her phone, so she barely notices when she excuses herself from the table with a flippant “be right back!”

A few moments later, she almost chokes on her wine, setting her glass down heavily upon the table and pressing her palm to her chest as she swallows forcefully. 

Cassandra has reappeared in the garden, this time with her sister, Floris, at her side.

“Oh god,” Helaena mutters under her breath, setting down her knife and fork.

Considering the way Aegon’s eyes visibly widen, it’s clear he doesn’t know that Cassandra had planned this.

Aemond sits with his back facing the patio door, so is the last to turn to look.

“Room for one more?” Floris asks with a bright smile.

Aemond whips back around in his seat, fury reflected in his right eye as he glares at Aegon, his voice dripping with venom. “Absolutely not.”

Aegon holds up his hands defensively, shoulders pulling up towards his ears. “I didn’t know!”

Ignoring the obvious tension in the air, Cassandra returns to her place next to Aegon, while Floris plops down into the empty seat between her and Aemond. She is sure she sees him physically recoil from her.

“Cassandra told me all about you and Alys,” Floris coos softly, placing her hand over the top of Aemond’s, “I thought perhaps you’d need a friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Aemond glowers, snatching his hand back.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have any,” Aegon laughs, draping his arm around the back of Cassandra’s chair.

“Stop it,” Helaena hisses at him.

“You know, I think you’re being kind of rude,” Floris says to Aemond, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You know what I think is rude?” He spits back. “Not being able to take a fucking hint, turning up to someone’s house uninvited. That is rude.”

“I invited her,” Cassandra cuts in, though she shrinks back the moment that Aemond directs his angry gaze towards her.

“And who the fuck are you?! A vapid little nobody that my brother has decided is his flavour of the week.”

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?!” Cassandra demands, looking expectantly at Aegon.

Aegon cringes outwardly, pulling his arm back from Cassandra’s chair. “This doesn’t really involve me, to be honest,” he tells her awkwardly.

“God, you’re pathetic!” She seethes, standing abruptly, causing the legs of her chair to scrape loudly against the patio. “Come on, Floris, we’re leaving.”

Floris stands, scowling down at Aemond as she does so. “You know, for someone who has—” she gestures towards his face, pointing specifically at his prosthetic eye, “you’d think you’d be more grateful for the attention.”

She flounces off alongside her sister, leaving the four of them in stunned silence. Helaena looks as though she wants to burst into tears, Aegon stares blankly across the table, fingers spinning his wine glass around by its stem, while Aemond quietly seethes with rage.

“Well, that was awkward,” Aegon finally says, reaching for more chicken.

The slamming of Aemond’s fist upon the table causes them all to startle, the force of it rattling the plates and glasses. They all look at him, wide eyed, as he stands up silently and walks back into the house.

She feels awful for the way Floris had spoken to him, and is desperate to make up for her earlier blunder, after fumbling their conversation so horribly. She can’t stand the thought of him being alone and upset, when both of his siblings are clearly in no position to offer comfort.

“I’ll go after him,” she says softly, rising from her seat and walking back into the house.

She finds Aemond in the foyer, about to head upstairs. 

“Wait,” she calls out, “I just wanted to see if you’re okay?”

“Never better,” he says sullenly, though he pauses and turns to face her.

“What Floris said was really uncalled for. Please don’t listen to her,” she tells him sympathetically, her eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

“I said I’m fine,” he insists, refusing to look her in the eye.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s okay not to–”

“What are you, a fucking therapist?!” He rages, causing her to shrink back.

“No, I was just trying to make you feel better,” she whispers meekly.

“Well, don’t,” he snaps back, “I don’t need your faux sympathy or your positivity buzzword bullshit.”

Her brow furrows as she feels annoyance prickle at her. None of this is her fault, she’s just trying to offer support, yet despite that he is lashing out at her anyway. Her mouth opens, the words leaving it before she has the chance to consider them. “You are such a miserable fucking twat, no wonder Alys finished with you!”

She regrets what she said the moment she sees the fury blaze within his right eye. Instinctively, she steps away, her back hitting the wall as he advances towards her. And then his lips are crushing against hers, causing her to squeak in surprise as he kisses her hungrily, his large hand cupping her jaw. She grips the front of his shirt, his fists balling into the material, unsure of if she wants to pull him closer or push him away. But she finds herself responding, her mouth moving against his, lips parting to allow his tongue entrance, letting it lick against hers.

Nervousness and excitement swirl like a maelstrom in her belly. She could never have anticipated this. What the hell are they doing? Aemond hates her, doesn’t he?

When they finally part for air, their breathing is ragged. Aemond stares down at her, lips parted and pupil dilated. “Do you want to come upstairs?” He asks lowly.

The question makes her heart feel as though it has stopped beating. It’s one thing to kiss Helaena’s younger brother, but another entirely to entertain the idea of sleeping with him.

She falters, trying her best to speak coherently. “I…um…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

Aemond pulls back, his face hardening back to blank stoicism in an instant. She immediately feels the loss of him, the space that his warmth had previously occupied suddenly feeling chilly.

“Of course,” he mutters darkly, “I would hate to cut into the time you spend following my brother around like a pathetic dog.”

The statement makes her feel as though she has had a bucket of ice water thrown over her, hurt and humiliation spreading hotly throughout her body, as tears sting at the rims of her eyes. He disappears up the stairs before she can say anything in response, leaving her alone in the foyer to compose herself, wondering what on earth just happened.

She scrubs her hands over her face, drawing in a few steadying breaths, before turning to head back outside. Helaena is already in the kitchen, wrapping plates of food in cling film. She looks up when she sees her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Need any help?” She asks.

“No, I’m all good. There’ll be leftovers in the fridge, if you want any.”

She utters a quiet thanks, before stepping outside, her eyes immediately drawn to Aegon who sits at the edge of the pool, paddling his feet, illuminated by only the pool lamps and soft fairy lights that are strung up around the garden. The sky hangs velvety black above them, stars twinkling in the distance.

Kicking off her flip flops, she sits beside him, dunking her own feet into the coolness of the water.

“Cassandra seemed pretty angry with you,” she says gently.

“Yeah,” Aegon replies, keeping his eyes fixed on the beer bottle he has clasped in both hands. “She’ll be back though.”

“You seem certain of that.”

“Well, I am irresistible,” he says, looking up at her with a grin. “And she’s left all her stuff here…”

She chuckles softly, facing forward again, a thousand things rushing through her mind that she wants to say to Aegon. Tonight couldn’t possibly get any messier, so why not speak her mind?

“Aegon…” she begins, unable to look at him, knowing the moment she does, all of her thoughts will unravel. “I think you know how I feel about you, why have we never…why won’t you…”

She sighs in frustration, unable to finish her train of thought, unsure of what it is she even wants to say. She dares to cast him a sideways glance and sees him anxiously chewing his lip, his thumbs picking at the label on the neck of the bottle.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” he finally admits, “you’re gorgeous. But you and I are never going to happen.”

She braces herself for the impact of the inevitable pain in her chest, but it never comes. Instead, she feels lighter. The final piece of closure she needs, permission to move on from the “what if” that has haunted her teenage years and entire adult life so far. Yet she cannot help her curiosity at his response.

“Why not?” She asks, turning to look at him.

He lifts his head, meeting her eye. “I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.”

“To who?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Aegon! You need to help me load the dishwasher,” Helaena calls out from behind them.

Aegon sighs, moving to stand, muttering “Christ, her last slave must have died of exhaustion” to himself as he walks away, leaving wet footprints on the patio behind him.

She is frustrated that Helaena interrupted them before Aegon could answer her, her curiosity piqued almost unbearably. As Aegon approaches Helaena, she hears her chastising him in a hushed tone, Aegon’s own defensive retort is also much quieter than his usual manner of speaking. She wonders what they’re arguing about, but quickly dismisses it. There has been enough conflict for one day.

Her thoughts drift back to Aemond and the kiss they had shared. She can still feel his lips lingering against hers if she focuses hard enough upon it. It had felt nice, she had kissed the man who hated her and actually enjoyed it. Then straight afterwards he had reminded her why she usually works so hard to avoid him. It was a fluke, not worth making a big deal of. She certainly wouldn’t be telling Helaena about it.

The following afternoon, her and Helaena laze around on beach towels that are laid upon the perfectly manicured lawn of the back garden, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun upon their skin.

As Aegon had predicted, Cassandra had shown back up at the house that morning, and their enthusiastic reconciliation had been what had prompted her and Helaena’s decision to relocate to the garden. Aemond hasn’t bothered to come back downstairs since insulting her the previous evening.

Helaena lays on her front, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed. She plucks a foil packet from beneath her towel and tears it open, pulling out a blue and green gummy worm. She dangles it towards her, the hint of a smile upon her lips.

“Want to go halves?” She asks.

“On a sweet?!”

“An edible!”

“Oh Christ…no!”

“Suit yourself,” Helaena says with an easy shrug, stretching the worm between her teeth as she bites off the end.

“Think I need to keep a clear head, especially after last night.”

“Mmm,” Helaena concurs, chewing and swallowing her mouthful of gummy. “I saw you talking to Aegon. Please tell me you aren’t still pining after him?”

“No, actually,” she says honestly, “I think last night was the closure I finally needed.”

“Good,” Helaena says, eyeing her carefully. “So what’s really bothering you?”

She sighs, knowing there’s no point denying it. Helaena is too intuitive for that.

“I…um…Aemond and I…we kissed…”

Nervously, she looks over at her friend, awaiting her angry reaction. However, instead of the scowl she’d expected, Helaena is smiling.

“And…?” She asks excitedly.

Why is she not more surprised by this? Shouldn’t she be annoyed?

“And nothing. I insulted him, he kissed me out of anger, then he insulted me when I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’s been sulking in his room ever since.”

“Go and make him apologise,” Helaena urges her.

“Why should I? He owes me an apology, he should come to me.”

“That’s not Aemond’s style. You’re both as stubborn as each other. Just go up to his room!”

“Why are you so eager for me to make up with him?”

“Because…” Helaena trails off, and for a moment she thinks she’s lost her train of thought, until she holds up the rest of the gummy worm with a smile. “Because I want to finish this and you’re harshing my buzz!”

Charming.

She has a point though, she supposes. She has made amends with one brother this week, it wouldn’t hurt to repair things with the other too.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” she says with a sigh, standing up and brushing herself off.

As she ascends the stairs towards the upper level of the house, it’s quiet, save for the soft sounds of music and Cassandra’s giggles coming through Aegon’s closed bedroom door. She pauses as she reaches Aemond’s room, her heart hammering in her chest, and nausea swirling in her gut as she stands outside, desperately trying to steel herself to knock.

What would she say? Would he even want to speak to her?

She takes a deep breath, attempting to push through the anxiety and knocks softly. She hears shuffling from the other side, before the door pulls slowly open. Aemond’s long silver hair is loose, and he’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jogging bottoms. He looks effortlessly flawless, despite how casually he’s dressed.

Has he always looked this good? How had she never noticed before?

He bows his head slightly when he sees it’s her, a flicker of sadness briefly visible in his eye before he casts his gaze downward.

“Can I come in?” She asks softly.

He nods, stepping back to allow her in, closing the door behind her.

She’s never been in Aemond’s room before. It’s flooded by natural light from the large bay windows, and everything is immaculately neat and tidy, from the orderly shelves of books, to how taut his bedsheets are pulled against the mattress. Everything has its place.

“I owe you an apology,” she begins, turning to face him.

His eyebrows raise, eye widening in surprise. “Me?”

She nods. “I should never have pried into your personal life, what happened between you and Alys is your business and I had no right to ask about it or pass comment on it. I’d really like it if we could just forget what happened yesterday and start again.”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?” He asks, stepping closer.

Her heart sinks, disappointment making her shoulders sag. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, looming over her, his breath ghosting against her skin as he speaks. “There’s a particular moment that I’m very keen to remember.”

Her skin grows warm, her breath hitching as he reaches up, his fingertips ghosting against the side of her neck. “Or are you still chasing after my brother like a pathetic little bitch?”

This time his words don’t offend, instead they send a shiver up her spine, her mouth going dry as his eye bores into hers.

“N–no,” she stammers, her pulse racing as his hand rests against her neck, his stare dark and intense. “I don’t like him like that anymore. I think I’d known that for a while, but him telling me it was never going to happen helped me to realise that.”

“Mmmm,” Aemond hums softly, leaning in, “I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.”

His lips ghost against hers, but she freezes as his words echo in her mind alongside his brother’s.

I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.

I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.

She pulls back sharply, brow furrowed as she stares at Aemond suspiciously. “Was it you that Aegon made a promise to, to never try anything with me?”

Aemond nods, reaching for her again, sighing as she steps away. “It was years ago. I made him promise me he’d leave you alone, because well…I like you, and he’s not good enough for you.”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her voice a tight sounding whisper as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “You had no right to do that…”

“I was protecting you,” he says softly, “he wouldn’t have been good to you.”

“And you would have?!” She responds, voice wavering around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “You’ve spent years ignoring me, only interacting to be hateful. How the fuck is that protecting me?!”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She cries, her chest tightening as hot tears roll down her cheeks. “If you liked me you should’ve said something, what you’ve done instead is manipulative and cruel.”

She pushes past Aemond, slamming his bedroom door behind him, before heading to Helaena’s room where she’s been staying since she arrived. Curling up on her side of the bed, her shoulders shake as she sobs quietly into the pillow, a hot swirl of anger, sadness and betrayal coursing through her body.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? What might’ve been if she’d just been given a chance with Aegon? What might’ve been if Aemond had voiced his feelings for her sooner? He had robbed her of the opportunity to find out any of it.

When the door eventually creaks open, she is unsure of how many hours she has been laying there. She has cried herself out, a hollow feeling having settled in her chest, numbness replacing the hurt and anger she’d felt previously.

“Hey,” Helaena says softly, the mattress dipping slightly as she sits upon the edge of it. “Brought you a sandwich, cheese and Marmite.”

“What time is it?” She asks groggily, pulling herself into a sitting position, as she gratefully accepts the plate from her.

“Just gone six. Figured there’s no point in us all doing dinner together tonight…”

“Sorry,” she whispers sadly, “I’ve fucked this whole week up.”

“You haven’t,” Helaena says earnestly, “none of this is your fault. Aemond has just chosen the worst possible way to tell you he has feelings for you.”

“You know?!” She asks, the warmth of embarrassment heating the apples of her cheeks.

“Please don’t be upset. Aemond’s always had a thing for you, I’ve always known. For what it’s worth, I think you guys would be great together.”

“Great together?! No offense, Hel, but your brother’s a tool.”

“He can be, yeah. But you’re more alike than you think. You just need to see beneath the tough guy exterior.”

She shakes her head. “Until this week he’s either ignored me or been awful to me.”

“Aemond isn’t the best at expressing how he feels, but he’s trying. I’ve gotten tired of watching him pine for you for so long, and make himself miserable never doing anything about it. I told him that if he didn’t say anything this week then I’d tell you myself.”

Her eyes widen, the confession taking her breath away. “Hel…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be meddling, and I know Aemond shouldn’t have interfered with Aegon. But honestly, you can do so much better.”

“And you think Aemond is better?”

“He could be, if you gave him the chance.”

“All we do is argue.”

“Because you’re so alike! You just need to listen to each other.”

She chews her lip, mulling over Helaena’s words. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. But not tonight. Tonight my only interests are this sandwich and whatever crap we can find on Netflix.”

“Sounds good to me,” Helaena replies happily.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up in Helaena’s bed, watching a nature documentary that they eventually fall asleep in front of.

It’s early when she awakens. She can’t see the time, but can tell from the pastel hue of the lightened sky visible through the window, where she and Helaena had fallen asleep without closing the curtains, that sunrise wasn’t long ago.

Eager to stretch her limbs, having been cooped up in the same room for more than twelve hours, she disentangles herself from her still sleeping friend, and pads downstairs. 

The aroma of brewing coffee lures her towards the kitchen, but she stops in her tracks when she spots Aemond, his back to her as he stands in front of the coffee maker. For a moment she considers just going back upstairs, until he turns and sees her.

Wordlessly, they stare at each other, time feeling as though it stretches on for an eternity, before finally he speaks.

“Coffee?”

“Um…sure.”

He nods, turning to grab the espresso cup from the drip tray before sliding it across the kitchen island to her. “Take this one.”

She utters a quiet thanks, perching on a bar stool as she wraps her hands around the warmth of the small ceramic vessel. The only sounds in the kitchen are that of Aemond preparing another coffee for himself. She’s grateful they both have something other than each other to focus on, as truthfully she doesn’t know what to say.

“Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true,” he recites as he turns back to her, placing his own coffee upon the counter.

“What?” Her brows pull together in confusion as she looks up at him from her cup.

“You wrote that in the history essay that you shared with me back when we were at school. That particular line has always stuck with me. I thought it was inspired.”

Her heart feels as though it skips a beat, realising he has remembered such a small detail, but it is contradictory to the reality of his reaction to it. “You said it was derivative.”

“That was unkind. I regret it,” he tells her sincerely. “Truthfully, it was brilliant. I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Why were you so rude about it then?”

“An attempt to push you away, I suppose.”

“Why?”

He sighs, taking a long sip of his coffee, looking pensive as he casts his eye away from her, choosing his words carefully. “You’re too good for Aegon, he has spent his entire life failing upwards, being given things he hasn’t earned, taking what I work hard for. I couldn’t let him take you too. But you’re also too good for me. I already thought you were perfect, and was trying so hard to keep you at arm’s length. I think I fell harder for you after reading your essay, and that scared me. You deserve better than me, but I can’t seem to let you go. I lost interest in Floris because she wasn’t as intelligent as you are, and Alys ended things with me because she could tell how hung up on you I am.”

She groans exasperatedly. “Am I seriously the last person to know that you have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent a long time hiding it, but now my cards are fully on the table. I’m being as honest as I can be. I didn’t intend for you to ever find out. I wanted to get over you. I didn’t think that you’d be interested.”

“Did it never occur to you to ask?”

“I’m asking now.”

“I…I’ve never thought about you that way, to be honest, not until you kissed me…”

“...and then?”

“I think I could…”

“So is that a yes?”

“You’ve not actually asked me anything…”

He rolls his eye. “I’m pouring my heart out here. Meet me halfway.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “I think we should take things slowly. Let me get to know the Aemond that’s not a massive arsehole. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle that.”

The air feels lighter somehow as they both sip their coffee, a peacefulness having settled over the two of them, rooted in mutual hope and excitement.

Over the next couple of days, her and Aemond spend more time together. He makes more of a conscious effort to include himself when she and Helaena hang out in communal spaces. They stay up all night talking, and when they’re alone together he intertwines his fingers with hers, asking her to read to him as he rests his head in her lap. They never go further than a few soft kisses, but she finds herself falling asleep cuddled up to him each night, instead of in Helaena’s bed.

It’s disconcerting to peer behind the iron facade of Aemond Targaryen, this softer, kinder, gentle hearted side is one she’s never seen before. Yet the more she gets to know it, the more she grows to like it. It’s something deeper, more intimate than anything she had ever felt for Aegon, and she realises this is because it surpasses mere infatuation, and her feelings are reciprocated.

It’s Saturday evening, and Aegon’s party is close to becoming out of control. The heavy bass of the music reverberates throughout the house, and Royce has provided more kegs than everyone in attendance combined could ever be able to drink in a single night. Every downstairs room, as well as the garden, bustles with people – most of whom she doesn’t know.

Despite this, she is having fun. Her, Helaena and Aemond have kept within their own little bubble, talking and laughing as they pass wine between them, slugging it directly from the bottle. The more she and Aemond drink, the closer they shift towards one another on the sofa, until eventually one of her legs ends up slung over the top of his.

Her mind feels fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol, spreading a warmth throughout her body. She feels happy, she can’t remember the last time she felt this content.

As the evening presses on, Aegon stumbles over to them, a few of his friends trailing after him. She can tell from his glassy eyed expression that he’s drunk. He sways slightly on his feet as he stands in front of them all, taking in the sight of her and Aemond sitting close together.

“There they are!” He slurs. “The happy couple!”

“Has your little brother got himself a girlfriend, Aegon?” His friend pipes up from behind him.

“My cast off, actually,” he says, gesturing towards her with his glass, slopping beer onto the living room floor as he does so.

“Watch yourself,” Aemond says darkly. She feels him tense beneath her, rapidly growing angry.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me, Aemond?” He asks, cocking his head. “I let you have her! So, come on, the least you can do is let us know what she’s like in the sack!”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Aemond hisses through gritted teeth.

“Stop it, both of you,” Helaena says pleadingly.

She grasps Aemond’s hand, a vain attempt to calm him, as Aegon laughs hysterically with his friends.

“You’ve not fucked her yet, have you?! Will she not put out? Still holding out hope for me?!”

She squeaks in surprise as Aemond stands abruptly, towering over Aegon as he squares up to him. “I said, shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”

“Why?” Aegon asks with a careless shrug. “Truth hurt, does it? Because let’s face it, she couldn’t be with me, so she settled for you. Second best.”

With an angry snarl, Aemond shoves Aegon, sending him toppling backwards into his friends, stunning the room into silence as he storms from it.

Her blood runs cold, her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage as she exchanges a horrified glance with Helaena, before hurrying after Aemond, who is already retreating up the stairs two at a time.

He is pacing his room, his breathing ragged as she follows him in, shutting the door and muffling the sound of the party below them.

“Ignore your twat of a brother,” she says soothingly, “he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Aemond shakes his head, and the look of hurt she sees reflected in his eye as he looks at her makes her heart squeeze painfully. “He’s right. You’re only with me because you couldn’t have Aegon.”

“He’s wrong.” She steps towards him, taking his hands in hers, “I couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out. What I feel for you…it’s real. You’ve made me happier in two days than Aegon ever has in ten years.”

“Do you really mean that?” He whispers.

He looks so vulnerable, so sad as he looks down at her that it makes her want to cry.

“Every word,” she utters, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him softly, her fingers caressing his cheek. “You’re so good, Aemond, so good to me.”

He rests his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her close, his eye fluttering closed. “I want to believe that.”

“I’ll make you,” she whispers, tugging him by the front of his shirt as she steps back towards the bed.

They topple onto the bedspread, laying on their sides, facing each other. Her grip on his shirt tightens as she kisses him again, deeper this time, her tongue lapping delicately against his, taking her time with it, allowing him to feel every movement of her lips against his.

When she pulls away, she trails her lips over the sharpness of his jaw and down the column of his throat, her fingers working deftly to open his buttons as she does so, caressing every inch of his bare torso as it’s revealed to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers against his neck, feeling him shiver against her, his rapidly growing hardness pressing against her thigh through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, as her hands move to his belt buckle, pulling it open.

“I want you,” she whispers, “more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

He groans, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, screwing his eye shut as she moves her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Her core throbs with arousal as she strokes the velvety soft flesh of his hardened cock, eagerly wrapping her fingers around it, pumping softly, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him.

She pushes his underwear down far enough to free his erection, before hooking a leg over his hip and tugging the thong beneath her dress to one side.

“Feel what you do to me,” she says huskily, dragging the head of him through the stickiness that has gathered between her thighs.

Aemond inhales sharply, hips jerking at the sensation, and she smiles at the effect she’s having on him, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

“I want you inside me,” she coos, “will you let me?”

He swallows thickly, pupil dilated with desire as he nods enthusiastically. “Fuck…yes…”

She positions him at her entrance, angling her hips to encourage him to press forward. All of the air feels as though it is forced from her lungs as he pushes into her, the stretch of her body around him is exquisite torture.

“Mmmm…so big,” she murmurs, stroking his hair, feeling him smile in response against the skin of her shoulder. She can tell from the way he’s tensing that he’s holding his breath, every part of him sinking inside of her as intense for him as it is for her.

Once he is fully sheathed inside, she winds her arms around his neck. His grip on her hip is iron clad as he uses his other hand to pull down the straps of her dress and her bra, pressing his face into her breasts as they slowly begin to rock their hips together.

Their pace is unhurried, less about the act itself and more about providing closeness and comfort to each other, and she knows that Aemond is in desperate need of both right now.

His thrusts are shallow as she rolls her hips in time with his, her fingers stroking softly through the silken strands of his hair as he nuzzles into her chest, sighing softly against her flesh with every praise and word of affirmation that she utters softly to him.

She doesn’t care if he brings her to release, she wants tonight to be about Aemond, to make him feel special. When he eventually comes undone, spilling himself inside of her as he pulsates and trembles, her heart flutters as he stares at her, eye filled with nothing but adoration.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, and thanks to Aemond she’s certain it always will be.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[nnight-dances]

EVERYTHING

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x f!reader (ft. wonbin)

GENRE: angst, fluff toward the end

TROPES: established relationship, model!jeonghan, singer-songwriter!reader, jealousy, paparazzi interference and rumors, and so on.

NOTE: this was hard to write so bear with me and let me know if there's anything that absolutely sucks about this lol... i love jeonghan but he's so hard to write (maybe it's because i'm the most not normal about him)... anyway this plot is kinda inspired by a real life fight i had with a friend who i have ambiguous feelings so do with that what u will :) enjoy!!!!

"thanks, love," jeonghan mumbles into your cheek when you hand him the wallet he'd forgotten at home this morning. even in the dim moody lighting of the room, you can see he's genuinely happy to see you when he pecks your cheek. you smile and press your hand into his, "how bad was today?" 

he hums, "not too bad if i don't think about it too hard."

it's not out of the ordinary for a successful model like jeonghan to have the mind-numbing schedule he has but you can't help hurting for him anyway. "i'm sorry, babe," you squeeze his fingers and he nods in acknowledgement. he's too tired to say much most days so you've gotten accustomed to interpreting his silences. 

you were part of a band known for its jazzy music and you were its lead singer and song-writer, which meant it couldn't be helped that you had written more than a few love songs dedicated to yoon jeonghan, your lover of over two years now. in that time, you'd found a good beat with jeonghan, spending a good four months with both your heads' deep in work and only the nighttime spent in each other's arms. sometimes, jeonghan's international presence meant a few weeks of not even that. and as your band got bigger, you took on tours that only took you further from jeonghan. but after a rocky summer, came the breeze of fall. 

fall meant downtime for both your jobs, a time you could easily retreat and while the rest of the world turned vacation mode off, you would travel with jeonghan, whether it be across the world or just along his skin on a rainy weekend. it was easy with him, even when it wasn't. 

but recently, you'd found yourself wondering if it really was that easy still. tonight you're performing at this club, a local presence known for its hosting of musical influences, and jeonghan managed to escape his impossible day to watch you. you should feel loved, grateful for him, but when it's your turn to perform, you feel yourself drift away from him.

onstage, even as you introduce yourself and your band members, your eyes are on him. but he seems so far away. he watches you, not a smile on his face, just familiarity. as if he'd memorized all that you had to say, as if this was another box to tick on his long day. you clear your throat to steady your mind and open the first song, "this one's called heavy." it was an old song, perhaps one you'd only performed before you met jeonghan. which would explain how hopeless the melody was, how uncertain your voice got throughout, and scarily enough, how much you found yourself relating to it now, so many years later. 

after the song's over, you glance at jeonghan and he seems as stoic as ever, clapping in encouragement but without any mirth. you sigh, "woah, sorry to bring the mood down like that," you chuckle a little when the crowd laughs, "um, anyway, this next one's much happier, i promise. it's called loverboy… after my one and only, well, boy." you laugh again and spot jeonghan smile, too, all the way at the bar and your heart thaws a little, allowing you to get through the song without thinking again about how cold it felt in the room. 

you get through the next two songs without a hitch, perhaps because you let yourself go on autopilot mode and restrict yourself from even looking at jeonghan for your own sake, and come down with a heavy sigh. your bandmate, yves, touches you on the shoulder with a frown, "you good, y/n?" you nod, "yeah… i'm just tired. or something." she pats you on the head, "don't think too hard about things, dove. just let go. or something." you laugh at her witty piece of advice and thank her as you head for jeonghan, naturally. 

he wraps you in his arms when you find him, plenty kisses on your neck, "my girl did so well." 

you let out an uneasy groan, "i don't know, han, i feel like i was lame."

jeonghan pulls away with a frown, "no, you weren't. you were amazing. although that first song caught me off guard. it's been a while since you performed it."

"yeah… it was my decision but it felt right," you shrug. jeonghan's eyes take on a gravity you don't like when you say that so you avert your gaze, "but more importantly, when can we go home so i can get out of this dress and sleep?"

a year ago, jeonghan would've gone, "i'll help you take it off right now, love," but now he agrees solemnly, "i think we go as soon as everyone's focused on the next set." 

–

you know it's stupid, you do, to dwell over the details of your relationship this obsessively. but honestly, once you start there's just so much to pick at. to start, you felt more distant from jeonghan than ever, as if there was something unsaid in your way just keeping you from getting back close to him. and you hate it when things go unsaid. but you also knew jeonghan didn't care for spelling every little thing out, he could settle for a little discomfort till ignoring it was enough to make it go away. 

but that was just it, you couldn't take it anymore. you'd had a few fights with jeonghan in the past and they'd all come down to the fundamental differences in your natures. you liked for everything to be said and thought out, especially if either of you felt hurt or unheard. jeonghan liked silence, just simple gestures speaking a million words and routines in place to reaffirm your love. you knew it was better his way, simpler and easier, but you'd lived his way and now, you find yourself suffocating in the same bed as him. 

you stir away from him, rolling off the bed and onto your feet, and make your way to your makeshift studio, closing the door off incase jeonghan gets curious. you can just say you were working on a new song. once in, you throw yourself against a bean bag, head heavy in hands. 

"god, this is stupid," you mumble as the tears roll out. you spiral almost immediately, thinking back to everything that went wrong in the past few months. for one, jeonghan was away for your 25th birthday, for the whole week, and though you'd spent it surrounded by your friends and his apologetic gifts, you couldn't talk the bitterness away. then, he'd been mad at you when you told him your tour started during the week he had off, calling you a "workaholic" because you'd rather work than go with him on the beach trip he'd planned. it was unfair, he'd admitted later, but not after you'd spent the whole week of your tour crying yourself to sleep. 

to add to it all, were the recent rumors in the news about jeonghan's brand new 'mistress', a japanese model called nana. even before the first article came out, he'd called you outright, telling you his agency had caught a reporter in japan pestering nana if she was anything to jeonghan. that had only dullled the pain you felt when you read it, pictures of jeonghan and nana posing for a cover shoot. and it wasn't the first time jeonghan had looked absolutely stunning beside another person, far better than you'd looked with him in all the paparazzi snaps that circulated the net when questioning if you were still in the running for the attractive model. 

it wasn't the first time and yet, thanks to your already strained relationship, you felt more hurt than usual. this was also the longest scandal yet, ongoing past four weeks, perhaps because of jeonghan's frequent visits to japan. it really got you thinking how there were so many reasons for the two of them to be in the same room. 

– 

jeonghan, alone in your shared bed, inevitably wakes up, confused when he doesn't feel you. "y/n?" he calls out, hoping you might just be using the washroom, but the lights are off and there's no sound in the bedroom. "my love?" he calls out louder, propping himself up on his elbows. when he hears no response, he falls onto his back with a weary sigh.

there was something up with you. you'd been acting… distant since the past two weeks. you'd pull away from his kisses a few beats too soon and wake up long before you had to. he wondered if he should ask you because he knows that's what you'd want but whenever he got to sit down next to in full seriousness, he'd go weak, missing your presence when he was away. 

he pulls out his phone, skimming throught the texts that had accumulated over the few hours he was asleep. there's a few from nana, the model he was rumored to be having an affair with. 

nana: another stupid article :( 

jeonghan sighs at the link she'd forwarded him. in full honesty, he'd all but developed a good friendship with nana while in japan, where he'd been previously lost without a good guide telling him where to go. given all his staff was korean, they could only be as useful as a google search. nana, however, had taken up to herself to show him the local spots, the shopping district where he'd been able to secure gifts for you, anticipating your needs before you'd known them.

you know all this, of course. jeonghan had offered to break all ties with nana if it bothered you but you'd been insistent that he keep his relationship with her, especially when it kept him sane abroad. 

you'd said you were fine, so how come you weren't next to him, mumbling sweet nothings into his chest like you always loved to? when you couldn't sleep, you would wake him up with your persistent kisses, apologizing when he did finally come to, but then talking about everything in the world from your outfit tomorrow to your plans in the next five years. 

"are we…" you'd started one night but then stopped, going hot and hiding your face into the pillow.

"are we what, love?" jeonghan pried you off the pillow and onto his arm, pushing his face close to yours so you couldn't run. 

"are we serious, han?" you finally asked, quietly. "you know, like, long-term serious?"

"hmm, let me think… i don't know we've only been dating for 20 months so i wouldn't get your hopes–"

you hit his chest with a muffled giggle, "you know what i meant!"

"i don't, really?"

you avert your gaze, "are we ever gonna, you know, be married? have kids? that kind of thing…"

jeonghan's heartbeat had sped up despite all his nonchalant facades and his face disclosed his flustered state causing you to go redder. "it's- forget about it if it's not something you've thought about–"

"of course i've thought about marrying you, doll," jeonghan asserts, arm around your waist to stop you from flailing around, his fingers draw circles on your exposed stomach. "of course i want to be committed to you for life, y/n. and don't even get me started on kids. i know it doesn't seem like it because i'm such a cool guy but i'm crazy for kids–"

"no, it's pretty obvious, you basically lose your head everytime we see a couple with a newborn baby–"

"okay, well, there you have it. i want kids with you, y/n."

you mull over his words in silence for a moment and then, "not now though, right?" you say, "we're both too succesful in our careers to… start a home."

jeonghan palms your cheek lovingly, "i think what we have right now is already home. but you're right, i think we ought to wait some more time. till it feels right."

till it feels right, he'd told you and now he kind of regrets it. he should've asked you to marry you right there so you'd never have a reason to doubt your relationship ever again. but again, that too was just a dream. 

– 

jeonghan was off to japan for a week. yet again, you think, holding your tears back on a sunday afternoon when you wake up to a resounding silence in your home. you need to find a way to make things right, you know. you need to talk to jeonghan but honestly, your head hurts so much you'd rather just forget all about him.

that's why you find yourself crashing at yves' place for the next few days, her house known to be a hub for lost souls and good music. you spend your afternoons working on new music, inspired by your new surroundings, writing about everything but jeonghan and as soon as it hit seven, you'd be helping yourself to martinis, thanks to yves' well-equipped bar. 

you were amid making yourself a drink while yves went over some notes and recordings you'd made this afternoon when she sat up with a weird look in her eyes. "y/n?"

"what is it? is it horrible?"

"no, it's not that. it's just… this feels like a different person," she comments, finger scrolling through your lyrics. "like a younger version of you? it has the same lonely vibe to it. i'm a fan of it to be honest, but i'm just wondering… is everything good?"

you chuckle, "yves, you ought to have known that if i'm here for an extended period of time, nothing is good… but i appreciatey you asking. i'll be fine, eventually." 

your friend is lost in thought for a while and you sip your drink when her phone pings with a message. she reads it and turns to you with a glint in her eye. 

"so… does that mean you'll go clubbing with me tonight?" 

– 

if you were gonna embrace a younger self, you might as well do it all, you thought, putting on a dress you'd loaned from yves. it was shorter than anything you'd worn recently and a light pink you never naturally gravitated towards. but you had to admit, it did look quite good on your figure when you looked in the mirror. you embellished your eyes with glitter, lining your eyes with mascara and a thin wing at the ends. 

the club itself is nicer than you'd expected and you're glad you'd dressed up as much as you did, pursing your lips to make sure the lip gloss you'd applied was still intact. yves pulls you to a table with her friends, some of them mutual to you, others complete strangers to you. either way, they're all fun, welcoming you without a question. 

one of the familiar faces is wonbin from a contemporary band known for its unique take on house music. he immediately materializes by your side when you've downed your first shot of the night, large grin overtaking his face. "you're here?" 

you tilt your head at his question, "i am! it's weird, isn't it?"

"a little," he shrugs, "you stopped coming out with us after you got swept up with that pretty model boy of yours."

you grow a little uneasy at the mention of jeonghan's name, "yeah, well, i thought it would be good for my music if i reconnected to my past a little. let myself live a little."

wonbin smiles, "that's nice, i love that. and to that," he brings out two more shots, handing you one, "cheers!" you hesitate for a moment but then catch yves looking at you encouragingly, and clink glasses with him, downing the drink in a go. 

that's all it really takes for you to let go. your body finds the music's rhythm faster than anyone else in the group so you take to the dance floor, and wonbin follows you, telling yves he'd look out for you. not that you need it. 

it's been a few songs that you've been dancing around, with wonbin's body getting closer to you with each time. you blink when his hand is at your waist, and you clear your throat, "i'm gonna go get some water!" wonbin grabs a hold of your wrist, "i'll come with!" 

it's a little uncomfortable, the way he's following you around, but you reassure yourself it was only for good intentions. a few more songs you keep yourself close to yves and her friends, feeling wonbin's presence heavily on your shoulder, but then you're a few more shots in and it doesn't really matter. 

it's only when you return from the bathroom when things go awry. it starts with your phone blowing up with texts and a call from jeonghan. in the loud music of the club, you can barely think, let alone talk to your boyfriend who you'd been ignoring for a week so you decline. when you make back to your table, your phone goes off again. jeonghan again. 

before you can register how odd it is of him to double-call you without good reason, wonbin's pulling you over next to him. you sit with a groan, "wonbin, i need to take this call–"

"y/n, you need to look at this. it's about jeonghan and that japanese model–"

yves cuts wonbin, "wonbin, get the fuck off her!" she tries to pry his arm off you but you find yourself unmoving when you catch jeonghan's figure on screen. he's laughing next to someone, a girl– oh, it's nana. she leans in close, a little too close, and you're not sure if it's your spinning head, but she keeps on getting closer, close until her lips are on jeonghan's and–

"i feel sick," you exclaim suddenly, clutching your stomach. wonbin's strong arms are around you in a moment and yves can't fight him off when he leads you through to crowd, weaving through the impossibly long line to the bathrooms. despite everything, you're thankful for him when he holds your hair up when you throw your guts up, tears mixing with the alcohol in your system. 

when you're done, you ask yves if she can take you home and she's already ready with your bag over her shoulder. 

"y/n, wait!" wonbin stops you, hand on your elbow, "can i talk to you for a sec–"

"wonbin, please, you've done enough, she needs to go home–"

"go home to what exactly?" he questions and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to your knees with the sobs that wreck your body, "i'm here for you, y/n, if you ever need–"

down in your bones you know jeonghan better than anyone, know he would never be the kind to cheat on you, to ever leave you for the wolves like this. but honestly, the news ring out louder than anything in your head. "yoon jeonghan with ito nana, confirmed? was his little singer-songwriter girlfriend just a joke?" 

that's how you feel right now. little. and like a joke. you simply nod at wonbin and turn around to leave the club before the music can suffocate you any more. 

"i'm sorry, y/n, i didn't think he'd act up like that–"

"it's okay, yves, you didn't do anything," you tell her and look down at your phone at the photo of jeonghan that shows up every time he calls you. it was one you'd taken on your very first dates, of him sitting prettily across the table with a chopstick in each hand. 

"you should talk to him, y/n," yves pats your back, "you don't have to go back to him but you have to hear him out, right?"

you sigh, "you're right." 

you accept the call as yves leads you to a silent corner and gives you some space as she goes off for a smoke. you hold your breath when you hear jeonghan's voice. he sounds distraught.

"y/n? love?" 

all you can do is sigh to delay your tears. "hey," you say coarsely and jeonghan's losing his mind. 

"baby, can you stay where you are? i'm on my way, okay? i… i don't know what you've seen but you know it's not the truth. okay? just," you hear him run into someone and apologize. was he running to you? that would be crazy. "just let me talk to you."

you take a deep breath, "i'm waiting here." 

you don't question how he found you, it's likely your location on life360, a feature you'd added a year into your relationship just to know where the other was. just in case. 

you hadn't opened the app in a while, there hadn't been a reason. even if you knew where he was, he'd be far enough that it didn't mean enough. 

it takes a few more minutes before you hear jeonghan's voice on the sidewalk outside the club. he's in a white shirt that's been untucked from his pants. he's disheveled, and you can only wonder why. 

"y/n," he says, out of breath, sweat beading his forehead. 

"did you run here?"

"the car was stuck in the traffic so i told my driver to catch up," he inhales deeply, "i had to see you." 

"and why is that exactly?"

jeonghan sighs, "love, i think we both know why. that clip of nana kissing me probably found you by now?"

you look at your feet, "i saw it. i thought you guys were just friends?" you pause and before jeonghan can speak, you continue, "or was that just a lie silly little me believed?" 

jeonghan's hands find your shoulders, "there is absolutely nothing between me and her. i thought my platonic feelings were reciprocated because we'd been normal for so long. but then today, she… she kissed me and i realized that was me being stupid." 

"of course she was into you," you mumble. 

"i'm sorry, i really am. not just for this but for the past few weeks. or more than at. i don't know how long it's been but i feel like i haven't been putting you first."

"jeonghan, you have to know that it just sounds like you're overcompensating so i forget about the nana stuff."

"there is no nana stuff," he tells you, "and if you must know, i was always planning to come home a few days earlier. you've been so cold lately and i thought i could surprise you. but then you stopped responding to my texts and i found out through your bandmates you hadn't been home in a week. i got worried and in my head."

"i admit, i let nana distract me, but as nothing more than a friend. because when you're gone, i also lose my closest friend. i have no one but you to talk to you, love, i can't trust anyone, not after today. and i'm so sorry that i don't talk to you more, that i don't address problems as they come up."

you feel weaker than ever, head still down as tears roll down. "y/n? are you crying? baby, look at me, please."

"han, i really don't know what to do anymore," you finally break out, letting him take you into his arms, "i've been so miserable without you. i… i can't do it anymore." you take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. 

"you're so good at accepting changes and moving on from little fights. but i'm crazy. i get stuck in a spiral for days over the little things and after your scandal started, i… i can't help but think they're right." 

you pull away to look jeonghan in the eyes, "maybe i'm not the right one–"

"no," jeonghan cuts you off with a hiss that surprises both of you, "i will not have you think the stupid crap they're writing in the news, okay? you're my love, y/n, you're my everything. seriously, did you not hear me? i don't care about anyone else like i care about you. god, i'm stupid for not having married you when i had the chance."

"han, i don't know, i'm so tired," you rest your head against his. "can we go home for now?" 

later that night, you sit side by side with jeonghan on your side of the bed. you've taken your shoes off but not your dress. "is that a new dress?" he asks lowly. 

"i borrowed it from yves," you reply, adjusting the straps to sit right, "does it look fine?"

you feel like you're in a liminal space with jeonghan right now. you haven't broken up but you're not sure if everything's back to normal just yet. funnily, it feels like the first few months of getting to know him. he has the same boyish nervousness about him as his hand reaches out to brush your hair out of your face. 

"you look so good i'm mad i didn't buy you this dress," he says, "or that i didn't get to dance with you in it." 

you sniff, "i wish you'd been there tonight." and after a moment, "i wish we weren't so different."

and then again, "i wish we were the same person so i could know your thoughts inside and out without having to bother you." 

"it's not a bother, i'm just bad at it," jeonghan says, "and i don't wish we were the same person. because i love how different we are. i have so much fun with you, learning your ways and fighting with you."

"fighting is fun?" you ridicule him.

"only in retrospect, of course. i never want to see you look as hurt as you did tonight." 

he reaches out for your hand and you let him, intertwining your fingers. he places your joined hands against his lips and then back into his lap. "i love you, y/n. i love you more than everything."

"i thought i was everything?" you ask through a half-concealed giggle.

"don't tease me when i'm being vulnerable, love," he whines, "i'm serious. i'm sorry for making you feel so ignored all this while. it was never my intention. everything i did, i did because i'm stupid and still learning. but i always want to be with you. i want to spend everyday with you." 

"i love you too, han," you kiss his shoulder, "i'm sorry, too, for being so closed off. you don't have to feel so bad, it was partially my fault too."

jeonghan stands up, pulling you up after him. before you can ask him what's wrong, he hugs you tight, breath soft on your exposed back. your arms find his waist, rubbing his back in a reminder of how much you love him. slowly, you're not sure who starts it, you both start swaying to no song in particular, just to the rhythm of your heartbeats. he twirls you around with a smile and kisses your forehead. 

"on that note, my love," jeonghan stills you, tiptoeing across the room to his bag, ruffling through before finding what he was looking for. it's only when he gets on a knee that you comprehend what's happening, "i know i haven't been the most promising husband material but i promise, it will only get better from here. i've made the mistake of not doing this earlier and i can't wait to make you mine forever. so, y/n, will you marry me?"

with that, he opens the black box in his hands, revealing the precious diamond ring inside.

you've never fallen to your knees faster, taking his hands in yours, "yes, of course, i'll marry you, han! i–" you fall short of words when you look at the ring in his hands, "i had no idea you were planning on– god, i'm– i love you, han."

"part of the reason i wanted to come back faster was to do this," he tells you softly, slipping the ring onto your finger, "to finally propose to you." 

"finally?" you question, sensing some hidden meaning behind his words. 

"well, i have had this ring for a year now. i considered getting a newer model but this one was just too gorgeous." he takes your left hand in his, "and it looks prettier on you than i could have ever imagined."

"a year?" you ask in disbelief, "han! you– why didn't you tell me?" you feel stupid really, knowing how long he'd planned on marrying you for real. his love for you looms over you and you can't help but feel lightheaded. 

"because i didn't think it was the right time yet. i was wrong about that, of course. any time is right with you. i just needed to make you mine." 

you throw your arms around him, tearing up again, "yoon jeonghan, god, you make me crazy."

"so is that a good crazy, as in you'll write happy love songs about me again or… as in i make you want to scream and shout?"

"honestly, a bit of both," you laugh against his shoulder, "and about the happy love songs… i think you should know but i wrote some really depressing songs while you were away. yves loves them so they'll end up on the next album but i know you don't necessarily like them so–"

"what are you talking about? i love all of your songs."

"han," you kiss his cheek with a smile, "you don't have to lie. i know you feel weird about them. and that's okay. but i hope you know, i'm in a different space when i write those, and i will continue to write those. but they don't reflect the truth in any way, okay?"

he narrows his eyes, his lips pouty, "you mean to say i'm not good enough for you to make you happy for the rest of you life?"

"that is not what i said, babe, and you know it," you laugh again, letting him pull you onto his lap. he kisses you once and then twice. "if you say so, love." 

you spend your first night engaged to jeonghan the best way possible: talking to him. you lay down next to him, in your pyjamas, feeling fuller than ever. he tells you everything he'd thought or done in the past few months, scrolling through his camera roll for reference and kissing you whenever you'd have a giggling reaction. when it was your turn, you pulled up your notes app with lyrics from the past few months and read some select ones out for him.

"oh, oh, and the way i was gonna introduce this one was like this," you clear your throat as if taking on your stage persona, "this one's called no one's prettier because no one's prettier than my boy." 

you fall into a laughing fit with jeonghan, a slight blush on his cheeks when he pulls you close, "someone's down bad for me, huh?"

"yes, sir, i am," you say back, smugly, "i love my boy, sorry, my fiancé so much and i just can't shut the fuck about him."

"god, say that again."

"what? that i can't shut the fuck up about my pretty fiancé? my adorable loverboy? my honest and reliable husband?" the last word feels so right on your tongue when uttered for jeonghan, even though you'd never said it before.

"you're my everything, love," mumbles jeonghan with a big smile, kissing you sqaure on the mouth. 

–

"...so the past few months have been a rough trek for the band," you speak into the microphone, looking onto the solemn crowd with a soft smile, "and when i say the band, i really just mean me. i think i aged by like ten years." the crowd laughs. 

"but i came out stronger, and more engaged than ever," you wiggle your left hand at the crowd, throwing a smile at jeonghan at the front, watching with a smitten grin. "so here's a new song i wrote. it's called everything because my love is everything to me." 

when your set ends, you rush to jeonghan's arms and before you can ask him he'd liked the new song, he kisses your hands. "that was perfect, love. i've never felt more seen by a song." 

you let him shower you with kisses as you walk him through the lyrics a little. you're in the middle of explaining the bridge when you're interrupted by a call of your name. 

"y/n?"

you turn around to find wonbin standing before with a rose in his hand. "oh, hi, wonbin!" 

jeonghan doesn't do anything to hide the dislike on his face for the man. after all, you'd told him about everything that happened that night at the club and had barely managed to calm him down after. "hey," he nods at jeonghan who simply raises his brows at him.

wonbin glances at jeonghan's arm around your waist and sighs. "congratulations on your engagement, y/n," he holds out the rose, "and i'm sorry about everything that happened with us. i hope you know it's only because i have nothing but admiration for you. and maybe one day–" 

"thank you for your kind words, wonbin," jeonghan cuts him off, taking the rose and handing it to you with a small smile. "but we need to be going somewhere. sorry. see you around. maybe at the wedding?" 

as you walk away from wonbin, you chuckle at jeonghan, "didn't know you were still worked up about that guy?"

"of course i am! he tried to take advantage of you in a hard time! i'm just too pretty to get into a fight or i would've thrown hands long ago."

you laugh as you kiss him on the cheek, "right, of course. my baby, let's go home." 

[elizabethplaid]

early morning notes - nov 4, 2024

Both phone-friend and streamer-friend were busy this weekend, so I spent my time napping and playing on my phone. (And taking photos of Wampus, which have been popular.) I sent them both well-wishes, but I didn't want to bother them. Both needed the break from their daily routines. Also, I was the one to suggest canceling this week's call, out of respect.

Thursday (Halloween, Oct 31st) was my dental appointment and some shopping, which left me very fatigued, both physically and mentally. Friday through now, my sense of touch has been hyper-aroused, but it's less scary than what happened at the end of August. (At least I didn't break my chakra, like I feared last time.)

I "took matters into my own hands" on Friday, but the sensations have persisted. I've been hesitant to say anything, as there's really nothing to be done. It's fun to whine when it's amusing, but it feels embarrassing and frustrating this time. I'm tired; I want to sleep; I don't want to be aroused. I'm too tired to do anything about it.

Sunday (Nov 3) was Friends-giving with Neighbors-S+J. I didn't go, because I'm so wonked, but dad brought home dessert. I was an impulsive fool and ate it right away, though it was close to midnight. I was most of the way through the cheesecake when I realized it'd been on the counter for a few hours. Ah, that pesky food safety. I stopped eating it and threw the rest away. (Cookies and chocolate pieces were saved and set in the fridge, as those are usually more stable.)

My impulsiveness also kept me from making a "proper" meal for myself. In the morning, I'll have something with more food groups, but emotions are clinging to that cheesecake and not sitting well with me. (Not nauseated, just some regret mixed with other weird things.) I'm near the end of my cycle, so that's my excuse for my current condition, at least partly.

I've taken my meds this morning, though I think I was late to take them yesterday (closer to noon). I was going to finish tasks for a game-event on my phone, but fatigue has eroded away my interest. There are some echoes of a dream that are lingering (kissing a hand, fairy bread), along with reading the symbolism from another recent dream, bothering my thoughts. Again, fatigue makes me want to ignore them.

I'm trying to search my memories for answers to my current situation. I've talked about this with my counselor and phone-friend. I've developed strategies before. I just can't think right now. It wasn't actions; it was attitudes, how to regard things and not get discouraged.

She also asked how I felt about the portraits from that dream, the one that's still bugging me. The symbolism site I read said it was "how you want to be seen by others", and that's true, but the details about the artist made it weird. I noted contrasts with other dreams of similar themes. Need to write down those imagery-symbols, so I can report back later.

The part about grout in dentures paralleled my dental cleaning, as well. It bothers me that it was a prediction, in a sense. The only other predictive dream I've had was related to my assault. And that anniversary is later this month, so I'm trying to keep my brain from revisiting those unhappy places.

There were also some story scenarios I envisioned as I went through that endorphin crash. I wrote about it but saved it as a draft, as it felt too painful to let anyone else see. I just had counseling the day before dental, so it's another week+ before we talk again. If I'm not feeling better by Tuesday, I'll ask for an earlier appointment.

I know there are bad feelings bubbling closer to the surface right now. They're buried under a layer of numbness, at the moment, which is also preventing me from thinking much. I appreciate how my brain is unconsciously/subconsciously? protecting me.

Still working through how much I allow myself to lean on others. This pain isn't new; there's nothing to be done by either me or them. So why bother sharing it? Maybe I'm using that as a cover-up for shame, too. Vulnerability is embarrassing, after all. Guess the mental health stuff is pretty heavy if I'm wrestling with philosophical stuff about deserving to be cared for. But it's also not easy to undo a lifetime of bad lessons, so I must be patient and kind with myself. I think I'll take a nap.

[imathers]

And so the work week comes to an end! We got Monday off, although here we didn't make our fancy dinner until Tuesday (because Anais got a last minute invite to a fancy sushi dinner Monday after her friend's sister got sick), and then I spent what felt like every waking moment the rest of the week on the work thing I mentioned last week. Which I got the first, most urgent part of my share done a day or two ahead of schedule, even, but also which made me feel like the above most of the time.

Not because it's challenging or I kept screwing up, but because it's so mind-numbing at times it felt like my brain was leaking out of my ears. Still working on it now, and will be most or all or next week, but the hardest part is over. Tomorrow I'm going with a friend to their family fancy dinner (postponed because they were out of town last weekend), which I've been to in years past. Other than that, just going to... sleep? Hope you have a good weekend.

[taeminsung]

ghost of you..

pairing: changbin x reader

summary: it was the way that changbin never imagined what the world would be like without you by his side. 

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my head for a bit, i apologize in advance for being in my feels. please join me there and enjoy ♡

Silence filled the too small room as Changbin stared unseeing at the wall behind his computer. It had been a stupid idea to come to the studio, but he needed a new outlet besides the gym or watching endless dramas. At this point he didn’t know what day of the week it was or what was on their schedule, and he was solely relying on Chan to tell him where he was supposed to be and what type of mood he was to be in. Maybe it was for the better to not have to think, to not have to put in effort to do anything but just exist, or maybe he was avoiding thinking because he knew that no matter what he thought, you were wrapped into everything he did.

The pounding at the gates started as soon as he entered the studio. It had been a week, or maybe more, since he had even ventured into the space, instead claiming a permanent spot in Chan’s room. However, due to his weekly schedule, Chan gave him the option to join his live stream or get out. Home wasn’t an option since most nights he found sleeping at the other dorm on the couch. No matter how many times he ran his sheets through the washer, there was still the lingering scent of your perfume. Every place he wanted to be, there were traces of you left behind.

All the memories he was collecting found themselves haunted and shoved into the closet.

Grounding himself back to reality, he forced himself to focus on the little task he assigned himself when he came into the room. Work on music. Create something. Create anything, even if it’s only five seconds. Maybe he would get used to this feeling, a hazy numbness doing activities that he used to do with you. A feeling that he wanted to drown out making music, throwing his everything into something that he knew he was good at. Fingers slowly opened the laptop, while a breath caught in his throat at the background. The photo captured you on his back while he was running down the beach, aiming to toss the both of you into the ocean as the sun shined down on the perfect day. It was the few days he got off and all the members agreed to take a weekend off and enjoy the beach, he immediately invited you to join and have some much-needed time together.

Cursing under his breath, he quickly adverted his eyes to anything else in his sight, catching on a mug that was half tucked behind a few other items on this desk. Slowly, he reached across everything, tugging gently on the handle wondering which member had left it there. Turning it in his hands, he noted the lipstick stain that was gradually fading as time went on. It was a shade he knew all too well, as it usually covered the lips that he used to call home. Memory after memory filled his head as he remembered all the late nights the two of you would be curled up in this room, giggling at the makeshift guide he had you do because he was too tired to do it himself. The nights when you’d sit with your legs tucked under you sipping tea or coffee as he wrote lyric after lyric about you and all the ways that he loved you.

Not once did he imagine that loving you would be the happiest he’d ever been.

The weight of the world came crashing into his chest, removing the remaining air from his lungs as the tears finally welled in his eyes, threatening to open the gates that he had spent time continuously reinforcing. If the gate he crafted broke open, he honestly didn’t think that he would be able to survive everything that would come rushing out. Shaky hands reached for him phone, knowing that he would need not only his hyungs but the rest of his members as well.

Countless thoughts continued to come and go as his mind shuffled tirelessly through the memories and moments of you. Stirring up events he hadn’t thought about in a year, because he didn’t think they would be anything more than a passing memory. What if he had taken a different road? Would things have ended the same? Would his heart still feel like it no amount of time would heal it? Never once did a life without you cross his mind when he held you in his arms falling asleep on the couch of the dorm after watching your favorite movie for some unknown time. No, instead he laid there thinking about how the two of you could grow old together, still as in love as he had been in that instant. His love for you had consumed him, his work, his heart because you were his everything.

Quietly, he pulled up the last session he had worked on with you, allowing it to be the only sound that filled the room. You had brought so much light and joy to his life that listening to this now, truly broke down the last piece of the door he used to box up the heartbreak he didn’t want to accept. A sob overpowered the music as he realized that you lingered in everything he did. Mixed emotions bubbled to the surface as rage quickly took over as he threw that stained mug at the wall before the air that filled his lungs was released as a scream. Maybe the ghost of you would eventually fade with time or maybe he’d always have this piece of you trailing after him, reminding him of what true happiness was.

Silence again filled the room as he paused the track, settling into staring at the new mark on the wall, waiting for his brothers to come and rescue him from the despair he felt himself falling into.

♡ ── thank you for reading! let me know your thoughts & requests are open.    

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[harry-writings]

We’ll Be Alright

The one where Harry and Y/n have a hard time coping without one another, and Harry finally understands what it means to be a husband

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

How to support me <333

-

Y/n knows she’s hit rock bottom when she pours her fifth glass of whiskey at three in the morning, lighting up her seventh cigarette on her bedroom balcony, as if furthering herself away from her right state of mind will somehow bring her closer to all the answers she had been looking for.

She doesn’t even smoke.

The last time she came this close to a cigarette was five months before she found out she was pregnant with Topher. It was the third time Harry didn’t show up to marriage counseling, and Y/n was so upset and so angry and so hurt that she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying until it was in her hands.

This time, though, the shaking and the crying don’t stop.

She’s sitting on one of the balcony chairs, her elbows propped up on her knees, one hand resting at the roots of her hair and the other holding her glass in her palm and her cigarette between her fingers. Her leg is bouncing and her eyes are wet, zoning herself out from the rest of the world, trying to get as far away from herself as possible.

She hasn’t seen Harry in thirteen days.

Not only has she not seen Harry, but she also hasn’t talked to Harry or had any ties left to Harry for nearly two weeks now and Y/n can barely hold herself together anymore. She’s surprised she’s even gotten this far without him.

They aren’t divorced — the papers were left on the courtroom table practically untouched, and though she hates to admit it to herself, Y/n was the first to leave them behind — but they might as well have been.

He wasn’t even the one to pick up Topher today. And she didn’t realize how much she’d miss their traditions — even the ones they’ve made while being separated — until she saw Mitch standing at the other side of her door and watched as he buckled her son into the same carseat Harry once had in his car.

It was at that moment that she knew that even though they weren’t divorced, they really were over, and it was enough to push her over the edge.

Now she’s so drunk she can barely remember where she is. The skyline and the buildings look familiar, but everything is so out of touch she can’t find the same peace and comfort in it as she once used to.

Everything has faded to nothing.

And whether it’s from the alcohol, or the revisitation of bad habits, or if it’s from grieving the loss of somebody still alive, but everything to her feels numb. All that’s left is pain and sadness and the fear of living the rest of her life exactly like this — lost, hopeless, and alone.

She thinks back to the day she slept with Harry — as she does, she throws the last bit of whiskey down her throat and swallows it down without a flinch — and how that day was forever going to be the last day she had ever held him, had ever kissed him, had ever told him that she loved him.  

If she had known — really, really known — it was going to be her last chance to do any of those things, she wouldn’t have pushed him away. She would have done all the things Harry wanted — would have spent the rest of their day in bed, drinking wine, celebrating all that once was and what always could be.

Because that’s what she wanted, too. That’s what she’s wanted since the beginning of this mess they’ve made of themselves, she just didn’t ever want to admit it.

This feeling that burns in her stomach at the thought of not being with Harry makes her want to scream. She can’t escape it, even as the alcohol seeps into her bloodstream and takes away every other feeling in her body.

She sobs, her chin tucking into her chest and her palms pressing to her forehead, agonizing and inhumane cries falling past her lips.

Her Harry is no longer hers.

She squeezes her eyes shut, a puddle of tears falling down her cheeks as she does so, her hand dropping the whiskey glass, her cigarette left sparked on the balcony floor as her fingers twist and pull at her hair. She hunches over her knees, trying so desperately to put herself back together again.

But it’s impossible. She knows it’s impossible because it’s him that makes her whole — him that holds her and keeps her together, even when everything else around her is falling apart.

She’d do anything to feel his arms around her now.

And it’s all she can think about — how lonely and cold and frigid it feels without the feel of his touch, and how loud the silence is without the sound of his voice in her ear, telling her how in love with her he is, giggling at her blush.

And she’s had so much to drink she can trick her mind into believing that he’s here, if she thinks about it hard enough. She mistakes the wind for the feel of him walking past her, smells his cologne in the liquor, but it’s still too quiet for her to really, truly believe it.

And she just wants to believe it. For once, she wants to pretend that he’s here with her, loving her, wanting her the way he always used to. Even if it’s the wrong thing to do.

Her hand shakingly reaches for her phone.

“‘Ello, this is Harry! I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your call, but I promise to return to you whenever I’m next available. Thank you, talk soon! Bye.”

And oh, how good it feels to hear his voice again.

It brings her back to all the times she’d call Harry while he was away on tour and how every phone call lasted at least two hours. Whether it was to check up on him, or to wish him goodnight, or to have phone sex, he never failed to make every second they were spending apart feel so worth it.

She calls him six more times just to hear his voicemail.

By the seventh and last phone call, Y/n is so low she’s tempted to just finish it off — down the pack of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey that have kept her more company than her husband. Maybe filling her void with vices will be enough to last her until the blackout, where she will finally be free.

But what will she have left if she does?

The loneliness and the sadness and the hopelessness will all still be there. She will still wake up to a cold bed, in an empty home, with nobody to share her life with. She will still have this sick and twisted feeling that happiness doesn’t exist outside of her Harry — that happiness doesn’t exist within these walls, miles away from him, with only herself to hold.

She can’t keep waking up without him anymore. She can hardly keep living.

So, she does the first and only thing that comes to her mind.

She calls Mitch.

The clock nearly at four in the morning doesn’t seem to strike her as her drunken fingers struggle to tap on his contact name, knowing that this is the only way.

“Mitch.” Y/n hiccups when he answers her call, watching as everything around her starts to spin out of her control, instinctively reaching her hand beside her to hold onto Harry’s — the way she always did whenever she got too drunk. Her heart hurts even worse than before when she’s met with nothing but the ache of what once was. “Come get me, please.”

Something in the air shifts around Mitch.

He has known Y/n for years now, yet he can barely recognize that it’s her voice on the phone. He has to look down at the name on his phone twice before pressing the speaker to his ear, his heart nearly still as he wonders the reason behind such a disturbing and unexpected request.

“Y/n… is everything alright?” He asks tentatively, carefully, because she’s never awake this late at night and has never sounded so hurt. “What’s happened, love?”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling, almost angrily.

“My husband’s been ignoring me for the past two weeks and I’m not —” She stops, sucking in a broken breath, not even believing the words she just spoke because she never believed he’d leave her all alone for so long. “I’m not taking it so well, obviously.”

Mitch sighs.

He should have known, from the second he saw the look on her face earlier that evening, that her night was going to end like this. The love she and Harry share is a kind he’s never seen before — something so far from ordinary, something he couldn’t even understand despite the love for his own girlfriend, who lays beside him so peacefully now.

Their love is more than love. It’s deeper, more soulful, as if they have found each other in every past life and every after life. They truly are, in the most unexplainable of ways, made for one another eternally. Forever, they are theirs.

It’s both a blessing and a curse — their preexisting connection— because they are everything together, but absolutely nothing apart.

“Y/n, love... he’s not ignoring you. He wouldn’t dream of it.”

Oh, how she wishes it was true.

“He didn’t even want to see me tonight. He sees me two days out of the week and he didn’t even want that. There was a time he’d do anything just to look at me for even a second.”

He wishes he knew what to say.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to see her — all he does is cry and whine and sulk about how he hasn’t — he just believes leaving Y/n alone is truly what’s best for her right now.

She has barely had any time away from him. Surely, she did have the weekdays to herself and Topher, but she still had to see him every weekend — still had to face him at her doorway; still had to be around him, even on her worst days; still had to be reminded of everything that had gone wrong.

Being around him confuses her. He knows that now, and so does Mitch. But Mitch always knew. Y/n has always been too in deep with Harry. One proper look at him would be enough to send her to her knees.

He’s her greatest weakness.

She needs to be alone.

Or, so he once thought.

“Have you been drinking?”

Y/n laughs in an almost sarcastic way, the side of her wrist pulling at the corner of her eye as she wipes away at her tears.

“Drinking, frying my brain with nicotine, crying my fucking eyes out.” Her lips tremble as she stuffles away a cry. “All of the above.”

Mitch frowns.

This behavior isn’t unusual for her — it hasn’t been since her marriage with Harry started to turmoil — but it never gets easier to witness.

It’s when she’s in the depths of her own hell that she depends on the intoxication to get her by, as if it numbed her from all the pain she’d be living with without it. And as hard as it is for him to admit it, she only ever feels this way whenever it comes to Harry.

This side of her never existed until she met him.

“You want to see him, don’t you?”

To see him. To touch him. To talk to him. To hold him. She wants it all, everywhere, for the rest of the night — for the rest of her life if he were to let her.

But she can’t get ahead of herself. She won’t be able to survive it if she does.

“Even if it’s just for a second.”

His heart falls.

“Will it get you to put down the drugs and alcohol?”

Her eyes linger at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, and though it still calls for her just as strongly, she knows it’s not what she truly wants.

“Yeah.”

She can hear him smile softly through the phone.

“Then hang tight, love. I’m on my way.”

-

Harry hasn’t been able to sleep all night.

And if he wanted to get technical, he supposes he hasn’t been able to sleep since he and Y/n nearly signed their marriage away, but tonight is far, far worse than anything else he’s ever felt.

His body senses his good days. The sun somehow brighter, the rain lighter, the clouds thinner — he sees it all so differently on the days he goes to see Y/n. He’s used to the routine, he looks forward to it all week, even if it is just to see her for a couple minutes at her doorway.

So to say his body feels the loss of her is an understatement.

He caught himself reaching his hand over to her side of the bed one too many times, only to shiver and whine when met with the emptiness of it. His fingers would squeeze at her pillowcase, hugging it closer to him, fantasizing about her smell and her feel as he tried to drift into his dreamland — that only, of course, consisted of her.

But it was helpless.

He moves to the living room couch, where he finds himself flipping through the photo album of their wedding day — the same one he claimed he had thrown out when Y/n asked if she could keep it, moments before she was about to move out after he had brought the divorce papers home.

Of course he hadn’t thrown it out, but he could never tell Y/n about the lies he only told to make himself feel better about his decision.

He was angry and he was hurt, both of which consumed him in the scariest and most dangerous of ways, leading him to sink his teeth in a lie and spitting it in her face just to make her feel all those things, too. Though he’s sure she already did.

But as he flips through the pages now, reliving that day torturously in his head, remembering how beautiful she looked and how in love he was, he can’t help but feel like these moments weren’t his to take.

He had kept their home — had kept the furniture they bought together when they first moved in, kept all the movies and cd’s they’d play together each night, kept all the pictures she had chosen for the walls and tables he hadn’t had a clue on how to decorate.

He stayed so perfectly in their past while she was forced to move on, away from him, when she wasn’t even the one who wanted to leave.

He had truly taken everything from her — her love, her trust, her marriage, her home — and he didn’t even have the decency to give her the one and only thing she had asked for before she left.

That day was hers, it always has been and it always will be. She never once gave up on it the way he once had, always holding it so close to her, always cherishing its moments.

This simply doesn’t belong to him.

He presses his forehead down to a picture of Y/n wildly smiling at the camera, her hair styled up, makeup slightly smudged, as if holding her to him. And he rubs his thumb along the laminate, right against her cheek, in the same way she always liked.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs out before he can try to reason that it’s not her, that she can’t hear him, that she can’t feel the way he’s holding and touching her right now, that he looks like a lovesick idiot for thinking this is anything close to the real thing.

None of that matters to him right now, though, as he holds the picture to him and realizes this is the closest he has been to her in so long. And she needs to know.

She just needs to know.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

-

Harry must have cried himself to sleep because the next thing he knows, his front door slams open against the foyer wall, julting him off of the photo album and leaving him with dry and confused eyes.

Without much of a second thought, he throws the photo album off his lap and stands frantically from the couch, his head twisting around in an attempt to follow the footsteps scurrying towards the living room.

He knows it’s her just from that sound alone.

“Y/n?” He calls out in question, still delusional from his sleeping state, wondering if he had even woken up at all.

But it’s when he sees her stumbling toward him with soaken and beaten eyes that he knows this isn’t just a dream — that she really is here, back in their home, with him at last. And he would be happy, would be so goddamn happy to have her in front of him again, if she didn’t look so broken.

He can’t stand the sight of her like this.

“Y/n?” He asks again, devastated.

But she doesn’t answer him. Rather, she does the one and only thing her mind can make sense of now that he’s in front of her again.

Her trembling hands cradle the back of his neck before pulling her to him, their lips meeting for a sloppy, drunken, frenzied kiss — one that nearly has Harry falling to his knees before her.

She pushes him onto the couch, barely giving him any time to compose himself before she sits herself down on his lap and kisses him again, hard — harder than before and harder than she ever has, she thinks.

Teeth clattering, tongues battling, mouths opening, lips smothering. It’s desperate and messy and sloppy, but she doesn’t want it any other way.

She knows this feeling. She wants this feeling. It’s what she keeps going back to because it’s safe and warm and familiar. She could be in the middle of nowhere, lost with no direction or any sense of belonging, yet the feel of his lips on hers would somehow make her feel at home, just the way she is.

She moans against him, her hands splayed on the back of his head and neck as if to keep him there — on her, with her.

His hands, however, don’t know where to go. They switch between her arms and her thighs, setting boundaries for himself because he’d give into her in a heartbeat if he were to touch her just right. And he’s already doing so much he shouldn’t, he’d ruin himself if he were to go any further.

So as a subtle way to slow it down, he drags his lips down to her chin before leaving open-mouthed kisses along the shape of her neck — devouring her taste, savoring the sweetness.

He’s missed this. He’s missed her, so much so he can’t even remember the reason he let it all go. Right now, in this moment, nothing seems worth it enough to ever give this up.

He can hardly think straight.

“Y/n, please don’t do this to me…” Harry whines against her collarbone, her touch and smell and feel overwhelming him beyond all forms of comprehension. “This isn’t you. We’ve been here before and —”

“And I want to make it right this time.”

He nearly cries.

He bites down gently on the base of her throat, nibbling at it, a strangled whine falling from his lips as his hands slither to her back, pushing his body up against hers as if to bring her closer. And he growls silently to himself as she starts grinding herself against him.

“Y/n —”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Baby…” He tries again, to which she giggles and smiles as she nibbles on the lobe of his ear. He gets lost in it for a moment — to hear her laugh, to feel her hands rub along his chest and up his neck, to have her so close, like nothing ever happened — but he snaps himself out of it just as quickly as he fell into it. “You’re drunk.”

He tries to reason, to make her see that he does want this, more than anything else in the world, but he can’t. Because if it were to happen again, he wants it to be real. He wants her to mean it, to need it, to be all in it with him the way he’s all in it with her.

He wants her to stay.

“I’m only drunk because I miss you so much.” She confesses breathlessly to him, to which he groans and throws his head back, as if he were in pain. “So give me what I want and nothing else will matter.”

His hands find purchase to her hips, his fingers squeezing at the flesh of them as he tries to steady the movement of her groin against his, desperate to hold himself together. But she makes it so hard when she knows exactly where and how to touch him — when she knows that he can never resist her all over him, begging for more.

His eyes are pinched forward and closed, his head still hanging off the edge of the couch, words seeming to fail him as she moans against his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the flesh of it as she works herself harder against him.

“Fuck, you know I want to.” He croaks out, his hands giving into their urge to wander every dip and curve and inch of her, even the places he shouldn’t. “You know I do.”

Good, she thinks. I want you to want it. I need you to want it. I want you to want it so bad you give it to me all night, all morning, all day. I need you to want me.

She lifts her head up from his shoulder so that she can look at him with a winning smirk, both of her hands fisting at the collar of his t-shirt to steady herself upon his lap, her movements now smooth and effortless, giving him everything he needs to give in.

He lets out a proper moan at this, allowing himself a moment of weakness to feed his undying greed.

His mouth hangs open and practically drools as he touches her in ways he’s been aching to, rubbing himself against her, allowing her lips to wander anywhere and everywhere they craved.

It all feels so good and all so right, he wishes it was enough to make things work, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Not now, at least.

“But I can't — I can’t take advantage of you. I — oh, fuck!” He yelps from below her when her arm sneaks between them so her fingers can scratch at the skin of his upper inner thigh, mercilessly giving him everything that has ever made him feel good.  

And it’s all too much.

One more right touch in the right place and he’s done for, as pathetic and weak as that makes him. But it’s only for her. Only for her does he find himself shuddering and moaning and creeping on the edge for, one push away from falling off, waiting to be caught by her.

After all this time, after all they had been through — all the fighting, all the tears, all the downs and lows they’ve lost themselves in — she still consumes him whole. She still is and forever will be the only person he’ll ever love like this.

There is nothing and nobody else. There is only her.

Which is why he can’t let himself do it. He can’t let her do it.

So right before he reaches the end, his hands frantically grab onto hers and pin them down against each side of his legs, her forehead meeting his shoulder, her body collapsing onto his.

“No!” He bites through clenched teeth and shut eyes, his hands squeezing hers as his body ricochets back to reality, yet still holding her close. “No, no, fuck. No.”

And whatever remained of Y/n’s heart burns to a crisp at that one godforsaken word.

Harry never denies her.

Even at their lowest and darkest moments, her simple touch made him powerless. He succumbed to her even when he told himself he wouldn’t, gave into her touch like a drug he couldn’t get off of no matter how hard he tried, drowned in her love even when he swore he no longer craved it.

It’s the very reason Y/n found herself pregnant in the midst of their downfall. Harry never stopped wanting her.

She should have known that everything was different now, but she never expected it to be like this.

“Oh.” Y/n’s lips tremble, her eyes wide with woe, glossy with burning tears as she looks at him through slow blinks. “I get it, I —”

“Y/n…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

She’s nearly sobbing now, her breaths heavy and frantic as she pushes herself away from him, practically falling off of his lap. And if his head wasn’t so clouded from what had just happened between them, he wouldn’t have let her go.

She’s a mess, a kind he’s never seen in her before and it breaks him in two when he sees her face soaked in tears, her hands trembling as they push her hair back, her eyes looking at everything but him.

He is just so sick of her looking away from him, and so tired of watching her cry.

He never wanted this.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Harry speaks softly, his hand reaching out to grab ahold of hers before she has the chance to walk out on him again. And the shock of his touch is enough to bring her right back to him. “Baby, this is your home more than it is mine. Your son is here, I am here, don’t ever think you have to be sorry for wanting to come home.”

She’s silent for a moment, trying to make sense of his words and what they mean. But it’s so hard to focus on anything other than how good it feels to be holding his hand, and how that’s all it took to get the room to stop spinning around her.

She trusts him.

Whatever he wants out of this and whatever he’s thinking, she trusts. Her body wouldn’t be so reliant on him if she didn’t. And it’s been years since she’s felt this feeling she feels so fiercely now, but she could never mistake it. It was once the most familiar feeling in the world to her.

He rubs at her knuckles, patiently waiting for her to respond. But she doesn’t, her gaze just drunkenly fixated at their intertwined fingers, a hint of longing in her eye.

Even when he’s right here, holding her, convincing her to stay… she still feels as though he isn’t all hers. She wants more of him, as if she hasn’t seen and touched and loved every inch of his body and claimed every last beat of his heart.

She is the only one and yet she feels as though she’ll never be enough for him, after all this time, after all these years spent together. It makes him feel like the worst person in the world.

He lifts her hand up to his lips, as delicate and gentle as possible, just the way she likes.

“And as for kissing me.” He adds, eyes looking up fondly at her as he kisses at her knuckles one by one. “You’re my wife, it’s what I want. I just don’t want us to make the same mistakes we once did.”

He settles her fingers against his mouth for a moment longer before pulling her closer to where he sits, looking insistently in her hopeful eyes.

“If we sleep together… it’ll only drive us more apart, just like it did the last time. And I swear to god —” he hangs his head off the edge of the couch again, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, trying to fathom the idea of it. “If I have to go another day without seeing you, I’m going to fucking lose it. I’m fucking miserable.”

She knows it’s true. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, sleeping together without speaking to one another would only bring them back to the same dark, numbing cycle they’ve been through for far too long now.

But she wants to milk it — wants him to do whatever he can to get her to stay because she needs to know he really wants it, needs to know he really wants her, before it’s too late.

And when Harry lifts his head back up to look at her, his heart nearly explodes from within him.

“Come here.” He tugs softly on her hand, a small smile playing on his lips when he sees Y/n pouting down at him with furrowed brows — the same face she used to make whenever she wanted to be angry with him, but couldn’t. It brings him back to all their happiest times. “Come here!”

He pulls her down to him until she lands on his lap, both of them laughing as she nearly trips over her own two feet.

The moment stills when their eyes meet, however, the giggling dying down and their smiles falling as they captivate each other with just a single look.

His fingers move her hair out of her face, his palm resting on the side of her cheek, his thumb rubbing along the skin of her blush as he admires just how beautiful she’s gotten since the last time he had seen her.

And she does the same to him — her fingers pulling at his hair, dancing along his scalp, humming in admiration as her eyes wander every dip and curve of his face. He is just so perfect, it endlessly mesmerizes her.

“I’ve missed you.” She confesses softly, her gaze trained on his lips, her tongue poking out to lick her own.

“I’ve missed you so much more, my love.”

And they meet for a kiss — a real kiss this time. Not the hungry, desperate, fevered kisses they’ve been sharing since their separation. It’s slow, their lips just settling against each other’s, refusing to move, only leaning in deeper when desired.

It’s how he kissed her on their wedding day.

She remembers how different it was, now, as she feels it again — full of vows and promises, hopes and dreams, a hint of sorrow for all the times he had let her down, and how he’d never wish to do it again.

Quite truthfully, she never wants it to end. She could stay pressed against his lips like this all night and never once get tired of it — would probably beg for more if it ever came down to it. But she doesn’t have to anymore, she knows that now.

They both pull away together, dopey and loopy smiles painted on their faces. And it doesn’t get better than this.

“Can I show you something?” He whispers to her, his thumb pets at her temple, circles and circles. “And know that when I give it to you, it’s me trying to make this right again? No matter how much it hurts?”

His breath falters when her lips press gently against his wrist, humming a small “mhm” against the skin of it.

She always did that whenever she could. Whether he be holding her cheek, or rubbing at her head, or running his fingers through her hair, her lips would seek just the smallest bit more of him. And it always warmed him to feel it. It reminded him that yes, she did in fact love him and want him and need him with the same burning he has for her.

It always felt too good to be true.

And to know that she’s feeling it all over again makes every worry in the world collapse around him, leaving him with nothing but the life he had always desired with her, and the hope that it only gets better from here.

He smiles in endearment, his own lips seeking the sole of her cheek before he turns his body to the fallen photo album, his fingers shaking as he reaches for it.

She gasps before he even has the chance to sit up fully.

“Is that —” she stops before she finishes, her hand flying over her suddenly trembling lips because it is.

He looks at her with eyes full of regret as he holds the photo album out for her to take, but she’s in too much shock. All she can process is that it’s here, still alive in the home they once shared, not shredded and burned and broken like she always thought it was.

And it just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that over a year ago, he told her a lie that ripped her apart from the inside out every day since he’d spoken it. It doesn’t matter that all she had left of their wedding were the moments captured in her memory, to which she went back to every night before bed.

It just doesn’t matter because she’s just so happy to see it again — so, so, so fucking happy that she can’t help but sob into her palm, admiring it, somehow at peace with the idea of reuniting with it with her husband right beside her, shedding the same tears as she is.

All she has ever wanted is happening all at once, and she couldn’t ask for more.

“Can we look through it?” She sniffles, her fingers graciously running along the cover of it.

He pulls her in closer, his head nodding, a breathy laugh of euphoria falling from his lips.

As if she even had to ask.

-

It was the next morning that Harry decided he couldn’t do it anymore.

Upon waking up to an empty bed, there wasn’t this overwhelming sense of sadness rippling through him, or loneliness drowning him to his duvets, refusing to set him free. It felt… right, and warm, and safe, and like it had always meant to be this way.

He was weightless as he carried his naked body over to his dresser, where he slipped on a new pair of briefs and one of his plain white t-shirts. He even found himself humming a tune he only ever sang to on good mornings.

And it was when he made his way downstairs that he started to hear his company.

He found Y/n in his day old t-shirt, holding Topher at her hip, flipping pancakes at the stovetop, humming and bouncing to the beat of a song they played during their wedding ceremony.

Her hair was unbrushed, her nail polish chipped, one of her socks pulled too high and the other too low, in her most hungover state. And the world stopped turning then, it seemed. Because it was the most simple and most casual sight to see, yet something he was once so blinded to.

He finally felt at home.

And it was as if nothing else had ever really, truly mattered. His world simply revolved around the two littles ones in his kitchen, getting their hands messy with pancake batter, giggling with every other step they took.

And he knew he couldn’t do it anymore.

Which is exactly how he ended up here — seven hours later, standing on one knee in front of his wife, whose hand fits so perfectly in his.

She sits cross-legged upon the kitchen chair, her plate half empty and on her second glass of her mocktail. And if he had more preparation, he would have taken her out instead of settling for her favorite home cooked meal. But something about doing this here, in the home they once shared together, at their happiest hour, feels much more real to him.

“H? What are you doing?” Y/n asks with wide eyes, looking down at their intertwined hands, squeezing onto his tighter.

“I know we’re already married, but I needed to do this anyway.”

He sucks in a breath as the pad of his thumb passes through her knuckles, slightly flicking her engagement ring in the process.

“When I left earlier, it wasn’t for work. I mean, it was for work but not — but not in the way you may think.”

Y/n tilts her head down at him, her eyebrows furrowed. Her heart races with all the endless possibilities, the pit in her stomach falling with it. And she really does try to not seem worried, but she can’t help but let it crash over her.

She had just gotten her husband back. Finally, she’s his and he’s hers and that’s all she ever wanted. That’s all she ever needed, so how is she expected to say goodbye so soon?

How would she ever survive it?

“I terminated the contract.”

Her heart stops beating.

Her body sits frozen still as Harry bites at his bottom lip, where he hides a smile.

This truly is it — the beginning of their forever, the start to the life they always wanted to share alone, with no distractions, no obligations, no anything besides each other and their child — and he doesn’t want it any other way.

“I’m done with having a career that takes me away from you. And I’m so sick and tired of pretending like this is the life I wanted to have with you. It wasn’t, baby. It isn’t.”

But she just can’t believe what she’s hearing.

The words had translated yet somehow, she can’t make sense of them. She can’t make sense of anything as her mind twists and turns around what they could mean and what it could mean for them as a couple.

“You — you terminated the contract? I don’t — I don’t understand. I —”

"If it were ever to come down to you or my music, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.” The fingers of his free hand twist at her wedding band, hypnotizing her. “I did it all for you — the writing, the touring, the traveling. My future with you was all I ever cared about and yet, I had somehow convinced myself that my music meant more to me, when it never really did.”

Her breaths get deeper and deeper, completely and utterly overwhelmed. And if it weren’t for the tears of happiness leaking from her eyes, Harry wouldn’t know what she’s truly feeling inside.

But he knows. Oh, how he knows.

“I choose you, Y/n. And I choose Topher and I choose our Alaskan home everyday for the rest of our lives. That’s what I choose. That’s what I will always choose.”

It’s those words that make her really start to lose it.

How long she had been waiting for this moment, she can’t even remember anymore. So much time has passed and yet everyday, she dreamed and hoped and prayed and died to hear him say that to her.

She had been waiting for so long, she once believed them to be impossible.

But here he is on one knee again, sacrificing his entire life and heart and soul just to make their marriage right. He wants to leave the music behind rather than leaving her to be all alone. He wants to move away from the life he had built for himself and rather spend the rest of it with her.

He wants her, for the first time in what feels like centuries, he finally wants her.

“But — but you — how? How did you — what did you do?”

“Don’t worry about the how, okay? What matters is that I made it work and I have more than enough to last our family a lifetime. I promise you that.”

One of her hands reaches forward to cup at his cheek, pulling herself closer to him because she needs to feel him, all of him — needs to feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath.

She needs it all, all around her, until she drowns in it.

“Don’t care about the money, just — just want to make sure you’re okay.”

His wife is reaching for him, pulling him in, wanting and loving him despite everything he put her through… how could he not be okay?

He’s on top of the world right now.

“Baby, I’m so much more than okay. I have you, don’t I?” She nods her head as she wipes her tears away, sniffling with trembling lips and shaking hands. “Then that’s all I need.”

She sobs against him, her face tucked in his shoulder as he holds her hands between them, kissing at her head.

And sometime in the near future — when Harry and Y/n have found everything they had lost, have grown to be better together than ever spent apart, and have become the best parents they could ever be to their son — he’ll rent out a small venue in the outskirts of town and renew his wedding vows to his wife, whom he plans to never be parted from, even in death.

“So, Y/n, baby love.” They both giggle at the pet name, her head lifting from his shoulder and meeting his eye halfway. “Will you please do the honors of being my lawfully wedded wife, and the mother of our disgustingly perfect child, in our home in Alaska? Forever?”

She nods her head, her thoughts clouded by euphoria, her hand still in her husband’s.

As if he even had to ask.

[saturnsummer]

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

[kitchenscene]

For the prompts mellow + under the stars

canis major mellow + under the stars ___________________

Out in the backyard, the breeze blows through, but still, he’s warm with his back pressed to Buck’s chest, slotted between his legs, Buck propped up on one elbow, his other arm wrapping around Eddie’s waist. It’s a weight he could never tire of carrying. Chris has long since gone off to bed, the night sky easing in, replacing the golden sunset. The two of them alone, tangled together in the grass under the watchful eye of the night.

Together, that’s how it always is. Him and Buck, together. It took months for Eddie to truly believe he could have this, to believe he could be held, be loved in a way he’d never been before. Months of restraint, too scared to ask for what Buck would happily offer. Hesitant to initiate, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Tonight he believes. It’s easy, the way he reaches towards Buck, the way Buck always reaches back.

The back porch lights are all shut off, leaving them under a dark sky and a distant moon. It’s a warm summer, the dragonflies dance above. Two circle around each other, swooping higher and higher. They settle in a tree, branches swaying as they land. Beyond them lies the stars, muted by the city lights, but fighting past the darkness regardless. The brightest of them shine, urging the rest to follow suit.

read on ao3

“That one looks like a cow,” Buck squints and points towards the sky, lifting his hand from around Eddie’s waist. He tilts his head to follow his hand, leading towards the Big Dipper.

Eddie laughs. “It’s Ursa Major.”

“Not a cow?”

“Bear,” he confirms, “Not a cow.”

Quietly, he huffs, “Eh, close enough.” Eddie feels every word as he speaks, rattling through his chest, softly spoken observations resonating in his head. The hum is like a lullaby, tired eyes becoming heavy under the black sky. “That one looks like a dog,” Buck points again.

“This isn’t cloud gazing,” he laughs softly, “you can’t just make up shapes.”

He bends down to catch Eddie’s eye. Eddie tilts up in return. “The ancient Greeks are allowed to make up shapes, but I’m not?”

“Yes,” he laughs, smiling up to Buck. He reaches up to grab Buck’s hand, pulling it back down to his chest, resting over his heart. One beat, two beats, skip, skip, skip. He traces over his knuckles, his bones and veins, mapping every movement, every patch of skin, where scars smooth over into calluses and scratches fade with time.

“Well, is it a dog?” he grins expectantly.

He shakes his head. “It’s a lion. Leo.”

Buck glances back up and huffs. “There’s no way that’s a lion.”

Eddie laughs at his disbelief. “A dog is believable but a lion isn’t?”

“It’s not like the Greek philosophers were hanging out with lions,” he turns back down to look at Eddie, “how would they know?”

He looks up to the sky, watching the stars glimmer. The sky’s too dark to see all the stars, making the constellations emptier than they should be. Missing dots, connecting lines barely visible, it’s nearly impossible to make out the shapes. Still, it’s entertaining to watch him try.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you there is a dog constellation,” Eddie offers, “you just can’t see it right now?”

Buck raises a brow at him, nose wrinkling. “Since when do you know so much about the constellations?”

It’s a more complicated answer than it should be. Part of it is because of Chris and his fondness for space. Most of it is his own childhood interest, peeking out the windows on sleepless nights, memorizing whichever stars appeared on the horizon. Library books and planetariums showed him the brightest points of the sky, connecting the dots, forming patterns.

“Chris had a pretty big space phase right before we left Texas,” he says, half a truth. He forgot most of the constellations over the years, Chris brought the lost knowledge back to him. “I spent about a week reading nothing but space books.”

“Did you guys ever go stargazing?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, soft, reminiscing, “The stars were a lot brighter there. Los Angeles is too bright to really stargaze.”

In El Paso, they had the stars, more often than not peering through. Even through the clouds, he could see the stars. Los Angeles brings empty skies. It’s an easy trade; he’d take a lifetime of empty skies if it meant he could watch them with Buck.

“We should take a weekend some time. Leave the city, go somewhere with less light pollution,” Buck suggests. “We could go camping. I think Chris would love it.”

One beat, two beats, his heart swells at the offer, the ease with which it was made. The three of them, a unit. A family vacation. Buck would surely hunt down the best campsite, something scenic. Full of wildlife and swaying trees, easy hikes and cozy campfires. Something tells him Buck lacks the patience to roast a marshmallow, letting them burn and peeling away the charred sugar, only to let it burn again.

“Yeah?” he asks, barely audible. He squeezes Buck’s hand tighter, “you promise?” laced between their fingers.

“Yeah,” he whispers a soft confirmation. “The two of you can tell me all about the stars.”

The stars twinkle in response, inviting them in. He would rename each and every star for Buck if he could, giving him his very own constellation. Gone goes Hercules and Orion, the brightest stars would be given to him, glowing even on the lightest nights.

In the dark, perhaps, on their camping trip, they may finally see Venus. Or Saturn and Mercury, forming a line across the horizon. The red glow of Mars may make an appearance, a single speck in the night, or maybe just the flashing lights of passing planes. Chris will argue with him when Eddie insists that it’s a UFO, Buck happily playing along with the charade. “It’s flying, and you don’t know what it is, therefore it’s a UFO.”

Satellites and shooting stars, space stations and constellations. They could see them all, together, counting the spaces in between, piecing together the sky like a puzzle, slotting into place.

He counts Buck’s breaths, the rise and fall of his chest against Eddie’s head. Right here in the backyard, he could sleep easy against him. His arm, still supporting both their weights, surely uncomfortable. Buck makes no effort to move him, content to let it go numb.

“That one looks kinda like a scorpion,” Buck points. He drags Eddie’s hand along so he can see where he’s pointing. “And that’s the tail, right there,” he traces the outline. Another breeze passes through, brushing against their hands.

“That’s Draco, I think. But down there,” Eddie drags their hands downward, tracing the horizon, “that’s a scorpion.”

“You have to be lying to me,” he laughs, dropping their hands back to Eddie’s chest, “what part of that is a scorpion?”

“Then what is it?” Eddie asks, twisting their fingers. Buck lifts his hand once again to point, giving a new name to every shape in the sky. He traces new outlines, “that’s a tree,” and, “that’s definitely a dragon, are you kidding me? There’s a Pegasus constellation, but not a dragon?” Eddie lets him draw out his own star map, picking and choosing his own North star, his guiding light. Dogs and dragons, forests of new identities.

Head against Buck’s chest, Eddie lets him rewrite the stars.

all word + place prompt fills can be found here

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Go in Shadows

Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, angst, eventual smut. Word count: tbc

Summary: Summers spent with her best friend, Helaena, are the highlight of her year. However, a week-long stay at her place does not go as she expects it to when surrounded by one Targaryen brother that she pines for unrequitedly, and another that can't seem to stand her.

Author's note: Happy birthday @lauraneedstochill! You may remember a little while ago I sent you an ask that was prodding you for info on your favourite fan fiction tropes - I had an agenda! I remember you saying you don't look forward to your birthday, so I wanted to do something special for you. I didn't get the chance to finish this before I went on holiday, but wanted to show you a teaser of what's to come! Hope you enjoy your day, birthday twinnie <3

The grass tickles delicately at the backs of her bare thighs, causing her to squirm and change position, pulling the hem of her floral summer dress lower as she crosses her legs. It’s a hot and sunny Friday afternoon in July, and she’s making the most of her four day working week by spending her day off in the park with her best friend, Helaena.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, from the six week long holidays of secondary school to the three month university breaks, and now the stolen afternoons and all too brief weekends of the working week. Helaena has been at her side for all of them. Summer is their time, a season in which their friendship has always thrived, fortified beneath a sun that never sets.

Helaena pauses, keeping the daisy chain she’s making in her hands still as she leans forward ever so slightly, watching intently at the wasp that buzzes around the open bottle neck of Koppaberg Cider that rests beside her, the heat of the day causing droplets of moisture to sweat from the glass.

“That’s going to drown in your cider, if you aren’t careful,” she warns her.

“Mmm,” Helaena muses dreamily, her eyes never leaving the wasp. “It wants the sugar.”

She watches for a few more moments, before it flies away, and then her attention turns back to her daisy chain, her numb nail piercing through the stem of the flower, before threading another through.

“Did your annual leave get approved for next week?” Helaena asks, blue eyes lifting from the floral chain in her hands to look at her hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she says excitedly, before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the way the sweet, berry flavour fizzes against her tongue. “So, what’s the plan?”

It’s not a question she really even needs to ask. It’s the same every year; Alicent takes a week-long trip to Oldtown to visit her father, Otto, and ever since Helaena was considered old enough to no longer accompany her, she stays behind, and the kids are left with a free house. She stays for the entire week, the house large enough that it feels like a holiday without needing to leave King’s Landing. They enjoy seven unsupervised days of swimming in the pool, raiding the fridge, and the inevitable rowdy and out of control parties that Helaena’s older brother, Aegon, insists upon throwing.

And therein lies the real reason she’s asking; to check which of the brothers will be in attendance. She has fancied Aegon for as long as she can remember, though he has never given her a second look beyond viewing her as his younger sister’s best friend. She exists in his shadow, laughing at all of his jokes, living for every thousand watt smile he casts her way, overlooking his often drunken, reckless behaviour, and pretending she doesn’t feel a burning sense of envy at the seemingly never ending rotation of girls he goes out with. His shadow seems to be where she is destined to remain forever, desperate to experience the warmth of his attention turned to her even once. The unrequited feelings weigh heavy upon her heart, tormenting her with soaring hope and devastating reality in equal measure.

As if able to read her mind, Helaena sighs. “Aegon’s going to be there…and Aemond too.”

She groans at this. Helaena’s younger brother, another bane of her existence, though for a completely different reason to Aegon. Aemond genuinely seems to loathe her, actively going out of his way to avoid her, refusing to even look at her if they’re in the same room. His responses are curt, bordering upon rudeness when she has tried previously to engage him in conversation, and so she has given up, taking to ignoring him just as he does to her, though it does not come as naturally to her as it does him. She feels her skin prickle in his presence, fidgeting uncomfortably at the shift in energy in the room whenever he enters. Back in secondary school, she had made an attempt to forge a bond with him, by approaching him with the history essay she was due to hand in, and asking for him to take a look at it in case there were any improvements he thought she could make.

Aemond had scoffed as he’d looked it over, sliding the papers back across the table towards her with a harsh flick of his wrist. “Derivative,” he’d commented dismissively. “The point you’re trying to make is too diffuse for you to adequately summarise it. If you were to improve it, you’d simply have to rewrite it.”

She had walked away holding back tears, bitterly regretting her decision to attempt to extend an olive branch. When the essay had been given back to her she had been awarded an A grade, which made Aemond’s comments even more baffling to her.

“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “assuming he’ll have Alys to keep him busy?”

Helaena gives a solemn shake of her head. “They aren’t together anymore, so please try to be nice to him.”

She looks at Helaena incredulously. “Be nice to him?! Hel, Aemond hates me!”

“He doesn’t,” she replies with a gentle certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she huffs, swigging from her cider bottle once more.

“I do, actually,” Helaena utters, before turning her attention back to her daisy chain.

She feels that Helaena infuriates her almost as much as her brothers do sometimes. Bloody Targaryens.

A week later, her out of office is on and her bags are packed.

Helaena takes her bags, depositing them into an entryway closet to deal with later, the moment she steps through the door of the house, ushering her into the kitchen.

“Want to chop some stuff for me?” She asks. “I’m going to make a jug of Pimm’s for us all to drink by the pool.”

“Us all?” She asks, moving towards the chopping board on the kitchen side, where an assortment of strawberries, mint and cucumber has been set out, ready to be cut up.

“Yeah,” Helaena says, opening a cupboard and rummaging inside of it. “Me, you…Aemond, and Aegon…Aegon’s friend…”

Helaena’s voice tapers off as she pulls a glass jug from a shelf, her gaze turning towards the kitchen doorway.

She looks up from where she has been quartering a strawberry, her grip around the knife handle tightening subconsciously as she takes in the sight of Aegon standing there. But it’s not Aegon that is the issue, it’s the pretty brunette that’s standing next to him.

“Just wondering what’s taking so bloody long with the Pimm’s?” He asks, glancing between her and Helaena. “Are you fermenting the gin from scratch?”

“Hel was waiting for me to arrive,” she offers as a meek explanation, feeling her skin grow warm as he looks at her. “Hi, by the way.”

He fires off a mock salute at her, the casual gesture making her insides wither with disappointment. She was a fool to have expected anything more.

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl standing next to him pipes up with a cheerful smile, “nice to meet you.”

Aegon startles, as if suddenly realising she’s there, turning to look at Cassandra quickly before facing back towards her and Helaena.

“Oh yeah, Cass is gonna be staying for the week. Her brother’s brewery is supplying us with the kegs for Saturday.”

Cassandra nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Royce owns Storm’s End brewery, he’s gonna sort us out with the beer for the party.”

“Lovely,” she says with a tight smile, lowering her eyes back to the chopping board and slicing into a cucumber with more aggression than is necessary. 

“Why don’t you go and get comfy by the pool, Cass,” Aegon says, ushering her away with a smack on the bottom. “I’ll make sure these two hurry the fuck up with the drinks.”

Helaena’s eyes narrow once Cassandra is out of earshot, looking at Aegon as she empties a full bottle of Pimm’s into the glass jug. “You’re sleeping with one of the Baratheon sisters to get free beer? That’s low even for you.”

Aegon shrugs with a smirk. “I’m not above schmoozing for booze, Hel.”

“You’re a pig,” she retorts softly, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of lemonade. “What about what happened with Floris and Aemond?”

Aegon snorts derisively, leaning against the doorframe. “They only kissed.”

“And then she stalked him afterwards…”

“The week of a thousand texts!”

“Fifty seven to be precise. You remember, right?” She asks, turning to her friend for back up.

“Yeah, didn’t Aemond ghost her because she used the incorrect version of ‘your’ in a message?”

Helaena nods. “Yes, that was mean, and she didn’t deserve that. But sending someone so many texts when they clearly aren’t going to reply is a bit…” She wrinkles her nose. “...overbearing.”

“And she left him a five minute long voicemail,” Aegon titters.

“Yeah, you’re a pig,” Helaena insists, sloshing lemonade into the Pimm’s.

“Oh well. Hurry up!” Aegon demands with a clap of his hands, before walking away.

She hands Helaena the chopping board, now laden with chopped up garnishes and watches as she scrapes it into the jug, before stirring it.

Looking up, Helaena takes in the pained expression of her friend, her face softening. “Trust me, as Aegon’s sister, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” she quips unconvincingly, moving away to fetch glasses from another cupboard. “He’s just messing around.”

“I just think if you’re looking for someone who genuinely cares about you, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, taking down five glass tumblers from the shelf.

“Just…don’t close yourself off to other possibilities.”

Helaena takes the jug and heads outside to the pool, before she has a chance to respond.

Always so cryptic. It’s infuriating.

To her horror, as she heads out into the garden, glasses gripped between her fingers, Helaena has set herself up on the sun lounger on the furthest end, leaving the only one free between her and Aemond.

She sets the glasses down on the patio table, next to the Pimm’s jug and takes a moment to steel herself, before heading over. Wordlessly, she lays down on the sun lounger, trying to suppress the unease that ripples beneath her skin at the imposing figure of Aemond next to her. His sun lounger has its back propped up, and he sits bolt upright, long silver hair pulled up into a bun and a pair of black Ray Bans perched upon the bridge of his aquiline nose as he reads a philosophy book.

Pretentious twat.

“Aemond, pour us all some Pimm’s,” Helaena says lazily, leaning back on her lounger and propping an arm above her head.

His brow furrows momentarily before he responds. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to help out with our gathering yet.”

“It’s your gathering,” he retorts, “I just happen to live here. I’m not an active participant.”

She sighs, not wanting to listen to any more of their bickering. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“No, I will,” Aemond snaps, standing abruptly and setting his book down, before storming over to the table.

“Christ, what a prick,” she mutters to herself as she watches him go.

Full fic coming Monday. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 7]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, fingering, daddy!kink, dirty talk, ‘cuz you can touch touch me~ 😏 ur gonna need to imagine headband/bandana wearing left&right cheol for this cuz that’s the fantasy i was imagining for this chapter the entire time i was writing it hehe 🍒 quick apologies to anyone who thinks this is moving a little slow 😩 I literally don’t know how to shut up and I end up writing too much LMAO and as always, thank you for the continued interest! Have a great weekend bbys! 💕 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $400

therealchan99: yea this is about right on course

dom.cheol: what, did u miss me? 😏

gentleman_josh95: loosely

chwenon: more like the obscenely large donations were missing lolol

You jokingly roll your eyes, exhaling deeply as you push your toys off to the side of the bed. You’d just finished your Saturday show without a hitch, albeit feeling a little lonely. “Aww, c’mon you guys! Don’t tease~” Glancing around the room, it did feel a little odd to you now that Seungcheol wasn’t there but he had called earlier in the day and told you that it might’ve been better if he stayed back.

In truth, you understood exactly how he felt.

Part of you was ready to throw all caution out of the window when it came to Seungcheol and he felt it too. But at the same time, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy and that there were still things that the two of you needed to discuss before deep diving into intimacy, especially when it came to powerplay.

kitty_junjun: hey dont take this in a weird way but like

kitty_junjun: i feel like i saw u earlier today…

universe_WZ: ooo i never thought abt that before

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

xcaliburDK: have ppl recognized u irl before? :o

dom.cheol: i feel like i might’ve seen u irl before too…

Your cheeks bloom a hot pink; a nervous giggle on your lips. “Oh! I mean, yeah, there’s been a handful of times. I’ll wear wigs out sometimes though. Can’t have people calling me out in a grocery store, y’know?”

kitty_junjun: wait so maybe i did see u? I dont wanna give out locations tho…

“Maybe! I’m still out on my little weekend trip and I was out and about earlier~ if you see me next time, don’t hesitate to say hi! I promise I don’t bite~” You pause, leaning closer into the webcam as you wink.

“Unless you want me to~”

You start running a bath right after you end your show, stretching and turning on some music as you start to unwind. Thankfully you didn’t have a tiring show today, so you decided to take the rest of the night to pamper yourself in preparation for your day with Seungcheol.

Biting your lip, you pick up your phone, already seeing a multitude of messages from Seungcheol on your lockscreen.

cheollie ✨: don’t forget ur glass of water!

cheollie ✨: also don’t forget i’m picking you up at 9:30am

cheollie ✨: hope ur ready to spend all day at the roller rink with me baby

You can’t help but grin, already excited to see how Seungcheol spent his day at work. Typing a response, you quickly hit send before setting your phone down onto the nightstand and making your way to the bathroom.

‘I can’t wait! I’m so excited~ u promised me free skates and free food so don’t forget!!’

It’s exactly 9:29AM when Seungcheol messages you that he’s downstairs.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down your dress and hair and grabbing your bag before you rush down to meet Seungcheol. 

There’s a mild feeling of nervousness that pours over you, but you quickly shake it off once you see his blue headed figure standing outside of the lobby.

“‘Cheollie!”

He turns around to face you just as you stop in your tracks; gasping when you see the cute way he’s styled his hair for today. “Whoa… wow, uh, j-just.. Wow. You look great in bandanas...”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes forming crescents. “I don’t usually work the weekends so I thought I’d spice it up a little. Guess it looks good?” You can only nod shakily, mentally cursing yourself when you feel the arousal already pooling inside your body. He winks at you once, opening the passenger’s side door as you slide into his car.

“Hope you’re ready to have a boring day at the roller rink with me.” He gives you a tight lipped smile, shutting your door before he rounds the car to get in on the driver’s side.

“I’m telling you, it’s not going to be… y’know, anything crazy.”

“Who says it has to be! I’m excited to see where you work and anyway you promised!” You tease, poking him in the arm as he starts the car. “I know, I know… I just---I don’t want you to be disappointed. I bet you thought I was some rich old hotshot before, huh?” Seungcheol shoots you a glance, smiling gently.

“Mmm.. not really.”

“No? You didn’t think I was some lonely CEO with loads of money with a thing for camgirls?”

You laugh at his response, placing your hand over his on the gear shift.

“Nah, if there’s anything I thought about you, it was that you were way too nice to be on some camming website.”

The two of you have idle conversation as Seungcheol takes his time to drive to the roller rink. In all honesty, he was a little nervous himself, although he’d never say it to your face.

“Oh my god, is that it?! It’s so cute!”

He parks close to the entrance, turning the car off as he jogs over to your side to help you out. “‘Cheol, you know you don’t have to be so sweet~” You pout, latching onto his arm as he locks the car.

“Oh but I do. You deserve to be spoiled once in a while!”

A blush coats your cheeks yet again, shy eyes fixated on the floor as he walks you towards the entrance. “Yeah, but all you ever do is spoil me… That sybian was no joke and my god, Seungcheol, the price! I almost had half a mind to return it…” You end in a mumble. Seungcheol laughs, opening the door for you as you unlatch from his arm and step in first.

“You’re worth spoiling. Now stop worrying, okay? I promise I’m not up to anything illegal in order to afford your gifts.” Giggling, you lean up to kiss him on the cheek, nodding firmly.

“Fiiiiine, I trust you, y’know?”

“I know, baby. I trust you too, now let’s go meet my best friend who’s going to play butler for you today.”

He leads you over to the concession stand where an equally tall yet bored male stands. “Hey, Jeongguk!” The said male looks up from his phone, eyebrow quirking when the two of you walk up. “Uh, hey Seungcheol-hyung…” Seungcheol feels a weird tenseness fall over the three of you, clearing his throat to get Jeongguk’s attention when he finds the younger male staring.

“Um, this is my friend. She’s---uh, she’s gonna be hanging out here for the rest of the day. I promised her that you’d give her free food, so uh, just--just let me know how much it is so I can tell Namjoon to take it out of my paycheck.” Jeongguk grins, a sly look in his eyes when he finally meets Seungcheol’s concerned eyes.

“Sure! Can I talk to you over there? It’s about our paychecks actually.” Jeongguk turns to you, leaning over the counter. “Sorry, employee only info, ch--uuuuuh, you know the deal.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Jeongguk points off to the side, gesturing to Seungcheol who follows suit.

The younger male makes sure they’re a safe distance away, watching as you pluck your phone out of your purse before he starts talking in harsh whispers. “What the fuck, dude!? You’re---no, you’re not fucking Cherry. She doesn’t have a boyfriend so what the fuck?”

The blood drains from Seungcheol’s face; the feeling in his fingers going numb as his throat goes dry. “Wuh--what? What are you---what are you talking about?” Jeongguk scoffs, eyes rolling jokingly.

“So, hyung, how do you know her?”

“You’re asking me?! How do you know her!?” Seungcheol’s eye twitches just as Jeongguk shoots him an incredulous look, arms crossed in mock annoyance. “I’m a horny boy, what can I say.”

“Please do not ever use those words to describe yourself again.”

The younger male stands in silence, nodding in thought.  

“Fuck, wow, I should’ve noticed. All those extra shifts you were taking, the reason why you could never come hang… You don’t like working here as much as Yoongi-hyung but you--holy---holy shit, wait--you… you can’t be…”

Fuck, here it comes.

“You’re fucking ‘dom.cheol’ aren’t you? You’re the one always leaving her insane fuckin’ donations all the time… and the gifts.. Oh my god. The ‘cheol’ was from Seungcheol, I should’ve known...”

Seungcheol dies a million deaths inside his head; the ringing in his ears becoming unbearable while Jeongguk stares at him in mild disbelief. “It all clocks out, holy fuck. No wonder you were so fucking eager to pick up so many extra shifts…” Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure what to say.

“I mean, fuck hyung, I--I’m kind of impressed but wow. You think you know a guy, huh?” Jeongguk laughs, patting the older male on the shoulder. “She’s only one of the hottest camgirls out there right now. You’re a lucky man, hyung.”

A weird possessiveness washes over Seungcheol, hands gently balling up into fists at his side. “Okay, well, she… she’s just here to chill, alright? Don’t do anything weird. And most of all, don’t say anything weird either.” The younger male nods, already walking back to where you were standing.

“Hey, sorry, hyung’s paycheck is gonna be pretty sad next week and I had to let him down gently. Anyway, I’m Jeongguk. You are?”

You give him a fake name; shaking his hand over the counter as he grins at you.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You spend the first two hours on the floor skating; catching Seungcheol’s eyes on you from time to time as he sits nearby cleaning skates. The place seemed pretty empty, which was something that Seungcheol was immensely glad for.

Eventually you skate off out of the rink, making your way to Seungcheol who smiles at you when you come sit next to him. “Told you. Bored already, huh?” The two of you share a laugh, watching as the few other people continue to skate around the rink.

“I mean… it’s different! Right about now I’d usually be six episodes into a new series or something… It’s nice to be somewhere else and doing something different.”

He nods in return, slightly pouting when he turns to face you. “I hate that you have to go home tonight.” You mirror his sentiments, lips quirking into a sad smile.

“I know… I don’t wanna go home…”

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting over to Jeongguk. “Hey, maybe we can bail a little early. This place is pretty dead anyway, and I--I can have Jeongguk clock me out when he leaves. My shift is supposed to end at 3PM and it’s noon now so… We can leave in a hour? Maybe get a late lunch?”

“Seungcheol… I don’t want you to get in trouble…” You mumble, brows furrowing in concern. “Really, it’s okay! We can just hang here ‘til then and still have time to get dinner!” He sighs, knowing you were right. Now was not the right time to be testing the waters with Jeongguk and Namjoon.

“Okay, okay, you win, baby.”

It takes 45 minutes.

45 minutes and a free drink from the concession stand before your mind starts wandering.

You watch Seungcheol converse with Jeongguk behind the concession stand; his cute laugh sending you into orbit when your eyes meet and you can’t stop the thrums of lust pouring over your body when a certain idea pops into your head.

Seungcheol turns his attention back to the younger male and you quickly start to unlace your skates and put your normal shoes back on before Seungcheol’s entire break gets taken up. 

You walk up to the two; Seungcheol cleaning off his hands before he exits from behind the counter.

“Seungcheol…” You softly call out; a look of concern crossing his features when he stops in front of you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, mmhmm! I just--I need to talk to you, if that’s okay?” Jeongguk already turns to leave, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You drag Seungcheol away, tugging him towards an even emptier part of the roller rink as the concern builds up inside of him. “I have an idea.” He feels himself gulp, already anticipating what you have to say.

“And…?”

“Well… It’s… It won’t t-take long I don’t think, just… hear me out?” You question gently, head tilting cutely up at Seungcheol who already knows he can’t say no to you. “Okay, shoot.”

“Wh--what if we… film a small POV v-video… like, not a live one! Just a small upload on my channel to test the waters maybe? I just---you don’t have to say anything and--and it’ll be quick, and--and like, nothing major just a little, um, f-fingering and--oh my god, sorry, I shouldn’t have a-asked, that’s just---I’m s-sorry I was thinking about it and it kinda got to me and I’m---I’m kinda already wet just thinking about it and--”

“No, let’s… let’s do it. To be fair, people seem to like risqué public things like that right?” A crimson blush falls on Seungcheol’s cheeks as he turns the tables, wrapping a hand around your wrist as he walks you to the employee restroom. “It’s… there shouldn’t be anyone in here so we should be safe.” He mutters, checking to make sure before he ushers you inside and locks the door behind him.

“I don’t know what to do so you’ll have to guide me a little here, baby.”

You nod, pulling your phone out and opening the camera app. Scrolling, you put it in video mode, clicking the red button before passing it to Seungcheol. “I’ve never done it either but I’m sure I can just… crop it and I m-mean it’s meant to be a little shoddy, right?” You giggle nervously, body already on fire when Seungcheol makes the camera face you. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with your voice being in the video, I just need… this.”

You reach for his free hand, playing with it as you run your fingertips across the veins. “I’m sorry, daddy… I just… I couldn’t help but think about your fingers inside my tight pussy...” Seungcheol almost loses his grip on your phone; palm clammy when he watches as you bring his hand underneath your short dress.

“Please… please, won’t daddy fuck me with his fingers? I promise I’ll be good for the rest of the day if he lets me cum on his fingers…” You whine.

Seungcheol isn’t ready to have his voice heard yet, so he nods, fingers twitching in your hold.

You take this as an okay to continue, dragging his hand up until his knuckles graze your panties. “O-oh, fuck…”

This time Seungcheol takes the lead; his own body ablaze when he can already feel your wetness soaking through your panties. He presses into it, digging his fingers into the wet material until it sticks to you like a second skin. “D-daddy, please, please, put them inside, I need it!!” You mewl, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible while still being audible enough on camera.

He shoots you a look; one that tells you to hike your dress up until your soaking panties are seen through the camera lens. And you easily follow, holding your dress up as Seungcheol drops to his knees, angling the camera upwards until only his fingers and your clothed pussy are in view. You spread your legs a little more, back resting on the wall behind you.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer…”

He gulps once, saying a prayer before he slowly pushes your panties to the side. And you all but lose any semblance of sanity the second he runs his fingertips through your wetness, pussy clenching around emptiness. “Fuck--fuck me, please!”

Once Seungcheol deems his fingers wet enough, his eyes meet yours, asking for silent consent before he makes any further moves. You nod frantically, fingers gripping the material of your dress tightly.

Seungcheol bites his lip the second he starts sinking his first finger into your tight warmth; already feeling the drool pooling in his mouth when you moan loudly. He starts a slow pace, mentally noting just how obscenely wet you are when he drags his finger out slowly. “Ngh, daddy m-more, please, I can take it, I wanna be f-full~” He gives it a few more thrusts of his index finger before he adds his middle finger; this time slowly sinking both digits into your pussy as you whimper above him.

His eyes flit up, mesmerized when he sees your face contort in bliss. “O-oh my god, I’m--I’m already so close… Daddy’s fingers are so much bigger and thicker than mine, it fuh--feels so good…” You mutter; squirming when Seungcheol doesn’t move.

And it takes him a second; too fixated on the way your tight walls only seem to suck his fingers in deeper.

But he starts a moderate pace, scissoring and curling his fingers inside of you until you’re reduced to whines and soft breathy moans.

He can already feel you getting tighter around his fingers after a few more minutes; doubling his pace when you start to beg.

“Oh my god, oh my god, ‘m so close, fuck! P-please touch my clit, daddy, please make m-me c--cum!”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his pants but he focuses on you, thumb immediately on your clit as he rubs harsh and quick circles on the swollen nub. He doesn’t know how much time has passed or if his break is over, but the look of absolute pleasure on your face is enough to make him not care.

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, holding them still as he continuously rubs your clit until you’re cumming; thighs shaking as you let out shaky breaths above him.

“Oh m-my god, daddy!” You mumble in a hurried frenzy, thighs clamping around his hand between your legs as the pleasure washes over you.

Seungcheol lets you ride out your high, gently wiggling his fingers inside of you as he starts to slow down.

“Mmh… Seungcheol…”

Oh fuck.

He definitely liked it when you moaned his name. 

“Y-yes…?” It’s his cue to turn off the camera, shaky finger pressing the ‘stop’ button. He gently slides his fingers out of you, muttering an apology when you wince.

“You don’t have to say sorry! It’s just… ‘m sensitive…” You mewl, already missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Y-yeah, of course! I, um, I hope that was okay? I’ll give you a second to get cleaned up, I’ll uh, run and get you some water.”

You nod in response, thanking him before he quickly washes off his hands and bolts out of the restroom; ears and cheeks redder than a tomato.

Once you’re alone, you quickly open your camera roll, clicking on the video as you hurriedly crop out the beginning and end, making sure that the short video didn’t have any incriminating details before you open up your camming homepage.

There’s a moment of unsureness that makes you pause. You bite the inside of your cheek, weighing the potential outcomes of posting this to your page. 

But before you can change your mind, you quickly start the upload; adding a title and a short description before you lock your phone to let it process.

In the meantime, you get cleaned up, checking your appearance in the mirror once before picking up your phone again. Unlocking it, you find the upload has finished and you exhale sharply, publishing the video before locking the device again.

You move to exit the restroom, already finding Seungcheol holding a bottle of water on the other side.

“Oh, there you are! Everything okay?”

“Mmhmm! I uploaded the video before I could change my mind so I’m a little nervous…” You trail off, accepting the bottle that Seungcheol passes you.

“Well, the good news is, we’re bailing, now. I told ‘Guk to clock me out so we should get out of here so I can get your mind off of that.”

He shoots you a genuine smile, offering his hand which you take.

“Let’s fuckin’ get some ice cream, I think we deserve it.”

Seungcheol takes you on a scenic drive, taking you to an ice cream shop further away from town.

The two of you sit down in a booth towards the back of the shop and he helps clear your head, talking about various topics to keep your mind off of the huge risk you’d just taken.

“Anyway, that’s one of the reasons why I’m never bar-hopping with ‘Guk again. He’s got no limit, nobody can keep up and nobody wants to keep paying the uber fees.” You laugh as Seungcheol finishes his story, taking a sip of your milkshake.

You can’t help but sigh after a few seconds, pouting at Seungcheol who blinks questioningly at you. “‘Cheollie, I don’t wanna go home…” He stares back, unsure of what to say. A million different thoughts run through his mind in the split second before he opens his mouth.

“Why don’t you stay with me for a couple more days?”

Seungcheol doesn’t understand the gravity of his words until they spill out of his mouth; a panicked look on his face when you go completely silent in the seat across from him. “I m-mean, uh, I mean, like, fuck. I’m sorry, that must’ve been way too out of bounds. I just---it’s just, you don’t want to go home and---and I can take care of you while you’re here! Even if it’s just a couple days. I can help you film too!” He curses himself for rambling; immediately shutting himself up.

“I--I don’t want to bother you, ‘Cheol… That’s really too kind of you…” A shy blush coats your skin; chewing on your bottom lip when you shyly avoid his gaze. “A-and my filming stuff is back home too… I brought a few toys with me so I could film my weekend shows but--but my camera…”

“I can ask Jeongguk!”

You shoot him a bewildered look, brow quirking. “He--he streams sometimes too, like, video games ‘n shit. He actually offered me his extra equipment a while back, if I ever wanted to get into it myself. I can ask to borrow it, if you want?”

You drink in his words, unsure. The thought of staying with Cheol might’ve danced across your mind a handful of times, but now that the offer was on the table, you weren’t sure how to respond.

You trusted Seungcheol, and you knew by now that he would never do anything to hurt or betray you. But this was a far leap from how things were the last time you’d seen him.

“Listen, I can see the cogs in your head turning, baby. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not forcing your hand into anything you don’t want. But I know you’ve been wanting to get out a ‘lil more and… well, in truth, I think it’d be nice for both of us? I can take care of you while you’re here with me and we can keep each other company.” He pauses, smiling at you from across the booth. “But I can also take you back to your hotel room and let you pack so you don’t get home too late.”

“‘Cheol I trust you.. It’s just that… I’m s-scared…”

“Scared? Of what, baby?”

The warmth blooms inside of you; shy eyes meeting his.

“Scared that I’m not gonna wanna go home…”

Seungcheol takes it easy for the rest of the day and doesn’t make an effort to get an answer out of you. He takes you around the city, tugging you into shops he thinks you’d like and walking around with you aimlessly until the sun goes down.

But time seems to go even faster once he takes you to dinner; a sigh on his lips when he knows he has to bring the topic back up.

“I hate to ask but… I have to take you back to your hotel after this so…” Seungcheol trails off, leaving it open-ended for you.

“I know… I just want to know… Why do you like me so much?”

The question takes Seungcheol by surprise; eyes wide as saucers. “I--I’m sorry I don’t follow?” You chuckle under your breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s just… we were strangers, kind of, before Friday, you know what I mean? And now you’re offering your place to me to just… crash at for a few days? What if I rob you blind? Or what--what if you try something with me that I don’t like?” You suddenly start catastrophizing; mind going a mile a minute with potential outcomes.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, wait. Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay! Breathe!” You let out a shaky exhale, groaning as you hide your face in your palms. “God, ‘Cheol, ‘m sorry, I--I really want to stay with you for a few days. It’s just that my brain is going light speed and I can’t keep up. I really like you too, you’ve been nothing but kind and sweet and you’re so handsome, it’s just so crazy to me...” Your words are slightly muffled but Seungcheol catches it, a soft chuckle on his lips when he leans his head on his palm.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa and leave you alone. You can take the bed. Hell, you can even rob me blind and I’d say thank you.”

He reaches his free hand over, fingers circling your wrist as he pulls your hand down. “And I’m offering you my place because I like you as you. You’re cute and funny, and so fuckin’ humble. And I want to get to know you better. In person, y’know?”

“Y-yeah… I wanna get to know you better too. And it’s only a couple days right?”

“Right.”

Seungcheol drives you back to your hotel, a smile on his face when he sees you in better spirits.

He parks his car in front, turning to face you. “So I’ll just wait here while you grab your things and check out, okay? I’ll contact ‘Guk to see if I can swing by and take that extra equipment he offered.”

This time you nod cheerily, body buzzing with excitement as you hurriedly step out of his car. “I’ll be quick!”

He gives it a moment before he picks his phone up, taking a deep breath before typing out a message to the younger male.

‘Hey, ‘Guk I have a favour. Get back to me asap if u can.’

Jeon 🥴 : bold of u to msg me…

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features; fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jeongguk takes a second to send a screenshot, Seungcheol’s cheeks burning a crimson colour when he sees the content.

Jeon 🥴: it’s the employee restroom for me.

Jeon 🥴: bruh it’s also the fuckin way i knew it was u before i even played the video… fuck man is that why u too so long on ur break? u do kno u went over right, I clocked it cuz i was expecting u to come back sooner

Jeon 🥴: for the rec im not mad, actually im impressed just cant believe this is u

Seungcheol ignores Jeongguk’s messages, instead opening the screenshot again and re-reading the video title.

‘I was so needy… 🥺 so I asked daddy to finger me in public…’

Jeon 🥴: bitch i kno ur reading this im dropping the hyung bc u kept this from me!!

Jeon 🥴: after i even offered u my extra camming stuff u were already doing it behind my back…

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the younger male’s dramatic nature, fingers quickly swiping across the keyboard.

‘Alright, I’m sorry okay? I just didn’t think my online habits needed to be public knowledge and for the record, that was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that. I promise no more secrets, unless absolutely necessary. And also speaking of that extra equipment, can I swing by and grab it from your place?’

Jeon 🥴: r u gonna cam now? u got one sip of the devils juice and now ur all in?

‘Would u stop being dramatic oh my god. It’s not for me, it’s for ‘cherry’. She’s going to be staying with me for a few days and I fully expect you to keep your mouth shut on this.’

Seungcheol grimaces when he calls you by your online handle; already feeling unfamiliar with it.

Jeon 🥴: o i c. sure, u can come pick it up, simp. I’ll make sure she’s got all the necessary things before u get here and u owe me one!! i fully expect u to come stream with me at least once for keeping ur secrets 

‘It’s a deal. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.’

A sigh escapes Seungcheol’s lips, his eyes dancing over to your figure that skips towards the car. He locks his phone just as you tap on the glass, popping the trunk before he steps out.

“How’d it go? All checked out?”

“Mmhmm! Did you get in contact with Jeongguk? What’d he say?”

A nervous laugh spills from his lips as he puts your small luggage in the trunk, slamming it shut before rounding the car to open your door. “I’ll help you get settled in at my place and then I’ll drive over really quick and grab the stuff from his place.”

You hop in his car, fiddling with the seatbelt until Seungcheol slides into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t ask what you needed it for?” Gulp. Shit.

“I just told him that I was thinking about streaming, for--for gaming stuff. He was okay with it.”

He’d tell you the truth. Soon, he promises.

No. Now.

Seungcheol sighs, hands on the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “No, no, I--I can’t sit here and lie to you. Jeongguk knows you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, I told him to keep his mouth shut because I didn’t want him to bother you while we were at the roller rink.”

“I--oh…”

He can only nod; eyes dancing over to you as you play with the hem of your dress. “Yeah, I--I’m really sorry. He--He also found out I was ‘dom.cheol’ too and, fuck, I--I don’t know, I kind of panicked too. I hid that part of me from everyone I know so it was just… it was a lot.”

You meet his sad eyes, shooting him a small smile of your own. “It’s okay! It’s a little funny that happens right after that ‘kitty_junjun’ says he saw me in person too, huh? I mean, thanks for trying to protect me at least. It must’ve been weird for you too.”

“Yeah… If you’re not comfortable anymore, I… I’d understand too.” Seungcheol prepares himself for the worst, knowing that there was a chance that this was goodbye.

“Are you kidding! What’s one person gonna do? And you said he’s your best friend and you trust him… I’ll have to take a leap of faith on that one but… I trust you.”

You lean over the center console, kissing him on the cheek. “And anyway, as long as he’s not one of those weirdos asking for ‘favours’, I think we’re in the clear, right?”

Seungcheol grimaces; as long as it’s from me and not you, he thinks.

[capaimagines]

im changkyun - i’ll always be there

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: anxiety/panic attack, mentions of depression, self-depreciating thoughts, mild self-harm (unintentional) | WC: 2.0k

Request: Hi loves! Can I please request a changkyun fic where the reader suffers from serious anxiety and depression and she tries really hard for him to go out and she does but breaks down and has a panic attack and he doesn't know what to do because he is unaware of her condition

Changkyun knew that you were more of homebody. He’d known that since you were kids. The two of you had been friends since you were little. Your mom’s were best friends which meant most of his weekends were spent being dragged to yours to play while your mom’s chatted and did their thing.

Changkyun was always more adventurous than you, he enjoyed exploring and meeting new people. You could never understand how two people who were polar opposites could get along but it worked for you two. However, Changkyun wasn’t aware of just how bad your anxiety about going out was, or more importantly, how low you have been feeling recently.

He knew you really struggled with your emotions and he always did his best to pick you up and be there for you. When you had been offered the perfect job; working from home and only having to go into the office for large meetings every so often, you were ecstatic. Though that meant you had to move to the city. You were ready to turn the opportunity down until Changkyun, like he always did, came to be your knight in shining armor.

So the two of you moved out and lived together. You felt guilty for taking him away from all his friends and family, but he always assured you over and over again that he was fine and this was a new adventure for him also.  He did well living in the city, he was able to land a job as producer for a large company and while there were nights where he didn’t come home, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.

However, you were struggling. A terrible downside of being too nervous to leave the comfort of your apartment always led to your depression coming back. You would manage small walks here and there to try and get out and soak in the sun, but you would quickly return home mid panic attack.

Changkyun wasn’t too aware of all this. He had been working later and later recently and he had barely been home all week. You were spiraling into the black abyss and you couldn’t pull yourself out. You could at least manage to shower and seem normal when Changkyun was home, but the moment he left, you were stuck alone with your thoughts.

Your head was constantly telling you that no one would want you as a friend. That Changkyun was just taking pity on you, he was tired of you or you were too plain, too boring. You deserved to be alone and you were starting to believe that was your destiny. To be alone with no one around. To live in the dark hole for the rest of your life.

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your phone ringing. You couldn’t even muster up the energy to smile at Changkyun’s name.  

“Y/N?” You hadn’t even realized you picked it up.  

“O-oh. Changkyun-ah,” If he noticed how tired you sounded he didn’t say anything.  

“Hey, my friends would really like to meet you. We’re supposed to be getting dinner in a few hours and they asked me to invite you. Can you come? Please? It’d be nice to get you out of the apartment and I promise you it will be fun!” Inwardly you were already starting to panic. Saying no to Changkyun was something you always had trouble with.

“Okay,” You mustered out and Changkyun promised to pick you up in a few hours. You shakily stood on your legs and gave yourself a cold shower. You had hoped it would knock the anxiety bubbling up but it didn’t. You didn’t know how you were going to make it through a meal with strangers, but you didn’t want to embarrass Changkyun either.

You already embarrass him.

His friends are going to think you’re weird.

You don’t deserve a friend like Changkyun.

You sighed, shaking your head. You had to do this for him, he never asked you for much. This wasn’t anything big. He simply just wanted you to meet his friends. Two hours later you were sitting on the couch in the best clothes you owned, leg bouncing up at down. You were squeezing your hands together in hopes to quell the anxiety. Though It was no use.

The minute Changkyun walked in and called your name you felt your heart rate spike. You didn’t know if you could do this, but there your best friend stood, in his skinny jeans and t-shirt with a large smile on his face. You couldn’t let him down. You always let him down.  

“You okay?” He questioned which you blinked at him and offered what you hoped was a happy smile and nodded slightly.  

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go!”

You hooked your arm in his and he smiled brightly down at you before leading you to the car. The whole way to the restaurant Changkyun was talking about something that you didn’t catch a word of. Your eyes were trained on the windshield, heart pounding in your chest. You felt warm, too warm. You felt lightheaded and like you couldn’t breathe.  

“P-pull over,” You stuttered

“What?” Changkyun asked confusedly.

“Changkyun, please,” You pleaded, “ I-I need you to pull over.”

You felt like you were going to vomit. It felt all too small and crowded in the car. There wasn’t enough air. Changkyun pulled over, worried. Encasing his features as you stumbled out of the car as you leaned against the brick wall of whatever building was in front of you. Your breathing was erratic, the cold air was doing nothing to quell what felt like fire on your skin. You were dizzy, the world was spinning.

You slid down, placing your back against the cool bricks and trying to control your breathing, trying to feel anything but the pins and needles in your fingertips. Your legs felt numb. There were too many people walking around, too many people staring at you. You started gasping for air, fingernails digging into your forearm. You didn’t feel the sting when they broke the skin.

“Y/N! Hey! Y/N!” You knew that was Changkyun’s voice, but it sounded so panicked. He sounded scared, worried. You could feel a warmth grab your hands and you looked down trying to find the source. Changkyun was holding your hands in his, pulling them away from your arm. You noticed the little specks of blood on your forearm. When did that happen?

“Y/N!” Changkyun raised his voice slightly, “I need you to look at me!” You felt his calloused hands roughly grab at your chin and through your gazed look you could make out Changkyun’s worried orbs.

“C-Changkyun?” You stuttered weakly. It felt a little easier to breathe.  

“It’s me honey. L-let’s get you home, okay? ”You somehow managed to nod and he pulled you up as you leaned all your weight against him. You were mentally and physically drained.

He sat you in the car and ran around, turning back towards your home. He didn’t say anything, but you could hear how his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel. You felt guilty. Extremely guilty. All he wanted from you was to have one meal with his friends and you couldn’t even make it there. You don’t deserve him. You hold him back from so much. He left everything for you and you can’t even go out for a meal with him.

You let your thoughts take over, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness clouding you. You hadn’t even noticed you were back at your apartment building until Changkyun lightly grabbed your arm. His eyes scanned yours for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds. He was trying to find answers, trying to understand what had just happened.

You shakily followed him back into your apartment and went straight to your room. You collapsed on your bed, curling into the fetal position with a plushy he had won you at some stupid carnival when you were teenagers in between you. You let the tears fall, hating yourself for how pathetic you had become.  Your thoughts were right. Changkyun would be much better off without you.

You hadn’t heard him walk in or feel him sit down on the bed next to your feet. He was watching you, observing you. When had the circles under your eyes become so big and dark? Why did it look like you had lost more weight? Had he been so busy he didn’t even notice how bad his best friend was hurting? How much you needed him?

“Y/N,” He murmured and your breath hitched. You sat up, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder.  

“I’m so s-s-sorry, Kyun. I’m so s-sorry! I-I can’t do anything! I can’t e-even go out f-f-for a proper meal w-with you! I’m such a waste of a human!” His eyes were wide as you blabbered on about how you were a terrible person and friend.

How you sobbed about how sorry you were for holding him back, for making him feel like he needs to stay here with you. He pulled you away from his shoulder, tears and snot running down your face as he just stared at you. You continued to sob and he gently started wiping tears away and cleaning your nose with the tissues by your bed.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low and you were surprised you heard it over your cries.

“There was nothing to tell. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You should go meet your friends,” Whatever emotions that had just exploded out of you were now gone. Now you just sounded empty, felt empty. You were tired and you just wanted to sleep. You pulled away from his grasp and laid down, staring at the wall in front of you.  

“Are you fucking joking me?” He replied back harshly.

You winced a little at his harsh tone. You’d only seen him angry a handful of times but it was never directed at you, “You think I’m just going to go see my friends when you’re feeling like this? Are you stupid?” He was kneeling in front of you now, in your line of vision. You couldn’t say anything. You were too tired now.

“You’re my best fucking friend, L/N Y/N. I am not leaving you. I’m here. I’m always here,” His voice was low again, but desperate. He needed you to know that he was there for you, always. That you are one of the most important people in his life, if not, the most important, “You do not hold me back. You aren’t a shitty friend.”

He made sure you were listening to him, hearing him.

“You’re one of the best people in my life. You always have been. You make me laugh. You always make sure there’s food waiting for me whether I come home or not. You do my laundry because you know that I’ll shrink it. You text me every day and scold me to eat and drink water. You have food delivered to my studio,” He continued to ramble.

You felt a new wave of tears sting your eyes, “You,” He grabbed your hand with one of his and squeezed it tight, “You are my person. My best friend. I am always here. When you’re sad, when you’re mad, when you feel nothing. I’m here. I’ll always be here Y/N,” You squeezed his hand back with as much strength as you could muster. He smiled. He knew you were too tired to speak but he knew you heard him.

“Now scooch over. We’re watching your favorite movie, I’ll order us some takeout and we’re going to cuddle until I see a genuine smile on your face, dammit,” You let out a small chuckle and moved over. He smiled weakly down at you before crawling next to you and pulling your head to his chest. This was your best friend. This was your person. You couldn’t let yourself doubt that, ever.

“I’ll always be there,” He murmured as you closed your eyes.

[isnt-it-loverly]

tied up with a perfect bow// five hargreeves

Warnings: none

Summary: You decide to surprise Five with a Christmas gift

Word count: 1172

Requested: no it literally just came to me 30 minutes ago 

Author note: check out my master list if you enjoyed this story! 

Thank you so much for the support. And no matter what you celebrate, I hope you celebrate this time of year, I hope you have a safe, healthy, and happy holiday!

The cold air whisperer all around you, telling you to turn back, go home, and snuggle up into your warm and plush bed. But this was a very important mission, one you could not turn away from. The steps of the academy were covered in a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. 

No matter, you thought. You didn’t need the front door to enter into the cold and desolate home. You made your way to the alley, peering up you noticed that only one light in the house was on. Perfect. 

You grab the rail of the fire escape and made your ascent. The metal was icy and cold, it made your hands burn and then go numb. But this was worth it. You glanced into the window and saw Five quietly reading your Trigonometry book you’d let him borrow. He said that this was math for babies, but it was fun to have some outside material to study. You couldn’t help but laugh at him when he said it was fun. 

The beeping of your watch pulled you from your thoughts. It was time. You knocked on the window just loud enough for the boy to hear you, being careful not to cause too much noise in fear of his father. Five looked up from his book, opened the window, and was now face to face with you. You watched in awe as the snowflakes danced around his face. 

“What the hell are you doing? Do you know what time it is?” Five whispered in a harsh tone. 

It was not unusual for you to stop by after everyone in the house had fallen asleep. You had been doing so ever since that chance meeting at Griddy’s. But with everything going on with your family life, you had very little time to see him as of late. 

“It’s Christmas,” you said matter of factly. 

“What?” Five replied, with a look of pure confusion on his face. 

“It’s exactly 12 am, which means it’s December 25th,” You stated with a cheeky grin. 

“Yes, I’m aware of the date, but what does that have to do with anything?” Five asked, clearly unamused with your games. 

“Let me in and I’ll explain,” you chided. 

Five offered you his hand which you gladly accepted. It was warm and inviting compared to the harshness of the winter. He helped pull you into the room, where once again you were mere inches apart. 

“Jesus, (Y/n), you’re freezing! You shouldn’t come all this way,” he scolded. 

“As I said before, it’s Christmas. I know that it didn’t fall on a weekend this year so you’ll still have to do your training- I wanted to give you something to make this Christmas special,” you confessed. 

Five looked at you in an expression you’d never quite seen before. You swore you saw his eyes welling up with tears, but that could’ve just been a trick of the light. You slowly reached into your coat and pulled out a package that had been hiding there. It was wrapped in the special addition Umbrella Academy wrapping paper and tied up with a perfect bow. Five took it hesitantly and unwrapped it like it was the most delicate thing in the world. It was almost like he was defusing a nuclear bomb set to explode at any moment. 

“Advanced Calculus and Linear Algebra,” Five remarked, his eyes never leaving the book. 

“I know you like to do that kind of stuff for fun. According to Harvard, this is supposed to be the most advanced math class out there,” 

“You shouldn’t have,” Five mumbled in a low tone. 

“I wanted to,” you defend. 

“No, I mean it. You shouldn’t have gotten me this,” He said a little louder this time. 

You stepped back, hurt evident in your eyes. You couldn’t believe he didn’t want it. You’d spent weeks tracking down the newest addition, making sure everything was perfect. 

“I’m sorry I just thought that you would enjoy something a little more challenging than my high school trig,” you apologized meekly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Five said a little softer. 

He placed the book down on his desk and traced over the letters of the title. You watched intently as he did, wondering what was going on in his head. 

“You shouldn’t have gotten me this, because I can't get you anything,” He clarified. 

Your heart dropped. You knew that his father rarely let him have anything of his own, how could you be oblivious to the fact that this might upset him. You moved closer and rested your head on his shoulder, you felt him slowly but surely lean into your touch. 

“Five, I don’t need anything. You’ve already given me the greatest gift,” you said softly. 

“And what’s that? And I swear if you say some bullshit like ‘friendship’, I will be forced to make you leave,” He said with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“I was not going to say friendship,” you scoffed with a slight roll of your eyes. 

“You were,” Five confirmed. 

“Yeah, you’re totally right,” you laughed.

“You deserve someone who can give you more than just random midnights and occasional Saturdays,” He whispered in your ear. 

You pulled away so that you could look him in the eye. They were so full of determination and love that Five felt his heart swell immensely. You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in close, so close that the tips of your noses touched. 

“I don’t need a present to tell me that you care about me. You risk everything just to see me, you’ve disobeyed direct orders just so you could bring me soup when I was sick, you help me with my ‘math for infants’, you read Shakespeare and Homer to me when I can’t sleep. Five, I love our stolen moments. They are far better than anything you could buy in a store,” You stated. 

You watched him carefully. He was eerily quiet, like a computer processing the new program you had just installed. He was still buffering. He stood without saying a word, and then he blinked out of the room. You stood in utter shock, you couldn’t believe he had just left. However, just as quickly as he had gone, he returned. He was covered in melting snowflakes, his cheeks flushed red from the cold. 

“Where the hell did you go?” You asked very angrily. 

Five held up a bushel of green leaves with white berries scattered throughout. You soon realized that his blush was not from the cold.

“Mistletoe?” You question with a sly smirk. 

“You said it didn’t have to come from a store. Merry Christmas, (Y/n),” He replied with a small shrug. 

He moved closer and dangled the notorious plant over your head. You let out a small laugh before giving him a small yet passionate kiss. 

“Merry Christmas Five.”

[cafeinthemoon]

Founders with s/o who’s struggling with depression and alcoholism 💔

This request  was made by @akimurachang (@nakaakiko​) and since i’ve already had some ideas for a scenario/situation like this, I decided to write it. Thank you for requesting this and for trusting my capacity to write it! Also, I hope you can forgive me for taking this long to do so. I will try not take so long to make requests from now on. Please people be patient with me, I'm trying my best XD

So here we have the Founders finding out their s/o has problems with alcohol and depression because of the proof that’s all over the place (broken bottles, etc.). How would they react to this? What would they do to take care of their loved one?

I’ll be using the same scenario for all of them, which is they going to their s/o’s house to find out why they didn’t attend to a mission about which they talked the day before and then finding s/o lying unconscious in the living room with a dripping bottle around.

Fandom: Naruto | Founders

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

Warning (s): mentions to depression, emotional exhaustion/trauma and alcohol, minor injury

Hashirama 🌱

The thing with Hashirama is not that he doesn’t know that something’s not right; instead, his first reaction is to refuse to believe in his eyes

But all the signs are there for anyone to see

The missions you didn’t attend to and never justified your absence

That time when you casually met in the village and he noticed you were talking too much with a strange alteration in your tone

Somehow a mess in your house that persists and seems to increase in the weekends

A broken bottle you tossed into trash and that small cut in your hand you got while taking out the glass

Your physical tiredness (a result from your habit of using alcohol to replace food) and a decrease in your reflexes and other skills as a ninja

Hashirama is not stupid; he sees all of this

But is hard to accept that you, his strong, brave and lovely s/o could be a victim of such thing

That day when you don’t apply for the mission about which he talked to you the day before, he goes to your house to see if you’re okay and what he sees there is heartbreaking

You’re lying unconscious on your living room’s couch, and a bottle is dropped, its content dripping out and staining the floor

He takes the bottle out of the way and looks closer at you. You have an exhausted expression, your lips had some remaining drops of alcohol on them and your cheeks were wet with what he noticed to be tears

He takes the bottle to the kitchen and tries to wake you up

You wake up dizzy, with a some sort of numbness in your muscles and a terrible headache

When you recognize Hashirama by your side, you suddenly remember the mission

But before you can speak, he explains that he already sent other person in your place and that for now you have to take care of yourself

He tells you to stay where you are, because he’s going to run you a bath

When everything is ready, he takes you to the bathroom and helps you to take off your clothes and to find the shower

After the bath, he takes you to your room and leads you to bed, saying he’s going to prepare some food (it’s obvious that you’ve spent the night before and the morning drinking and haven’t eat anything)

He brings the meal to your room and doesn’t let you leave until the bowl is empty

Then he tells you to take some rest. He leaves eft a wood clone with you in case you need something while he cleans the house

With all the minor inconveniences fixed, you have time to focus on the primary stuff

Hashirama has a way to make people be honest while talking to him, and this works on you too

You tell him your story with alcohol since the start, when you drank for the first time and when it became a real problem. You reveal to him what you feel before, during and after drinking, your fears, your insecurities, your reasons and your failed attempts to stop

He is a good listener, has empathy as no other, and most important, he’s never judgmental

He assures you he would never be disgusted or look down on you because of your problem, which was your biggest fear and your reason to not speak out before

Hashirama is not he most practical person around, so he has a hard time creating measures to help you

In this matter, you show to be more prepared than him: you suggest not leaving anything that reminds you of alcohol at your sight, not going to places where they offer alcohol and things like this

He uses your suggestions to create codes you can share in case you need immediate help

You reschedule your free time to keep your mind occupied with the things you’re good at: if you feel useful, necessary to yourself and the village, your self love and self respect will grow, and with them you will to overcome your problem

He also says that if you feel comfortable, you two can seek for advise with someone who’s been through the same as you

It is true that after some weeks of improvement, there are some relapses and you are caught drinking again

And maybe Hashirama doesn’t show necessary firmness when this happens

But he compensates this with his ability to transmit the strength of his will to other people

Hashirama doesn’t let you give up on yourself, because he knows that this is the key to your cure and he wants you to be aware of that too

When you are with him, you feel like everything is possible and that even someone with your problems can be saved

Tobirama 🌊

Now, with Tobirama things seem to happen faster

Because he's not blind to the signs

So he doesn't take long to take some action

He has been observing your behavior for a while now, but never interfered because he was hoping that you would reach out to him sooner or later

But this doesn't happen, and when one day you don't show up to the mission you were assigned to just the day before, he decides to stop waiting and to do something

The first thing Tobirama feels about the situation is frustration

He thinks you weren’t being honest with him for all this time, and that you don't really trust him

In his mind, it means that to you he's not important enough for you to share your stuff with him

Tobirama doesn't say anything. He just goes to your house to confront you for your reckless attitude

Yeah, you might have some trouble in your personal life, but neglecting your obligations? That's too much

However, none of his previous observations have prepared him for what he finds there

Lying on the couch, unconscious, visibly exhausted and with a bottle on the floor right under your hand, you were nothing like the person he knew

He starts to question himself: did he take too long to do something to help you? Was it his fault?

Being the practical person he was, Tobirama doesn’t waste time with deliberations and approaches you

He’s not a medical ninja, but he doesn’t have to be to understand what happened there: you emptied that bottle, passed out and didn’t wake up because you probably started drinking late at night

He also notices that the skin of your face is a bit clingy: tears rolled down on it hours before

Tobirama’s first measure is to create Shadow Clones to work on your house while he is going to take care of you

While there’s a clone organizing the living room and other two or three verifying the conditions of the other rooms, he uses his sensory abilities to examine your chakra flow

It’s not that good

He uses some basic healing technique to bring you back to consciousness

When you wake up and understand what’s going on, you try to explain and apologize all at once, but he tells you to stay quiet

You do it, and he runs you a bath. But you can do it by yourself thanks to the jutsu he used on you, he goes to your room and comes back bringing you clean clothes

While you dress up and such, he goes to the kitchen to prepare some food. The Shadow Clone he sent there tells him about broken bottles he found on the trash. He dismisses the Clone and decides to talk to you later about this

You come to the kitchen and he puts the bowl in front of you

All the time you stay there in silence. It’s hard, after what happened, to have Tobirama’s eyes on you and not feel judged

You’re in the middle of the meal when you stop eating and break in tears

You hide your face in your hands, so you don’t see him approaching; you only notice it when you feel his hand on your hair

He invites you to a calm place where you can talk without distractions

You accept the invitation and he uses his Hiraishin to take you to a river’s shore

At first, you don't know what to say and he doesn't know what to say to encourage you. But you have known Tobirama for a while now, so you have no choice but to accept that the first words won’t come from him

You don’t try to justify yourself or explain your feelings right at first. You just tell him the sequence of events

He listens to you without interrupting, nodding to confirm he’s following everything. It’s always strange when you have to open your heart to him, cause these emotional matters are not his specialty

Still, he tries his best

He doesn’t sugarcoat anything: he clearly tells you how disappointed he is, not just because you failed with your appointment but mainly because you didn’t reach out to him

He says he wants you to trust his capacity of doing anything on his reach to help you

He then explains that he’s going to be by your side for anything you need, but you’ll need to fight for yourself if you want it to work

You explain that periods of depression and relapses are common for people in your situation, and that it’s not going to be easy for him to deal with you when they happen: your previous partners gave up on you during the process

You are going to need his strength, love and patience for the whole journey

Tobirama looks in your eyes and states that you are not just his loved one; you are part of the village, part of his family, and he won’t give up on his family without trying to save them with everything he got

Madara 🔥

Well, don’t get me wrong in this one

Madara loves you and cares about you as much as the other Grandpas

But unlike them, he has a hard time to understand that even the person he loves most has their flaws and makes mistakes

With all your qualities, abilities, and after all you have been through, how could you fall for such thing?

Yes, Tobirama also finds it difficult to understand that you have a problem that you can’t fix all by yourself, but with Madara the whole question is about strength

It was never a secret to you that weakness disgust him

nd to him, your problem with alcohol is exactly a weakness

So how can he find himself by the side of someone like you? Impossible

But the evidences are all around: the appointments you’ve missed, the alterations in your behavior during weekends, the mess in your house, the headaches and tiredness on Mondays

There was one time when he noticed a cut on your hand and immediately knew it wasn’t caused by a kunai or any other weapon

When he questioned you, you lied. He knew it, but he didn’t dig deeper

However, now its impossible to close his eyes to what’s going on

You didn’t show up to the mission you had together, so he goes after you to find out what happened

When Madara finds you lying asleep on the couch, with a bottle that must have slipped from your hand and now stains the floor with the last drops of its content, he’s confused

He really doesn’t know what to think nor how to feel about the scene

He checks your vital signs to understand the seriousness of your situation

You’ve been unconscious for a couple of hours, but your heartbeats are regular; your levels of chakra seem to be normal as well, but your reflexes will be impaired for a while and you won’t be able to stand up and walk without help

When you finally wake up, you find Madara sitting next to you. It’s clear that he has been there for a long time

You’re experiencing a terrible headache and it seems that your body doesn’t respond to your brains commands

He approaches and helps you to sit on the couch

You can’t look in his eyes. You’re so ashamed that he found you in such state that you’re unable to say anything

He helps you to leave the room and says he’s going to take care of you

You’re aware of the Clone he sent to other parts of the house under the excuse of “checking if everything is in order”, but you don’t argue; you just nod and let him manage things

The first thing he does is to take you to the bathroom. You watch while he warms up the water and brings clean clothes for you

You’re so tired that you don’t even try to protest when he helps you during your bath

It’s also when he notices more marks all over your body that remind him of that one you had on your hand

When the Clone disappears, he receives his memories and finds out that you’ve tossed some broken bottles on the trash. It’s when he finally realizes that this shattered glass are the origin of your injuries

He finds some medicine for the recent (and more serious) ones and lets you resting on your bed, only returning to bring you warm food

You think of refusing it, but it smells so good and you’re so hungry you’d just eat everything in five minutes if he wasn’t there to stop you

He then brings some medicine for the headache

When everything seems to be fixed, Madara tells you to take some rest, explaining that he will return later, and you agree in silence

Days after that, your first attempt to discuss the problem is a total failure

Like, it’s clear that Madara is concerned: the idea of seeing the person he loves following a destructive path like this is intolerable

But he’s divided between this feeling and his vision of strength and weakness, which influences his manners and his talking

So every time he says “you have a weakness”, it sounds like “you are weak”

You’re already in a fragile state, both mentally and physically; you sense you won’t take this for so long

You try to explain your side to him, but he doesn’t seem to understand

Finally you become angry enough to tell him to just leave instead of wasting his precious time with a burden like you

There’s something in Madara’s silence that seems to tell that he regrets the way he talked to you, but no apology comes from his mouth and he in fact leaves

The days pass and your situation only gets worse: while you drown in your alcohol addiction, he suffers for both of you but doesn’t take action anyway

When your absence is noticed by other ninjas (in the village itself and in missions), Madara puts his pride aside and goes after you

He comes at the last moment

You’re on a pitiful and also dangerous state

He immediately takes you to the village’s hospital and asks Hashirama to examine you, which he does, not without scolding his friend for his attitude

This time, Madara is too desperate to argue

He spends day ad night by your side, and makes it clear how much he loves you

When you wake up again and find him there, you read the regret in his eyes

He tries to say something, but you dismiss his attempt, making a sign for him to approach

You say that you current situation is like the one a war would put you through, and that you can’t get out of it by yourself:

“I need the greatest warrior beside me to win”

He kisses your forehead and holds you as tight as your conditions let him

“No. I need the greatest warrior beside me. Forever”

[ramp-it-up]

Some Nights

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Explicit language, SMUT, explicit hetero sex, same sex explicit sex (f x f), oral sex (f giving/receiving), alcohol induced sex, feeble alcohol hitting, sex under false pretenses, drinking, cheating, lying. All the relationship revenge type angst.

A/N: This is supposed to be a sweet little “breakup to make up” smut prompt ask.  My mind took this waaayyyy left and... well here it is. This is a mess of broken hearts, rebounding, and revenge sex. Please do not read if this is triggering. This is not smut lite.

Also, I know the timeline is wonky, but in this AU In the Heights does not interfere with Lin and Chris touring with FLS.

I MUST thank @einfachniemand for the invaluable advice on the Billie love scene. Could not have done it without her. 🥰

------

8 months later, March 2012

You were with Lin on the rooftop, one of your favorite low key, low cost activities, and the late March air was cool.  The moon was full, and the music from your iPod was right.  Lin-Manuel was keeping you warm in his arms and a blanket that he’d brought.

It was so romantic.  All was right with the world. You thought.

“I’m going to miss you when you are on tour, but the month will fly by and before you know it, we’ll be back up here.” 

You smiled up at him as he held you, trying to keep a brave face because  Lin was leaving in the middle of the week for Barcelona.

“Yeah… about that…” He sat up, moved away from you and cleared his throat.  Then, he looked at you. 

“I think we need to take a break.”

You weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly when he said it.  The smile on your face was frozen in place.

“What?”

“Well, I was talking to Chris...and… Well, I’m not sure that I want to shut myself off from the possibilities in Spain…”

You took a second to process, then you got it. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.  

“Chris told you to dump me so you can go be a hoe in Spain?”

Lin shook his head and frowned.  

“No, no… it wasn’t like that. Chris loves you.  He just asked me some very tough questions about us being apart for a month, and I- I don’t want to hurt you…”

You got up, and grabbed your bottle of wine.

“Might as well do it now, instead of later, hunh?” 

“I think it’s for the best. I’m sorry….”

You were numb. 

“I can’t believe I stuck by you through all the starving artist bullshit, rooftop dates instead of going out, streaming movies instead of seeing shows....”  

You stopped, because you were getting heated, and when you got heated you cried, and you refused to cry in front of Lin.

“To expect you to stick by me for four weeks while you’re in Spain is too much to ask. I guess..” 

You straightened your spine and held your head up.  

“I guess I know that this wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“Have a nice life Lin. When you leave, do not knock on my door. Just go straight to hell.”

-----

Fuck Lin Manuel Miranda

His damn hair, fucking long eyelashes, the little dimples he gets when he gets that little smirk on his fucking stupid beautiful face.

The view from beneath him. Those goddamn lips.

Mutherfukin Lin Manuel Miranda.

You’d let him charm his way into your heart and into your pants. And damn, what he had in his pants gave you so much joy. 

The fact that you were crying was not for Lin.  You were crying for being too trusting and too liberal with your heart.  

You weren’t going to let anyone have a chance to break it again. 

Yes, that was the reason. 

You didn’t miss Lin at all.

-----

Mayra gave you the long weekend to be pitiful, and then you had to get back on your grind, and moving on with your life without Lin.

Your best friend since middle school felt guilty because she’d introduced you to him, a friend of a friend, one night at a bowling alley.  

You and Lin had hit it off immediately. Very immediately, in fact, and were inseparable for a solid 8 months.

But despite feeling bad about it, Mayra wasn’t about to let you mope around and waste your life missing him. And she was right.

Lin left for Barcelona on a Wednesday, and by Saturday night, you were out with Mayra, mingling and meeting new people. 

Mayra’s scene wasn’t your scene, but everybody was nice, fun, and attractive.  You weren’t really with it, but you’d be damned if you were going to wither away in your room.

You had just finished dancing with Mayra and her friends and you needed to sit this one out. 

The 6-inch heels you were wearing and the blazer over lingerie top look was not a good combination for vigorous dancing.  

You were hot and your feet were killing you.

You nursed your drink and watched your bestie having fun, when someone approached you.

Gorgeous lips, caramel skin and stunning brown eyes sized you up. 

Why is it always the eyes? You felt something that you weren’t too sure about.

“I like the way you make that pink push up bra look intellectual.”

Curious and amused, you looked into the brown eyes and laughed.

“I’m Billie.”

She extended her hand and you shook it. You knew what kind of bar this was, but you weren’t expecting this. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh.  I’m, I’m not…”

Billie flashed a gorgeous smile at you.

“Relax. You’re cute, but I can tell, you ain’t ready for this yet.  I just had to come say hi, though.  Drinks....As friends?”

You accepted and spent the night dying laughing at your new friend’s witticisms.

----

The next week, you were chilling with Billie at the crib, along with a bunch of other folks that Mayra had invited over.  

You were on the roof, telling her all about Lin, and you started to cry again.

“...And then he just, breaks up with me because he wants to go to Spain and fuck Spanish FLS groupies…..”

It was about the 10th time that you’d cried about it. You were tired of hearing yourself.  Billie just rubbed your back and listened. 

“I would never put up with that from a man. And you shouldn’t either.”

 When you started sobbing, she apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s…... okay….”  you gasped, trying to calm down.

She hugged you, rubbing your back and pressing you close.  

You felt some kind of way and pulled back.

“Bill… I don’t want to lead you on.”

Billie just smiled that gorgeous smile. 

“It’s cool. No stress. I’m just here to listen. Let’s go back downstairs.”

You nodded and rejoined the party, feeling more comfortable with Billie than before, partly because she was giving you some space.  

You couldn’t help but sneak glances as she mingled with everyone at the party and when your eyes met. Whew.

Who knew?

----

The next week, you were in your apartment with Billie again, this time, alone.

You’d invited her over, because she was quickly becoming the person you most liked to talk to and you hadn’t really talked in person since the previous weekend.

You gave her a glass of wine and settled down onto the couch, comfortable in your tank top and sweatpants.  Not seductive at all.

Billie looked cute as always in button down blue silk shirt and jeans with her hair up. 

“I want to apologize for last week. I just vomited my emotions all over you and you were nothing but amazing about it.”

Billie laughed. She was so damn beautiful.

“I told you no worries!”

“Can I ask you a question? Why are you doing all this for me?”

Billie took a drink and set her glass down on the coffee table. She leaned back on the couch.

“Do you mean do I have any ulterior motives?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, no question that I think you are attractive, and that I would love…”  

She shook her head and straightened up.

“But, I’ve fallen for enough straight-but not so straight women to know that I should let you make the first move.”

She bit her lip and you put your wine down because it was making you warm.

You reached for and grabbed her hand. You shifted it to entwine your fingers with hers.

You kissed her palm and drew her closer to you, her hovering over you on the couch. She didn't move, forcing you to bring your neck up to kiss her lips tentatively and softly. 

You wrapped your arms around her waist and brought her body down to rest next to yours on the couch and looked into her eyes. You ran your hand down the side of her body, feeling all of her curves. And you moved to kiss her again. 

This time her soft lips opened to accept your tongue and you played hide and seek, exploring.

You pulled back to look at her again, giggling now, a smile plastered on her face. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for two weeks,” Billie whispered in your ear before kissing your neck. 

Her fingers rubbed teasingly at the skin where your tank top had ridden up, and rotated around to your ass, fingers slipping into the back of your sweats. 

You moaned softly as she tugged your earlobe between her teeth and then kissed along your jawline.

You wanted to feel her, so you brougt your hand up her side to feel her breast over her shirt, and found it warm and soft to the touch, except for the hardening nipples that you gently played with.

Looking into her eyes, you saw the desire there and leaned over to kiss her again. She kissed you back harder, pushing her hands deeper into your sweats and cupped your ass with both hands, kneading your flesh tenderly.

You wanted her to touch you at your core, but her teasing fingers never seemed to get there. 

Next, she moved one hand from your butt to pull up your tank top, exposing your nipple to the cool air of the room.

She took your breast in her hand and squeezed it, thumb running lightly over your nipple. You moan and leaned back while putting your hands in her hair.

Billie moaned and ran her thumb over your nipple and teased them until they were achingly hard and sensitive. 

When she leaned down and kissed the top of your breast, making her way slowly, oh so slowly to your nipple, it caused your pussy to ache and throb while soaking your panties.

You groaned in frustration as she continued to tease you for a while before her mouth reached your nipple, moaning around it and sucking gently at first before picking up intensity. 

Her hand moved to the front of your pants, tracing your wet lips through your panties but applying no pressure. 

You were a moaning, quivering mess as you rocked against her fingers, trying to get what you needed.

Billie separated from you to take off her shirt, smiling at you as you shed your clothes. 

She looked over your body and brought her eyes up to yours, smiled into them, and took your face in her hands.

Next, those hands roamed down your body, circling slowly, grasping gently here and there, teasing you to a soaking wet mess on the couch cushions.

“Please!” you whispered, squirming in agony.

Billie chuckled and held your gaze as her hand finally rested in your core, lightly pinching your clit between her fingers. She just played with it as you moaned beneath her.

“I love watching you like this,” she whispered as she teased you some more. “Do you like it?”

She looked so cute as she asked, but all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

She smiled at you and lowered her head to your skin while you watched intently. She kissed and sucked at the skin on your stomach and thighs, looking up to establish eye contact again and again.

You whined and tried to keep still as she neared your core and gently opened your thighs. She looked at you for the longest time before her mouth met your pussy and finally licked through your folds.

You shuddered, already almost cuming as you waited for more.

She kept eye contact with you as she sucked your clit gently, humming while you quivered in her mouth. She then traced her tongue around your entire cunt, kissing and sucking those lips gently, but expertly.

Finally, she manipulated your clit with her tongue, and alternated that with inserting it far inside you as she could go.

When she sucked hard at it, you came, feeling like you never had before.

Somehow, you wound up on the floor in her arms. 

And the night had just begun.

 -----

May 2012

You walked home slowly from the subway, trying to think of a good reason not to get there. 

You felt like throwing up, knowing that Lin would be there on your rooftop with the rest of FLS. You did not want to face him.

It had been almost two months since you last saw him and you were having fun with Billie. She stopped you from wondering just who you were. The love you had for her was real.

But there was some reason, which you did not want to name, that caused you not to want to see Lin. 

You saw his face often enough when you awoke, in that space between dream and reality.  That was sufficient torture, aside from having to see him in person at an event that was supposed to be fun.

But Mayra had started to harass you two weeks ago.

"Come on! You've got to be there on my birthday. I’ll make sure Lin doesn't bother you, but UTK won’t come without him and I’m trying to get that D again.  I need it to survive. Don't you love me?” 

She pouted at you and when that didn’t seem to work, she resorted to outright threats. 

“I’ll never speak to you again if you don't come.”  

This continued every day until the party.

Being trapped on a rooftop with Lin for three hours wasn't your idea of fun. 

Anymore. 

And to top it off, Billie had to work tonight. This sucked big time. But you had decided to be there for your friend.

"She better know I love her, " you whispered to yourself as you stepped out on the roof.

You were greeted by Chris almost as soon as you arrived. He enveloped you in a bear hug. You stiffly hugged him back. You still felt some kinda way.

He held you away from him. 

"You look good, girl, long time no see!”

You nodded at him stiffly. “How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, promoting and stuff. The Spain trip was good."

You nodded again and looked around the roof.

“He told me he would stay away from you.”

You looked back at Chris. “Who?”

“You know who.”  You just smiled tightly and looked down.

“What’s up with you?” His voice was suspicious.

You looked up and stared him straight in the eye, not wanting to be intimidated.

“I don’t know Chris? Just maybe you told my boyfriend to break up with me so he could hoe around Europe with you guys. That was a little annoying.”

Chris raised his arms in self defense.

“Wait a minute, Missy.  I did not tell him that.  What I told him was that if he could not definitely, without a doubt, be true to you, that he needed to be straight with you. If he had any doubts at all. That you deserved better.”

You just look up at this big, sweet man and willed yourself not to cry.

“Oh.” That was all you could say.

“But maybe I shouldn’t have said anything because he fucked that whole conversation up and wound up sulking the entire trip. All of his freestyles were about you, you know.”

“I don’t care Chris, because you’re right.  He did fuck up. I’ve moved on.” You held your chin high.

Chris smiled at you. “Too bad for Lin. Your new man is a lucky guy.”

You smiled back. “My new woman is a lucky girl.”

“Oh.” That was all he could say. He recovered quickly however.  “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Thanks friend.” 

You smiled and gave him a hug, feeling better about a lot of things. Lin Manuel Miranda was a world class idiot.

You grabbed a red solo cup full of something and stood at the railing looking over the city.

"Heyyyy, what's crackin'?" 

You turned around to see Utkarsh  standing behind you. You smiled at him.

 "Hey UTK! What it do?"

"Well, give me a hug. I’ve missed you, too. Mayra won’t let me near you since we’ve been back, I don’t know why.”

You knew why. You hadn't really wanted to see any of the FLS guys since you and Lin broke up.

You hugged him. "She’s probably jealous of our love." You smiled at your friend.

“Right.” Utkarsh smiled at you. Then he frowned. 

“Wait, why would she be jealous?  She said she and I were just friends…” 

You laughed at his back as he went to find Mayra.  Well, you’d manage to wingman without even trying.  Your job should be done for the night. You turned around to leave, running right into Mayra.

"Happy birthday, Bitch!" You squealed and hugged her.

"Thank you, boo! I didn't think you would actually come! I'm so happy!"

"You mean I had a choice? I seem to remember some very specific and lethal threats if I didn't get my ass on this roof tonight."

"No, it's because you love me." Mayra made a face at you. 

"But seriously though. The roof is big enough that you don't have to be near Lin if you don't want to. Try to have a good time."

"Girl, I'm going to have a blast! As long as there is booze and music, I'm good to go." You lied to your bestie.

"Okay girl, do you want me to stay with you so no one will bother you?" 

You knew what she meant.

"No girl, I don't need a bodyguard. Have fun, mingle, be a good hostess. I'll be fine."

You pushed Mayra away from you.

You sighed and walked toward the bar. Before you made it there, you were enveloped in Shockwave and Jelly Donut. They both hugged you, making a sandwich.

"Guys, I can't breathe!" 

They released you, laughing. Shockwave got right to it.

“You know It killed Lin when you two broke up. He was a bitch in Spain."

Your heart clenched. 

"Listen, I don't want to talk about it. I'm just here to have a good time for Mayra. Can we just chill with all that?"

"Okay, okay. I had to try. I know he's an idiot, but..." Sully barreled on. Andrew started poking him in the side. 

"What???”  Andrew gave Sully a look and he was chastened.

“Sorry love. We'll let you go mingle.”

"Yes, thank you." 

You felt like getting good and drunk. You looked at your phone and saw that there were two and a half hours left of the party. Might as well start now. You downed your drink and went to get another.

You ran into Arthur. He winked at you as you apologized. 

"No worries, you better eat something if you are going to drink like that. You can't hang with the big boys like me."

You rolled your eyes and finished the second drink. 

“You’re skinnier than I am, tuh.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about when I say big boy.” 

You looked at him in shock, and then burst out laughing. You loved these guys. Too bad Lin got them in the break up.

You sighed and began working on your third drink.

--------

Lin spotted you when you first stepped on the roof. He moved out of your line of sight and watched as Chris talked to you.

Geez, you were fine as hell. The dress you were wearing was everything and the heels made your ass pop. Damn.

He went and got a drink, still watching you. He felt like a stalker. Chris came over.

"I tried to get her to talk to you, but she wasn't having it." 

They both watched you and UTK talking. 

"Man, you are an idiot. You're lucky you're my brother, or I would kick your ass for letting that go."

“Thanks, my guy.” Lin’s reply was dripping with sarcasm.

“Any time. Next time listen with your big boy brain before you do something that dumb.” 

Lin was ready to fight. Luckily, Chris left. Then UTK came up, talking shit.

"Lin, you douche! How could you be so dumb, man?” 

They watched the Jelly/Shockwave/You sandwich.

"Leave me the fuck alone." 

Lin moved to the other side of the roof where Sully came up to him.  Lin put his hands up.  

“Before you say it, I'm going to stay out of her way. I'm not trying to ruin Mayra’s party. Just about two hours to go."

“Good, because you have fucked this one up royally.” Sully shook his head as Lin stalked off.

----

After some drinks, you started to loosen up and have fun. You danced with Mayra and all of FLS minus one.

You thought you saw Lin a couple of times out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, he was gone. Every time that happened, you went and got a drink.

By the end of the night, you were looking at the sky and trying to sober up.

"The sky is beautiful tonight."

You jumped. Lin was there, watching you. You just looked at him and started back downstairs.

"Don't leave, please. Let me talk to you."

He followed you down to your apartment.

"You said all there was to say. I'm done."

You put your arms around yourself. All of a sudden you were cold. You stared Lin down, but he didn’t budge.

"What do you want, Lin?"

He sighed. This isn't going to be easy, he thought. He looked into your beautiful eyes and decided to go for it. There was nothing left to lose.

"Honestly? I want you back." His heart was in his throat as he said it.

You closed your eyes. You couldn't go there. No matter what your heart was doing in your chest.

"No. No, you do what you did and you want me to come back? To trust you? You promised you wouldn't hurt me. I can't with you Lin, I just can't."

His heart actually hurt.

"I'm so sorry…. "

You didn't let him finish. 

"Please! Don't give me the same tired old clichés every dude gives their girl when they fuck up!"

You were far from cold now. 

"If I took you back, what's gonna happen the next time you go on tour? I am not a yo-yo Lin!"

Lin reached for you. "It's not going to happen again, I've learned...."

"Don't fucking touch me! You have some muthafuckin nerve!"

Lin kept moving toward you.

"Back the fuck up! Don't come near me! Get off of me!" 

You began hitting him when he took you in his arms.

"Tell me that you don't want me to hold you, that you don't want to be with me. Tell me you don't miss us, this. Tell me that you don't want me to and I'll leave you alone."

Lin pressed himself against you, and you stopped fighting. You melted on the inside. The alcohol had you loose. Suddenly you had a thought.

"Fuck it. You're right. I have missed you." 

You moaned as he put his lips on your neck. You wanted him so badly. 

"Let's go in here." You nodded toward your bedroom.

Lin's heart leapt and he gladly followed you.

You attacked him when you got inside. 

"Whoa, hold up...."

"No, let's do it. Don't say anything or I will change my mind." 

You turned around, pulled your dress up, got on the bed and bent over, ass in the air. 

"Fuck me, Lin. Please."

Lin was confused. One minute you were fighting him, next you were begging for it. But he wasn't going to argue. He wanted you too bad. He moved your panties to the side, took out his hard cock and quickly and roughly entered your warm, tight goodness.

The stretch hurt a little, but it was welcome. It had been a while since you had taken a cock and Lin’s was your favorite. 

You became wet rapidly, and although you wanted Lin to hurt you as a sort of penance, it felt amazing.

"Ohhh, you feel so good. Shit! I've missed this. So tight for me…” 

Lin moaned through his dick wanting to explode.  He hadn’t had anyone else since you, for about three months.

"I said don't talk!" 

You were trying to blank your mind of what you were doing.

Lin felt like right now he was in heaven, and heaven was you. Lin shut up and started giving it to you harder, just like he knew you liked. He smacked your ass, hard.

"Yes, yes, yes. Oh yes!" 

You quivered, especially when he smacked it. Forceful Lin was one of your favorite Lins. Damn. You savored the contact as Lin, all of his manhood, hit your spot. 

It felt so damn good after so much emotion and time.

To Lin, all that mattered was you right now. He fought not to come until he felt your body pounding with your orgasm.

Almost as soon as it was over, you turned around and looked at him. He looked up from buttoning up his pants and smiled. You could tell that he was thinking this was the beginning of your reunion. 

You leaned in and gave him a good, long kiss, preparing to give the greatest acting performance of your life.

"Goodbye, Lin. That was just what I needed. Have a good life."

His goddamn adorable face registered confusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

"This was closure. “

The way his face changed broke your heart.  But he’d broken yours.

Lin was stricken. "But,I love you. That's why I...."

You interrupted him. 

"It's not you, it's me. I needed that to get you out of my system. "

You looked at him coldly, a mess on the inside.

"That's not all we have. We love each other!” Lin was trying to make sense of the situation. 

“You're telling me that after this you don't want to get back together?" He couldn't believe what you were saying. 

"As far as getting back together, we're not. This didn't mean anything; I am drunk off my ass and I had a lapse in judgement. It's not going to go any further."

"But you love me, I know it." He reached for you.

You moved out of his reach and toward the door.

"I told you, I can't, I won't let my guard down again with anyone. I can't love anymore." 

Lin was looking at you with his mouth open.

You straightened your dress and left your room, ignoring the fact that Lin was calling your name. You were ready to be alone.

There, outside your door, was Billie.

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