#anyway I'm going to stop for the night and pick it up tomorrow

[ibrokeeverything]

Yoshiwara in flames is not messing around y'all

[justinefrischmanngf]

at some point i'm going to have to stop fantasising about debilitating nicotine addiction and actually start smoking . for legal reasons this only applies to nicotine .

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa. 

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM. 

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths. 

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case. 

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers. 

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther. 

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee. 

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.  

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original."  But you were well used to it by now. 

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

 He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma? 

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be. 

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger. 

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction. 

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet. 

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. 

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

 Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip,  voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark. 

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?" 

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second. 

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension. 

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

[mrsmikaelsxn]

A Malfoy And A Potter

masterlist

pairing: draco malfoy x female potter reader

warnings: fluff, kissing

summary: you and draco have been dating in secret but the secret comes out when you two attend the yule ball together

a/n: i am so sorry i have not posted in forever, i've just been busy with school and work, and trying to catch up on my reading goal for the year! it's almost summer break so i should be posting more again :)

song: sleigh ride - the ronettes

You were currently pushed up against the wall by your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

His lips roam the smooth skin of your jaw and throat. Peppering you with loving kisses while you play with his hair.

Both of you are breathing heavy and he brings his lips back up to your mouth as he kisses you. You let out a satisfied hum and put your hands on his chest.

You gently push him back a bit and he looks at you. "What's wrong, love?"

"Someone is going to see us," you whisper.

"Hm, well that sucks for them," he grins and kisses you again.

You push him and laugh, "I guess you're right," you smile.

"They're going to see us when we go to the ball tomorrow night, you do know that, don't you?"

"Well of course, I know that!"

Draco pulls you into his chest and rests his head on yours, "If Potter has a problem with you and me tomorrow, I'll be more than happy to practice some hexes on him," he glides his hand along your waist.

"There will be no practicing hexes, Draco," you pick up his hand and kiss it before walking out of his embrace.

"Boring!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," you squeeze his cheeks. "Anyway, I'll be off to dinner now, you should come too," you start walking to the great hall and he follows you like a lost puppy.

You go in and sit with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "Hello," you smile at them.

"Hi, Y/n," Hermione smiles.

"Hey, mate," Ron says.

"Greetings," Harry salutes you. You grin and salute him back.

"So, do you all have your dates?" You ask them. You already knew about Hermione's date, of course, you two are like sisters.

"Er- not exactly," Harry replies scratching the back of his neck.

"Same here," Ron sighs and drops his head onto the table. You cover your mouth to stop your laugh when he groans in pain.

"Welp, you two got under a day left," you clasp your hands.

"What about you?" Ron asks, "I've been wondering if you finally picked someone out of the two hundred people who asked you," he says with amusement.

"Oh don't be silly, Ron, it was not two hundred people!"

"Sorry- two hundred and seven," he corrects.

You roll your eyes, but it was true. You four have literally been tallying how many people have asked you, boys and girls. "Well, yes, I have a date."

"Really? Who?" Hermione asks.

"I suppose you'll have to see tomorrow," you exclaim with a smile.

You were in your room getting ready for the ball, slightly panicking. Hermione was already dressed and now helping you. "Y/n, you don't need to be nervous," she says as she helps with your hair.

"I know but-"

"No buts. You are perfect and you dance amazingly! Your date is very lucky," she smiles.

You relax a bit and look at her through the mirror, "Hermione, have I mentioned how much I love you?"

"Yes, yes you have," she takes her wand to finish your hair. You already did your makeup with some of her assistance. She claps her hands in excitement, "I believe it's time for the dress!"

You pick up the beautiful dark green gown. You had bought Draco a matching tie when you picked the dress out.

You put the dress on and flatten out some wrinkles.

"You look stunning!" Hermione squeals.

"You mean that?"

"Of course! Now, let's head to the ball!" Hermione links her arm with yours. You two make your way to the entrance when you start to panic again. For someone as well known and popular as you, you get social anxiety often.

"You go in first, I'm scared," you bite your lip nervously.

She sighs but nods. She gives you a quick smile with a thumbs up before she heads down the stairs and goes to her date, Viktor Krum. You peak through the curtain to watch. Ron's jaw drops when he looks at her and her date. He looks angry and you could almost laugh.

After pacing for two minutes you decided to just go down. You pull the curtain and try to sneak in without being noticed. Unfortunately, things don't always go the way you want.

There were an absurd amount of gasps as you made your way down the stairs, praying to Merlin that you didn't trip in your heels. The gaping gazes of the people there making you even more nervous.

You see Draco talking with his best friend, Blaise Zabini. Draco listens to his friend talk as he waits for you to arrive. He notices his friends eyes widened as his mouth opens a bit.

He furrows his brows and looks to see everyone staring at something. He looks and his eyes land on you. He feels all the air sucked out of him. He admires you and then snaps out of his trance and makes his way over you, who was smiling at him.

He holds out his hand and you place yours in his. He leans down to your ear and whispers, "I hope you know how ethereal you look, sweetheart," he pulls back and you blush. Another round of gasps fill the room and you hear a, "WHAT?!" You look over and see Harry rushing over to you two, "I- what in Merlin's name are you doing with Malfoy?!"

"Um, he's my date," you say.

Harry's jaw drops as his head goes back between the two of you. You laugh and shake your head.

Draco pulls on your hand, "I would appreciate a dance with my girlfriend while you continue gaping," he places his hand on your lower back and walks you to where people started to dance.

"GIRLFRIEND??!!"

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

           [17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.            [17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?            [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.            [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒            [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait            [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧            [18:03] You: was on a date            [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon            [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that            [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there            [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not            [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later            [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official             [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…            [18:10] You: considering… ya know            [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨            [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is            [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌            [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’???             [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this            [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp            [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000            [18:25] You: WOW            [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????            [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌            [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol             [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?            [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird            [18:57] You: but yes            [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why            [18:58] Mimi: 🤨            [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes            [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

            [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out             [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but            [18:58] Joonie: I told you so            [18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰            [18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁            [18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

[authorhjk1]

Fantasy

(Kwon Eunbi X Winter X Male Reader)

"How was school today?"

Minjeong looks up from her plate.

She still feels a little weird around her mother. The two of them never talked about what happened last night after Eunbi left her room.

"It was alright..."

Minjeong glances at her mother as she leans down to capture the noodles between her chopsticks, before they fall back into the bowl. Her eyes stop at her cleavage. Her mother's chest looks as amazing as always. If Minjeong....

She shakes her head. Yesterday was a one time thing. She is glad her mother helped her out. But it was embarrassing nonetheless. No one has seen her naked since she can remember. She feels this weird tingly sensation whenever she thinks about last night.

The buzzing of her phone makes her realize that she was staring at her mother a little too long. Minjeong quickly checks the message she got.

Like she said, her day was alright. Which can't be said for her friend. Karina just broke up with her boyfriend today. Or rather he broke up with her. Via text. While sitting in the same class.

Minjeong never expected him to be such a selfish coward. Karina left quickly after she read the text and the two girls stayed together for the whole day, Minjeong trying to comfort her friend.

"When are you coming over?"

"Mom, can I stay at Karina's over the weekend? She is having a hard time."

"Sure, sweetie. But don't you want to spend time with your brother?"

"That's why I'm leaving tomorrow morning and not now. And he is gonna stay a while anyway."

"Alright."

Eunbi nods, giving her permission.

She herself is still very aware of what happened the night before. She is happy that she was able to help her daughter out. And yet, she knows she crossed a line. A line which a daughter and a mother usually shouldn't cross. She somehow feels a little guilty. Should Eunbi have stayed out of it and let her find out on her own?

The two of them keep eating in silence and clean the table afterwards. They are both thinking of the night before. Wanting to keep this relationship like it was, no one is bringing it up. It might be best to just forget it happened.

____________

You get up when you finally reach the station. The several hour train ride gave you more than enough time to think. After moving away and finishing high school somewhere else, you started studying medicine. Struggling with studying and projects for a year now, you do have to admit that medicine might be too much for you.

You are now looking around after getting your bag out of the train. You are trying to find something different. You do know that time is running out. You do have to settle for something eventually. But medicine is just not it. You furrow your eyebrows. You can't see her anywhere.

Eunbi can't help but let out a loud sigh as she sits down. She just bought herself a cup of coffee at the train station while waiting for you.

The things she did with her daughter just won't leave her mind. She feels guilty. As if she just corrupted her own daughter. But did she really?

Eunbi takes a soulless sip of her coffee. She just wanted to help her out. Even if she did go a little far, it was only with good intentions. Right?

The guilt just doesn't want to leave her body. She feels shame at what she has done. Her daughter should have these kind of experiences with her boyfriend. But then again...

Eunbi leans against the back of her chair, letting out another sigh. This feels like one of the most challenging moments, since she become a mother. She used to always know what was right and what was wrong. But this is different. It's a grey area. It might be controversial in society, but is it really wrong? Is it really wrong to help your daughter out?

You walk through the station, surprised you don't see her anywhere. Your stepmother told you she would pick you up. You expected her to wait on the platform, since you told here where you'd arrive, but it seems like she is running late. Or she got lost. You found out when you were younger that she has a really bad sense of directions.

But you do find her eventually. She is sitting at a table near a cafe. She looks oddly worried. As if something really important is bothering her. You walk up to her, approaching her from her right.

"What is a beautiful young lady like you doing in a place like this?"

Eunbi looks up at you with a frown on her face as she hears your weird pickup line. But a smile quickly follows, when she recognizes you.

"You are finally here!"

She jumps off the chair to give you a tight hug. You feel her warm body press against yours. You hug her back, having missed her for quite a while now. After a couple of moments, Eunbi takes a step back to look you up and down.

"You've become quite handsome yourself, young man."

She winks at you, while playfully hitting your chest.

"Thank you, mom."

You can't help but feel embarrassed. Every guy can agree that his mom, telling him how good he looks, is embarrassing. Especially in public. If it's true or not is a different matter. But Eunbi isn't even your real mom. You call her that, but you both know you are basically not related. Apart from her being your father's wife for a short time, the two of you are just a woman and a man.

"How are you doing? I haven't seen you in a while."

"Just tired. Studying just isn't for me. School was already hard enough."

"Don't worry. Everyone finds their path eventually. I'm sure, you will too."

During your ride home, you pass by a couple of places you remember from your childhood. After failing school, you moved out of the house. You had to get away from your parents' place. Eunbi is becoming more and more chatty the longer she drives, wanting to catch up with you. Looking outside the car window, you realize you were gone for quite a while, but nothing seems to have changed here. There is the store you used to work at. The grocery store Eunbi goes to almost every day. And your sister's school. You used to go there too. Your grades were bad and you know you can only blame yourself for that. But there were more factors than your family's history.

You remember a certain teacher as you drive past her house.

"Miyawaki Sakura"

That's what her doorbell nameplate says. You know it, because you've been here once or twice before, hoping to catch a glimpse of her after school.

She was the hottest teacher at school. Probably still is. She always wore tight dresses and more daring outfits than the other teachers. It distracted you from studying, whenever you sat in her class. And Math was never your strong suit from the get go. It's not like you blame her for failing her class, but she definitely made it harder to concentrate.

She is also the reason for your interest in older women. It started out with Ms. Miyawaki. You realized that she looked way better than the girls in your class. More mature, more experienced and so on.

You never had a girlfriend. But if you would be looking for someone, you would be looking for a mixture of Ms. Kiyawaki and your stepmother.

Eunbi is your ideal of the perfect woman. While your teacher was more of a fantasy, limited to nothing but her hot body, Eunbi was and still is the person you would want to settle down with.

You get why your father liked her, despite him being an asshole. Eunbi has it all. Her charisma, her humor, her caring side, even her strict side, all of her qualities draw you towards her. She is mature and dependable. At the same time also independent, while being able to raise two kids, she also managed to get her dream job.

For a couple of moments, you wonder if there is another person like her. With a personality like hers. While you keep daydreaming about your possible future girlfriend, you realize Eunbi's car is entering the driveway.

"And that's why I told her 'No, thank you'."

Eunbi laughs at the story she just told you. You can feel your cheeks heat up a little in embarrassment. You didn't catch a word of what she said.

When she looks at you, you grin at her, pretending to have listened.

"Oh gosh, look at the time."

Eunbi glances at her watch.

"That's your fault. You always drive so slow."

You avoid getting hit as you jump out of the car.

After getting your bag out of the trunk, you follow Eunbi to the front door. You step inside, looking around. Everything looks the same. Just like two years ago. Just like the last time you visited.

"Is she still awake?"

"I sure hope not. I told her to go to bed. You know, because of school."

"Right."

You have a history of long nights with Eunbi. She stayed awake after working and all, trying to get you through your math class. But having a hot teacher at school didn't make it easier at all. And you also remember the arguments you had with Eunbi about dropping out of school. The back and forths on the pros and cons. You are still very aware that Eunbi felt kinda betrayed as you decided to leave. But that was over two years ago. And you were able to convince her that it wasn't her fault, which she started to believe at the beginning. You are very glad to have a woman like her in your life.

"But, why is it so hot in here?"

"What?"

While Eunbi is only wearing her top, you are still wearing your jacket. But it isn't just that. It really is very hot.

"Not again!"

Eunbi disappears into the basement. You wait in the living room, taking your food out of your bag. After studying medicine, you realized how important it is to take care of yourself.

You place your protein powder on the kitchen counter, just as Eunbi comes back up the stairs.

"Is something going on?"

"The heater has been broken for a week or two. And no company I called can send someone to fix it, because they all have so much to do already. They said it's gonna take at least another week."

Eunbi rubs her forehead as she sighs. Maybe that's why she looked so worried while she drunk her coffee earlier.

"Let me take a look at it tomorrow."

"You would do that?"

"Sure. I learned how to do it, while I worked at the garage."

"Ah, yes. I remember. While you were graduating."

You nod.

"I'm tired now, though. So I will sleep now and have a look at it tomorrow."

"Are you not hungry? It's late, but I can make you something."

"It's fine, I'm not hungry."

You smile at Eunbi, before heading to your room. The truth is, you are hungry. But you are afraid you would do something stupid right now, if you didn't take care of the situation you have.

Once you lock the door, you get on your bed and take your pants off. Closing your eyes, you see pictures of your former math teacher in your mind. Just thinking about her makes you hard. You remember the last time you saw her. In class. With that ridiculously low cut dress. And how tight it was. It was so tight you thought it was gonna rip as she picked up the pencil she dropped, while she walked through the room, checking everyone's work. No way that drop wasn't on purpose. You had a full view of her ass as she bend down, the outlines of her panties visible through the thin fabric.

Eunbi sees that you turned the lights off as she exits the bathroom. She smiles, just happy that you are back. At least for a while. Walking past Minjeong's room, Eunbi doesn't hear any noise inside. She wonders if her daughter is now able to take care of her needs probably and knows what a catch she is. She still can't believe her daughter thought she isn't pretty enough. If she had a boyfriend, all of her insecurities might go away. Or at least have her first time. It might make her more comfortable and make her more aware of how precious and beautiful her body is.

Eunbi sighs as she steps into her own bedroom. But where would she find someone whom Minjeong finds interesting? This would be a very special moment for her. She can't just pick a random guy off the street. Eunbi's last relationship ended a while ago, so she can't offer Minjeong her own boyfriend. But wouldn't that be weird? All the men she dates are at least as old as her. Which means they are way too old for her. It would be best for Minjeong to find someone her age. Maybe someone at school? A classmate? Eunbi shakes her head at that ridiculous thought. As if she would go to school and ask boys to sleep with her daughter. Because she knows too well, that Minjeong wouldn't dare ask herself.

Lying in her bed, your stepmother is still awake, thinking about the situation. This is starting to really bother her for some reason. She hates to see her daughter be insecure and sad. She doesn't want her to be afraid of getting intimate with someone else. If she doesn't help her now, it might become a problem in the future. What if Minjeong is never going to find the right person?

Eunbi shakes her head in disbelief. That couldn't happen, right? Her daughter really is a good person. And, despite her thinking otherwise, pretty too. She feels her eyelids growing heavier as she starts to drift off to sleep. Eunbi still feels weird, thinking about her daughter's sex life. But she just wants her to be able to love herself. Any mother would do the same. Right?

Eunbi escapes a loud yawn as she leaves her bedroom. Her throat is dry and she is dying of thirst. She is suddenly blinded by the kitchen light as she walks around the corner.

"Argh! Who left the lights on?"

"Sorry, mom."

Eunbi jumps as she hears your voice.

"It's three in the morning. Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"What were you doing?"

"Just looking around. Trying to find something I want to do."

You hear her sigh as she takes a glass out of the shelf behind you.

"You don't have to do that in the middle of the night. Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself?"

As she fills her glass with cold water, you shrug your shoulders.

"I need something to do. Something to earn money, you know? Medicine isn't for me. So what am I supposed to do next? Start studying something else?"

"Would be worth a try."

Eunbi sits down on the other side of the table.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. That's what you have to figure out. What are you interested in?"

"Nothing."

You sigh as you lean back.

"That's not possible. You must have something. Maybe you just don't know what it is yet."

"I don't have time to look around everywhere to find something. I need to start soon, if I want to study."

"Have you talked to anyone about it? You can't be the only one who doesn't know what to do."

While Eunbi drank her water, the two of you kept talking for a while. Eventually, Eunbi convinced you to maybe try an internship. Or ask people you meet why they chose their job.

After she left, you move from the kitchen table to the couch. You keep scrolling online. What would interest you? After a couple more minutes, that question still lingers in your mind as you start to doze off.

"Oppa!"

You almost fall off the couch as you hear her scream. A second later, Minjeong is all over you. You can't get up, because she is lying on top of you, hugging you tightly.

"I missed you so much."

You hug her back, knowing how heartbroken she felt, when you moved out.

You are eventually able to get her small body off you after a couple of minutes.

"How is school?"

"It's alright. I'm staying over at Karina's place over the weekend."

"I see."

You've met Karina before, but that was maybe two or three years ago.

When Minjeong stands in front of you, you realize how beautiful she is. Not in a weird way. More like, you as a brother acknowledge that your sister is beautiful. Nothing else.

Her white headband keeps the blonde hair out of her face. Her sweet smile makes you smile back. Her pink and white jacket covers her otherwise standard school uniform. You can't see her white blouse with her name tag, but her blue skirt jumps up and down as it's owner does the same.

"I'm so happy you're back!"

Minjeong skips into the kitchen, ready to make herself breakfast.

You chuckle as you stand up and follow her. You've never seen her this excited about you being home. Maybe it's just because she hasn't seen you in quite a while.

For the second time today, Eunbi enters the kitchen, while you sit at the table. You are not alone though. Your stepmother smiles as she sees you and Minjeong laughing together. She knows her daughter missed you very much. She is glad you are back and lifting Minjeong's mood a little.

Eunbi sighs as that thought enters her mind again. Her daughter's insecurities made her stay up later than usual. And she can't get that night out of her head. Should she talk to Minjeong again? Maybe it helped her more than she lets on.

Eunbi's thoughts are interrupted by you, telling Minjeong a joke. Your sister laughs out loud, almost tearing up. Eunbi chuckles, always surprised at how you are able to make her laugh like that. It seems like you are the only one who can do it.

Remembering that she still has some work to do before the weekend, Eunbi makes her way towards the basement, leaving the two of you to yourselves. Heading towards the washing machine, Eunbi realizes how nice the temperature is. For the past weeks the heater went crazy for some reason. Sometimes it was too hot and sometimes it was too cold. But now it seems perfect. Eunbi takes a closer look, realizing that someone fixed it. It must have been you. Probably before she got up for that glass of water.

Your stepmother can't help but feel proud. You've become a very well mannered, good looking young man. Despite not knowing much about your dating life, Eunbi is sure that you would make a perfect boyfriend. Your girlfriend would be happy. If only she could find someone like you for your sister.

Eunbi starts to put the dirty clothes into the washing machine. If Winter would have her first time with someone like you, she could be sure that it would be a very nice experience for her. You would be kind, patient if she wants to go slow, and caring and loving. You are the perfect person to do this.

As if lighting struck her, Eunbi's eyes widen as her whole body freezes. What did she just think? You are the best person? For-For taking her daughter's virgnity?

Eunbi shakes her head. What is going on with her? First, she helped her daughter to an orgasm, showing her how to pleasure herself, and now this? How could she even think of both of you that way?

Her cheeks are still a little warmer than usual as Eunbi walks into the kitchen again.

"Quick. You have school soon."

"What's going on?"

You gulp as you and Minjeong get caught red handed. Your sister quickly tries to hide the undone math homework from her mother.

"N-Nothing."

Eunbi is pretty laid back most of the time, but not when it comes to school.

"Is this your homework for today?"

Minjeong nods in defeat.

"It's just a one time thing. I swear."

She looks down at her feet, not brave enough to look at her mother. Eunbi's squinted eyes focus on you.

"I was just trying to help her."

You always feel like a little boy, whenever she looks at you like that. Her voice becomes a little colder, then. More stern.

"You have ten minutes, until she has to go to school."

You don't get why she is angry at you. Shouldn't Minjeong be the one that gets scolded?

Eunbi leaves the room quickly. Why would Minjeong do something like this? She was always doing well in school. Why is she slacking off now?

Is it because of...

"Stop it."

Eunbi says to herself.

"Not everything is about sex."

She suddenly feels bad. She didn't want to take her concerns for Minjeong out on you. That was wrong of her. But the thought that she had earlier made her a little dizzy. How could she think about the two of you like that?

"Start thinking like a normal person again, Kwon Eunbi."

Once Minjeong left for school, you decided to help around the house a little. You've been gone for quite a while and since you quit studying medicine, you don't have much going on right now anyways. That's why you are busy with mowning the lawn right now. And that also makes you the witness of Eunbi's stunning catwalk along the small path in the garden.

You smile at her, happy to see her this relaxed and healthy. Since you and Minjeong are more than capable enough to take care of yourselves now, Eunbi is able to live her own life. Her job enables her to work from home, although you still haven't figured out what it is exactly that she is doing.

"You don't have to do this, honey!"

Eunbi yells at you, while the loud engine of the lawnmower almost drowns out her voice. You come to a hold, turning it off.

"It's alright, Ma. I like doing physical stuff like this."

"You don't need to do so much. Just relax. Figure out what to do."

"I will."

Eunbi nods, satisfied with your response.

You watch her walk towards one of the big sunbeds, her laptop in one hand and a plate with her breakfast in the other. Once she got comfortable, you don't pay much attention to her anymore, wanting to give her her space to work productively.

"It's hot, isn't it?"

You are done mowning the lawn and busy with watering some of Eunbi's plants.

"Yeah. And it's not even the middle of summer."

The water jet of the hose in your hand is aimed at a couple of white roses and a small apple tree.

"Right? It's unbelievable. I wish I could cool off in a pool. But we don't have one."

Eunbi sighs in disappointment. After having put the laptop on the table, which is standing at an arms length next to her, she rises her sunglasses with both hands, letting them rest above her forehead.

"Do you really feel that hot?"

"You don't?"

Eunbi laughs, enjoying her time with you.

"I'm sure I can do something about that."

Before she can react, a jet of cold water barely grazes her body.

"Yah! Don't!"

You take a step closer, a huge grin on your face.

"You said you want to cool off."

"Not like that!"

Eunbi half laughs, half yells, before another stream hits her left leg.

"Don't! I'm serious!"

She quickly gets off the chair, the skin on her wet leg glistens in the sun.

"Relax, mom. Enjoy it."

"Yah!"

Eunbi ducks away as you pretend to aim for her head, the jet of water hits the wall of the house behind her.

"How am I supposed to enjoy this?"

You laugh at her, trying to avoid the water, before you turn it off.

"Like this."

You take your shirt off, which is sticking to your skin and is already drenched in sweat anyway. You put the garden hose into the small apple tree, trying to find the right angle. Once you do, you turn the water back on.

"See? Now get in here."

You open your arms, ready to cool off as you step underneath the self made shower.

Since your eyes are closed, you don't know what Eunbi is doing. When you open them again, you see her standing in front of you.

"This is really nice."

She smiles up at you, water cascading down her body. Soon, her hair, her green top and her denim skirt are drenched.

"Dance with me."

Eunbi wiggles her eyebrows at you, before she starts to jump up and down with joy. Her happy smile makes you smile. Her jumps make you jump too. The two of you start to dance in the water, while you get wetter by the second.

After a couple of minutes, you stop jumping, wanting to calm down. You look at Eunbi who just keeps going. As if she can't get tired.

Your eyes rest on her happy face. Since you were young, you've always wanted to see her this happy. You wanted to make up for what your father did to her.

Without being able to stop it, your eyes travel down her body though. The skin on her neck is glistening with sweat and water. Her naked shoulders look equally nice. You suddenly have the urge to kiss her. To place your lips on her wet skin.

Your eyes finally find her chest. The wet green top sticks to her skin and stretches above her tits. You can see the outlines of her bra, now that her top seems tighter. Her jumps make them bounce up and down. They start to hypnotize you. To draw you in. Up and down. You unconsciously reach out to her, your hand already halfway there. Up and down. Up and....

You shake your head. What the hell is wrong with you? This is your stepmother. You can't think of Eunbi like this. No way. You shake your head again, trying to get rid of the thoughts you just had.

In the meantime, Eunbi has drained her energy. All the jumping has left her breathless. As she finally looks at you again, she could swear you were staring at her. But it was just for a brief moment. Probably a mistake. Why would you stare at Eunbi?

She shrugs it off and is about to step out of the water, when she remembers the thought she had this morning. The right guy for her daughter?

"Thank you, honey."

Eunbi gets on her tiptoes, kisses your cheek and walks out of the makeshift shower, towards the house. You watch her walk away. Instead of just looking after her, your eyes travel along the lines of her body. You catch the sway of her hips, the way her skin sparkles in the sun...

And then she is gone.

The refreshing shower and your thoughts about your stepmother were fuel enough for you to spend the rest of the day in the garden. Cleaning up the stone steps leading towards the front door, cleaning the windows of the living room, getting rid off the reeds, cutting the flowers and bushes properly... It took you quite a while.

In the meantime, Eunbi went grocery shopping. Her mind was only on you the entire time. The thought she had this morning, how you helped Minjeong with her homework, the way you joked around with Eunbi in the garden and...

She can feel her cheeks reden a little as she puts a couple of tomatoes into her shopping cart. ... and the way you took your shirt off, just before stepping into the water. Yes, yes, yes. Eunbi has seen you half naked before. She is your stepmother. She almost raised you. And yet, Eunbi can't help but notice, how you look now. Fully grown, your upper body definitely showing signs of working out, even your hight makes her bite her lip unconsciously as she thinks about it.

Even this morning, she still thought of you as a boy. As her stepson. Nothing more. But now, Eunbi has finally come to realize, that you are much more than that. You are much more than just her stepson.

As she stands in line, waiting to pay for the stuff she is buying, Eunbi's mind wanders. Are you really the perfect man for this? For her daughter? Would it be a good idea to at least try? Maybe it's even for the best?

Eunbi nods her head, almost completely convinced by now. But what about you? Eunbi is pretty sure you've never had a girlfriend. And while you might have the characteristics for being a great lover, you might not have the necessary skills. Maybe she should teach the two of you at the same time?

No no no. That wouldn't work. Hell, she doesn't even know if the two of you would be willing. The two of you are siblings after all. Well, step siblings.

When she enters her car, Eunbi is working out a plan. She would have to convince you first, before she can convince Minjeong. Plus, she has to know if you really are this great.

Eunbi suddenly feels a specific part of her body tingle at the thought. She has never been with someone who was that much younger than her. And especially not with someone who was her stepson.

But this is for the best, right? It would help you and Minjeong. Eunbi is convinced and has it planned out as she enters the driveway. She sees you, still with your shirt off, working in the garden. She bites her lip at the sight.

She has to fuck her stepson.

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems

so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...

Part Two

*.*

"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."

Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.

It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.

But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."

Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.

And all you could do in return was prove his family right.

You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.

Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.

"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."

The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.

Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.

It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.

"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.

Nodding, you said, "Sure."

Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.

The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."

You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't mean—"

You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"

"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."

You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.

You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.

Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.

But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songs—in the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.

Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.

"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."

"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.

Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."

For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.

So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."

"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"

The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you liked—dirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularly—on the street, in line for coffee, at the table—but he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.

You? You would probably just wilt.

When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."

"What kind of dog?"

"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."

You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.

"And you named him Buddy?"

"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.

The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.

"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.

You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."

"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.

Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.

"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."

"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.

You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."

"A party?"

"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.

It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.

You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.

"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.

The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.

After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.

On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"

"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.

"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."

Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.

"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."

"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"

"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."

You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."

"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."

Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."

"Really? No one?"

You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."

"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."

Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.

"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.

"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."

"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."

"See? That wasn't so hard!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."

"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.

The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.

Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.

*.*

On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.

You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.

Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.

Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))

Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.

The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.

The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.

Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.

"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."

Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.

"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."

"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."

"You've never been?"

You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go for—"

For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.

But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."

Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.

"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."

Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.

All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.

You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.

It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.

"H—Hello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.

One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.

"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Finally?"

You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.

"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."

"That is not—That is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.

Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylvia—writers, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.

"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."

There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.

When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.

"Y/n?"

You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.

Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"

Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"

"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."

"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.

Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."

That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.

Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.

*.*

If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.

He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.

Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.

Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.

"See anything you like?"

Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.

Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.

You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.

Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."

"You decided, then?"

"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."

"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.

"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.

His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.

But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.

Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.

Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.

You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.

Hayden: Seems fair.

Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?

Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.

Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.

Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."

"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.

"He did. He's in the NFL now."

"Oh nice You must be—Wait what's his name?"

"Hayden?"

Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.

"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"

You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"

A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"

"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."

Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.

Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.

"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.

"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.

"So, um, he—Evan—he, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."

"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."

That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."

"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"

"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."

You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.

*.*

"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."

You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.

Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.

Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.

On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.

Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.

"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."

"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.

"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."

You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.

"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.

To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.

So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.

You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.

You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.

Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.

It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.

"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.

His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."

"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"

"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she's—"

"Fucked in the head?"

"Larissa! Language!"

"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."

The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.

Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.

But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.

Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.

But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.

In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.

Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx

You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.

Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.

Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))

You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.

You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.

*.*

Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.

Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.

But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.

But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.

Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.

Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."

So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.

"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have to—"

You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.

"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.

The damage was done—once again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.

The next day, you did something you didn't normally do—venture outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.

Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.

After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.

So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.

You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.

But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.

"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."

You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.

"I—I won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"

You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just inside—"

"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."

You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.

Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."

So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.

You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.

You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.

Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.

"What's this?"

No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.

It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.

Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.

"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."

You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.

It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.

Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."

"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."

"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"

The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."

Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.

Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.

It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.

"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What's—"

"Y/n! How good to see you!"

Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.

"H—Hi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."

Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.

Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "Wh—Why—"

"That's for my brother, slut."

"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.

When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like him—like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.

"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.

"I should explain—"

"You don't have to," Harry insisted.

"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."

Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.

Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.

"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.

"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."

Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.

"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."

Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.

You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.

*.*

"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."

Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.

"Y/n, I—" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do you—Do you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"

He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."

You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."

"What?"

Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.

"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"

You shook your head. "He hates me now."

"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."

"His family—"

"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."

You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"

Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.

"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.

"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."

Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.

Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.

Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.

"See you tomorrow!"

Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.

*.*

For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.

But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."

As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."

That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.

"Oh I don't—I mean we're not—I don't think he sees me that way."

That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.

"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"

"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."

"Lunch sounds perfect."

A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friend—you weren't counting Harry—and while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.

"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"

"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."

Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.

"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."

You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.

"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.

"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"

It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.

"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.

After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffee—at a new coffee shop, of course—you stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.

That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusing—in fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging in—but for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.

It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.

Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.

It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.

It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.

So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.

"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.

"What are you working on over there?"

Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"

"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."

"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.

You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.

It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.

Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.

"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."

You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.

"Harry?"

Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."

Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"

After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homes—mainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too long—the two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.

And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.

Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.

"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.

You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.

"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."

"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"

"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.

"What makes you say that?"

You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."

You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.

Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"

You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don't—We—"

"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."

"When?"

"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.

"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.

"New Year's."

"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"

"At game night when he kissed your neck?"

"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"

"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."

Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"

"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"

Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.

You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wanted—his hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.

To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.

"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.

It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.

Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.

"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.

It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.

"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."

Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.

*.*

"You should come with me."

You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.

Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.

"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.

"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."

Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.

"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.

"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"

"W—What about Buddy?"

"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.

You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.

"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.

Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. What—What are we doing here exactly?"

Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."

Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.

"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"

Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"

"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."

"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."

You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."

"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.

"Co-workers don't live together, H."

"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We're—"

Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."

You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."

It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.

You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.

"I understand," he said, standing up with you.

Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.

"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.

"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."

Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.

"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."

Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.

Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.2 Part.3

Masterlist.

Warning: Virgin reader, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Chris shows up in the middle of the night in your room, asking for answers to the exam you both are supposed to take in the following days, and things take an unexpected turn.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

We are on a summer Tuesday evening, the air warm and heavy, the sound of cicadas outside, and the gentle breeze causing tree branches to brush against my window sill, absolute calm. The house was silent; it was already 11:25 PM, the only reason I wasn't asleep? I was busy revising for the upcoming major exam. Honestly, I didn't need to; I had the knowledge and even more, but I'm a perfectionist. Why settle for the minimum when you can achieve much more?

Anyway, I allowed myself to study a bit more tonight since I have no classes tomorrow. I had some music playing in the background, loud enough for me to hear but not too loud to distract me. Tonight, nothing could distract me!

*knock knock knock*

I jumped in surprise when I heard faint noises coming from the window at the other end of my room. I thought I was impossible to distract, but apparently, I was wrong.

I walked slowly towards the window; it was probably my cat scratching to come in. Well, I wasn't sure; what else could it be?

I pulled the curtain covering my window to open it and came face to face with Chris Sturniolo.

WAIT, WHAT? What is that rascal Chris doing at my window? Oh my god, if my parents hear him, I'm done for.

Let me give you a brief recap to better understand the situation and the reason for my current anxiety.

My name is Y/n, and honestly, there's not much to say about me. I'm a quiet girl, the complete opposite of what one would consider "cool" and "popular." I'm disciplined, polite, courteous, studious, discreet – in short, the perfect little girl who will have a good diploma, an excellent job in an excellent city, and an excellent family. I do what is expected of me without questioning, and I never, I repeat, NEVER go against the rules.

Chris, on the other hand, is Chris. If I were a boy, I would be absolutely the opposite of that guy. He plays on the high school lacrosse team with his brother. He's a real jerk – sorry, I don't want to sound vulgar, but he's a real jerk. He spends his time skipping classes to do who knows what with who knows who. He thinks he's "cool" and "popular" because all the girls run after him, but the truth is, he's just a good-looking guy with a devilish behavior. Back in elementary school, I had a crush on him; when he found out, he mocked me, and he never stopped, even now in high school. So, yes, he's an immature jerk.

What could Chris possibly be doing at my window in the middle of the night when my parents are at home? My father has always been strict about no boys in my room, and certainly not in the middle of the night?

"Are you going to let me in?" he said, looking up at me.

"Absolutely not! How do you know where I live? You can't stay here; you have to leave now!" I shouted in a panic, looking around to make sure no one saw him here.

"Let me in, and I'll answer all your little questions," he said with a smirk.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself, bringing my hand to my forehead. "No, Chris, you don't understand; my parents are here. If they know there's a boy at my window—"

"Okay, if you don't let me in, I'll knock on the front door, pretending to be your boyfriend. It's up to you," he said, cutting me off before moving away from my window.

"NO! Okay, fine, come in," I sighed. "Damn, damn, damn," I muttered to myself as I moved away from the window to lock the door to my room.

"Your room is cool," he said, dropping onto my bed as if it were his own. "What's his name?" he added, picking up a stuffed animal lying on my bed.

"Get your filthy body off my clean bed, please," I snapped, grabbing my stuffed animal from his hands with a brisk motion.

"Relax; I just wanted to chat," he said, rolling his eyes before getting up to move towards me. "Nice pajamas," he said with a smirk, scanning my body with his eyes.

I blushed uncontrollably; I was wearing really short shorts and an equally short tank top. What? It's fine; I know what you're thinking. I'll stop you right there; it's summer, it's super hot, and I didn't anticipate Mr. Troublemaker's surprise visit.

"What do you want?" I asked timidly, stuttering and crossing my arms to hide my stomach. I hated having my body exposed in front of others; it made me feel vulnerable.

"I need your help for the exam coming up next week," he said, moving towards my desk. "And before you refuse to help me, I have an offer you can't refuse!" he said, turning to me, leaning against my desk this time.

"And did you have to come and ask for my help in the middle of the night, Chris, seriously?" I replied, annoyed.

"I stole the test papers from the teachers' lounge. If you help me, you can memorize all the answers by heart," he said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

I laughed when he presented his "impossible to refuse" offer. What an idiot. "If you think that I, Y/n, will help you cheat on the most important exam of the year, you're way dumber than I thought."

"Oh yeah? You seemed pretty bothered by the bad grade you got in gym yesterday," he said, advancing towards me. "You know, I know the coach really well, well enough to be able to change your grade."

Damn, it was the only grade below average I had all year. It's true that it would be convenient to make it disappear. What? No, Y/n, you're crazy; this is Chris we're talking about, he's a manipulator, and you're falling into his trap. Oh my god, stop; I need to get him out of here.

"Why do you want me to help you? Find the answers yourself," I replied, giving him a dark look.

"Because I don't feel like it, and you love this kind of thing," he said, rolling his eyes. "Y/n, it's beneficial for both of us. Look, you ensure you get 100% on the exam, in addition to seeing your gym grade increase, and it will save me from repeating this year."

"Get out of my room, Chris; I'm not going to help you cheat. It's bad," I said, crossing my arms.

"Bad? Who do you think you are? Come on, we don't care; it's just an exam!" he said, laughing.

"You don't care, but I do," I said, pointing to the window he came in through.

He smiled arrogantly before licking his lips, looking at me. "You're more tenacious than I thought," he said, plunging his eyes into mine. "I like that."

I won't lie; his words made me a little nervous at the moment. Okay, I said he was a big jerk,

not that he was ugly!

"Oh, are you blushing because of me? Does what I say affect you?" he said, slowly approaching me.

"G-Get out of my room," I said weakly, stepping back.

"Why? You don't want me to leave your room, Y/n. Don't lie to me; I know you like me," he said confidently, continuing to advance towards me until my back hit the door of my room.

I swallowed hard as I felt my throat tighten due to the proximity between us. "You're insane. I would have to be crazy to like a guy like you," I said timidly, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sure I can drive you crazy," he said, grabbing my chin to force me to look him in the eyes.

A wave of heat engulfed me; I slightly opened my mouth to get more air. My heartbeat accelerated; I must be all red now.

"Listen," he said, getting even closer to me. "If you help me with this exam," he said, placing his hand in the small of my back, "in addition to the things I've already offered you," he said, slowly lowering his hand to my hip, "I can also show you a few things you might like," he said softly, plunging his eyes into mine.

I cleared my throat. "What are you talking about?" I said all timid.

"Oh, come on, Y/n, you know exactly what I'm talking about; you're dying for it. Look at yourself," he said with an arrogant smile. "And if you want to know, I'm dying for it too," he whispered in my ear, making my knees weak.

"Stop lying, you don't give a damn about me. You're acting like an asshole with me; you only want the answers to this exam," I said, stuttering and trying not to be swayed by his sweet words.

"Y/n, I know where you live because I follow you after school every day to make sure nothing happens to you on the way," he said, moving his face a few centimeters away from mine. "I spend my time teasing you in the hope of getting closer to you," he added, running his hand over my cheek. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have even noticed the bad grades you're getting in PE," he said, rolling his eyes.

If these were lies, then he's a very good liar. Oh my god, my mother always warned me about bad boys like Chris, but I felt like fainting when his hand tightened a little more around my hip. "Chris—"

"You know what, screw this exam; I'll study it on my own. Let me kiss you, and I promise to leave your room and never bother you about this exam again," he said, almost sounding desperate. Wait, is he serious? Chris has a crush on me? I must be dreaming; it can't be possible.

"Chris, if this is a joke, it's really not funny," I said uncertainly, furrowing my brow when he moved his face closer to mine.

"I'm dead serious," he said, fixing his gaze on my lips.

My eyes were switching between his and his lips; I didn't know what to do. I was bewildered by the situation until Chris placed his soft lips on mine. My eyes instinctively closed to better savor the moment. I was kissing the most handsome guy in high school in my room, just like in the movies. His hand slid under my shorts to grab my buttock, making me sigh in surprise during our kiss. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, dancing with mine. He started smiling against my lips when he heard a pathetic moan die in our kiss as he began to knead my buttocks.

"Chris," I said, separating our lips and pushing him by his chest.

"What?" he said with a confused look as I moved away from him.

"We're not going to do this," I told him, shaking my head. "My parents are here; you can't just barge into my room in the middle of the night and coerce me with sex to get the answers to this damn exam," I said, offended.

"Y/n, I don't care about the exam. I did all this to get closer to you!" he said, taking a step towards me.

I stepped back when he tried to grab my hand to hold it in his. "Okay, prove it," I said, crossing my arms. "You said you would leave me alone about this exam and leave my room if I let you kiss me," I added, heading to the window to open it again.

He opened his mouth to speak before changing his mind, shaking his head.

"Show me you're not a liar," I said, pointing to the window.

He sighed before moving towards the window. "I'm not a liar, Y/n," he said, furrowing his brow before starting to pass his legs through the window.

There, I was finally rid of him. I should feel relieved, right? So why does something deep inside me break seeing him leave?

Without thinking, before he had time to pass through my window entirely, I grabbed him by his T-shirt to kiss him again. I couldn't let him go like that. I don't know what was happening to me, but everything was screaming at me to throw myself on his lips and never leave them.

He straightened up before closing the window with one hand. His other hand came to caress my cheek.

I had absolutely no idea what I was doing; we headed towards my desk without paying attention. He grabbed the back of my thighs to make me sit on my desk just behind me. His lips left mine to move towards my neck, his arms tightened around my waist, and my thighs surrounded his.

"Do you still want me to leave your room now?" he said arrogantly.

"Shut up," I said, feeling my breath quicken when he started sucking on the skin of my neck between his lips. "Chris, you can't leave marks," I said, a little panicked.

"Why not? You're mine," he said authoritatively, raising his face in front of mine and grabbing my throat in his hand.

"First, I'm not yours, Chris, and second, my father will kill me if he sees hickies on my neck," I said, chuckling timidly at his reaction.

Without a word, he began kissing my neck again before slowly moving towards my chest, making me anxious. "What are you doing?" I asked, stuttering.

"I'm leaving my mark where I'm sure no one else will see it," he whispered before grabbing the fabric of my tank top to slightly uncover my breast and place his lips on it.

"Chris—" I said, jumping when he started sucking a hickey on that sensitive area.

I could feel shivers running through my entire body; my back arched, and my thighs instinctively tightened around his waist while a few silent moans escaped my lips.

"Are you always this sensitive, or am I the one making you feel this way?" he said, raising his head towards me with a big smile.

I started blushing uncontrollably when he said that; I didn't even have a response to his question. I had never done anything like this with a boy before.

"Did you lose your tongue?" he asked, tilting his head to the side before coming to fix a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I-I don't know," I said in an almost inaudible voice. "Is it wrong?" I asked, embarrassed.

"No, not at all," he said, frowning. "What do you mean by 'I don't know'?" he asked, confused.

"I—" I didn't know what to answer. A silence settled at that moment; he looked me in the eyes before realizing.

"You've never done anything with a boy?" he asked, surprised.

I simply shook my head from side to side, too embarrassed to say anything.

His arrogant smile covered his lips a few seconds later. "Do you want me to teach you?"

My eyes widened when I heard that. I hesitated for a moment before nodding timidly.

"Use words, princess," he said, stroking my waist to encourage me to speak.

"I want you to teach me how to do it," I said, feeling a wave of confidence in myself.

He smiled before kissing me again; this time our kiss was slow and gentle, as if to reassure me. His hands played with the hem of my tank top. "Can I take this off?" he asked calmly.

"Take yours off first," I asked directly. I didn't want to be the only one exposed for some reason. My statement made him chuckle, and he separated from my lips to remove his t-shirt.

I took a moment to observe him. Unconsciously, I started biting my lips, and Chris smiled at my reaction. "It's your turn now," he said, moving towards me again.

Once again, I hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you know," he said without breaking eye contact.

His words were enough to make me feel comfortable. I took my tank top off over my head without overthinking it. "But I want to," I said before covering my chest, feeling a wave of embarrassment engulf me.

Chris immediately grabbed my arms. "You don't need to hide from me, Y/n," I let him remove my arms from the way, and he directed his eyes to my chest, licking his lips. "You're beautiful," he said before pressing his lips against mine once again.

I felt more and more at ease with him. My hands, which were previously at the back of his neck, started to travel along his chest down to his waist, where he hastily seized my wrist. "Slow down, princess."

"What? Did I do it wrong? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" I asked, panicking. He chuckled at my reaction.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he said, smiling. "We have all the time in the world, don't rush yourself," he whispered before kissing my neck again.

My hand found its place in his hair, and he gradually directed his kisses towards my chest, prompting me to throw my head back at the new sensation of his lips around my nipples.

One of his hands slipped between my thighs, making me jump and tilt my head forward at the proximity of his hand to my sensitive area.

He began to gently caress my pussy through my clothes, causing a silent moan to escape my lips.

I could feel my head starting to spin due to all this sudden stimulation; I couldn't help but squirm in all directions. "Can I take off your shorts?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Y-yes," I replied timidly before he slowly removed my shorts and resumed kissing me, this time moving down to my stomach, making me breathe harder.

He stopped kissing me when he reached the level of my white panties to examine them closely. "You're so wet that I can see the trace on your panties," he said with a smirk.

Embarrassment washed over me. "I'm sorry," I said softly, trying to close my thighs, but he grabbed them to force me to keep them open.

"Don't be," he said, bringing his head closer to my thighs. "I like it," he said, planting a kiss on my clothed pussy, making me shiver. "You're so sensitive; I bet I could make you come in less than 5 minutes with my tongue," he said, running his fingers between the fabric of my panties and my skin.

"Do you want me to do it?" he asked, looking up at me with a sly smile. I timidly nodded. "Say it," he said in a firm tone.

"What?" I asked, a bit embarrassed.

"If you want me to do it, you'll have to ask me, Y/n," he said arrogantly.

"Chris," I said in a frustrated moan; I could see his smile widening, amused by the situation. He returned to plant another kiss on my still-clothed pussy. "I-I want you to make me come with your tongue," I said, almost inaudibly moaning.

"Anything you want, princess," he said satisfied before removing my panties. I lifted my hips to help him, and he placed a few kisses around my sensitive area before putting my legs over his shoulders and diving his head between my legs.

The upper part of my body leaned forward slightly at the sensation of his lips around my clit. Instinctively, my hand pressed into his long, wavy hair, and I couldn't control the soft moans that escaped me. "Y/n, quiet down; your parents will hear you," he said, chuckling against me before getting back to work.

His tongue applied pressure to my clit, driving me wild. One of his hands reached for my breasts to play with them, mainly to prevent me from squirming all over my desk, which kept creaking. He moved his tongue in circular motions, gradually increasing the speed. After a few seconds, I felt something new in my lower abdomen, as if it were knotting due to the pressure. My thighs started to tighten slightly around his face without me realizing it. When I lowered my eyes to look at him, I could see his beautiful blue eyes already fixed on me, admiring me as if I were his last meal.

My eyebrows furrowed when all this stimulation started to take over. "Chris," I struggled to say in a weak voice; it felt like I was about to faint. "Oh my—fucking god," I said, throwing my head back and covering my mouth with my hand.

Chris didn't stop; on the contrary, he accelerated his movements, and his grip on my breasts became much firmer. He started moaning between my legs, and the vibrations of his moans against my clit were enough to push me over the edge. My legs began to tremble. "Fuck—Chris," I said before reaching orgasm on his face.

He slowed down the movement of his tongue before completely stopping to let me ride out my orgasm. "I told you," he said, straightening up and using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, "less than 5 minutes."

I chuckled at his remark, "You never stop boasting, huh?" I said with a smile, and his hands came around my cheeks before placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Never," he said, smiling before I reconnected our lips, making him smile at my hungry kiss. "What do you want?" he asked, separating our lips.

"I want to pleasure you too," I replied, playing with his necklace. He licked his lips, looking into my eyes.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, pressing his pelvis against mine to make me feel his erection through his pants, and I nodded.

"Yes, that's what I want," I said with an innocent look.

He immediately reconnected our lips without waiting a second longer, then grabbed the back of my thighs to carry me to my bed.

He gently placed me at the edge of the bed before leaning forward to kiss me again. "If you want us to stop, let me know," I brought my hands to his belt to remove it while he looked at me with desire.

I lowered his pants and stared at his erect member. Suddenly, panic resurfaced. "You don't have to do this," he said, bringing his hand to my cheek.

I looked up to meet his reassuring gaze. "I don't know how to do it," I said timidly, "but I want to." I added, placing my hand on his thigh.

"Do what feels right, I'll guide you," he said, never taking his eyes off me, as I slid down his boxers to his ankles.

The apprehension and stress were still there, but it was too late; after all, I was already committed. I really wanted it; I was just terribly afraid of messing up. I stopped overthinking and took his member in my hand, giving him a look to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. He nodded to indicate I should continue. I began hesitant strokes with my hand, eliciting a moan from his mouth.

His hand came to caress the top of my head, and I threw him a last uncertain glance before taking him into my mouth. He flinched and took a step back when I started, and I immediately looked up at him in panic. "Sorry," I apologized embarrassedly.

"No, don't be. It's okay; you just need to avoid letting your teeth touch it. It's not very pleasant," he explained in a reassuring voice before coming back towards me.

I nodded, and this time, I made sure my teeth didn't touch him. His hand returned to my hair. "Yeah, like that," he moaned, making my pussy clench at the tone of his voice. I continued my movements with closed eyes. "You can use your hand for what you can't fit in your mouth," he said weakly, and I did as he instructed. I could feel how much he was holding back from thrusting into my mouth to avoid rushing me, and the muffled sounds from his mouth sent an electric shock to my pussy.

"Fuck, you need to stop," he said, throwing his head back. I pulled away and looked up at him, confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, feeling lost.

"No, baby, you did a great job. It's just that I was about to come," he said, caressing my cheek and catching his breath.

"Oh," I said, chuckling. "Maybe you can come inside me?" I said without thinking, excited by the moment; I wanted more.

"Y/n," he said, diving his eyes into mine before I got up, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him again. "Is this really what you want?" he asked before reconnecting our lips.

"Please," I said pathetically, guided by my desires and excitement at that moment. My hands tangled in his hair, and his hands firmly gripped my hips.

"I don't have a condom, princess," he emphasized, smiling against my lips.

"I have..." I said timidly before heading to my bedside table to take out a new box of condoms.

A sly smile appeared, and I could already feel his remarks coming. So, before he had a chance to say anything, I cut him off, "I'm a virgin, not irresponsible, Chris," I said, rolling my eyes when I stood in front of him.

"I didn't say anything," he said, chuckling, before pushing me onto the bed and positioning himself above me to kiss me again. "Are you sure this is really what you want, Y/n?" he asked, directing his lips to my neck. "I don't want you to feel forced into anything. What we've done already is more than enough for now," he added.

"Jeez, Chris, stop talking," I said, chuckling, before grabbing his head between my hands to kiss him even more passionately than before.

"Are you that impatient?" he said, chuckling. "I need to stretch you a bit first, okay?" he said, directing his fingers towards my entrance. I simply nodded, and he pushed the first finger inside, prompting me to raise my head at the sensation. "Is it okay?"

"Yes, you can add another finger," I said, feeling my breath quicken. He inserted a second finger and began to move them in and out to stretch me.

"I wish your parents weren't here so I could hear you better, Y/n. You make beautiful sounds," he said, burying his head in my neck and curling his fingers inside me to stretch me further.

"Chris," I said, moaning and pulling slightly on his hair, "I need more."

"Do you think you're ready?" he asked, looking into my eyes. He had never looked at me like that before; his gaze was tender and caring.

"Yes," I replied, nodding. He grabbed a condom and opened it with his mouth. I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn't going to back down. I was going to do it; I was ready to do it.

He put on the condom and positioned himself at my entrance. "Tell me if you want me to stop, and I'll do it immediately," he said, and I nodded. "It might hurt a bit at the beginning if it's too much for you—"

"Chris, just do it," I said, cutting him off when I felt the stress overwhelm me.

He began to push slowly inside me, scrutinizing any sign of discomfort on my face. My eyebrows furrowed at the burning sensation when he started penetrating me. "Fuck," I said, glancing down to see what was happening between my legs before letting my head fall back on the pillow. He stopped halfway to make sure it wasn't too much for me. "Don't stop," I said, breathing quickly, and he resumed his advance until he touched the depth, prompting me to bury my head in his neck to muffle a moan.

"Are you okay?" he asked without moving from where he was.

"Yes, you can move," I said before he began to make slow thrusts. At first, it burned a little; it was uncomfortable, but with each subsequent movement, the pain transformed into pleasure.

"Oh my god, you're so tight, Y/n, fuckkk," he said, moaning against my lips. His thrusts gradually accelerated, and my hand gripped his bicep.

"It-feels good," I admitted, moaning softly and clenching my jaw.

"I've dreamt of this for so long; it's even better than in my dreams," he said, gripping onto my hips.

"You dreamed of this?" I asked him, confused, not knowing if he was being honest with what he was saying.

"Mhm," he simply hummed before lowering his free hand between our bodies to massage my clit. "You're mine now," he said in my ear, and my grip around his bicep tightened with the stimulation he was providing at that moment. His hip movements accelerated again, knotting my lower abdomen for the second time tonight. "Say it," he added in an authoritative tone.

"I'm yours, Chris," I said with the little strength I had left. My mind didn't know where to focus at that moment.

"Yes, and this pussy is mine too, Y/n," he said, moaning in my ear, driving me crazy. "I want you to cum again for me, princess," he said, accelerating his thrusts, yet still gentle and delicate.

My eyes rolled back, and my legs tightened around him. "Let go, princess," he said breathlessly. "Cum all over me." With his words, I threw my head back and started clenching around him. "Fuck, I can feel you clenching around me, baby," he said, burying his head in my neck, and I started to climax. I grabbed his hand, placing it over my mouth to muffle any noise, and shortly after, he climaxed too.

"Oh my god," I said before he let all his weight fall on me, moaning one last time.

"I never want to move from here," he said, smiling against my neck.

"You'll have to before my parents wake up," I said, chuckling. "It's already a miracle they didn't hear us," I said, running my hand through his hair.

He sat up and withdrew from me before tossing the condom into my trash bin. I sat up, covering myself with my blanket. "Will this happen again?" I asked him timidly, looking at him as he put on his boxers.

"Of course, it will, princess," he said, smiling, before sitting next to me and rubbing my thigh. "Can I stay a little longer?" he asked, locking his eyes with mine, and I nodded.

He settled next to me, pulling me close and gently running his hand over my curves. "Send me the exam tomorrow; I don't have class. I'll give you the answers," I told him, looking up at him.

"I thought this was bad, and good girls like you don't do these kinds of things," he said, chuckling and furrowing his brows.

"Good girls like me aren't supposed to sleep with bad boys like you," I replied, straddling him to be on top, and he sat up to kiss me.

"I told you I'd drive you crazy," he said, smiling against my lips.

Masterlist.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Rainy Days

"I'm allowed to compile these things!" My protest appeared to fall on deaf ears, as the affini slid inside my door anyway. I turned to face her as she went, hands on my hips. "Is it illegal to compile a nice warm blanket?"

The affini scoffed. "Of course not, dear. But putting aside that the concept of illegality as a whole isn't really accurate in the Compact, you didn't just compile a nice fuzzy blanket, did you?"

"I…w-well…" I shrugged, my eyes suddenly far more interested in my floor than the bundle of plant in front of me.

"You also appear to have compiled twenty pillows of various shapes and sizes, all extra stuffed…a scented candle with mild Class-E effects…twelve plushies, all of which hold startling resemblance to your childhood ones…and this." She held up a gallon tub of Extra Chocolatey ice cream, with chocolate syrup and brownie bits added into the mix. At the flat look she gave me, I finally felt the cracks surface in my bottom lip quivering.

"I…I had a really bad day, and its my time of the month, and my friends were all going out to a party and…I just couldn't keep pretending it was alright." The words were a raw and quivering whisper that flayed my throat to tear out.

In a flash she was over to me, wrapping me around in a hug that seemed to draw the pain away like venom pulled from a wound. She ran a hand around the back of my head, stroking softly as she knelt there. She didn't speak for a while; I think she saw I needed something else first.

Finally she pulled away slightly, letting me see her eyes, the soft blue of a rainy evening. "Its okay to be tired. Its okay. And its also okay to stop pretending and rest. You did so well, dear. Come on, let's go sit in your little nest." She picked me up easily, my legs swaying in the movement. I found myself in the lap of a stranger, some affini sent for a quick Wellness Check- and yet I couldn't bear the idea of her leaving me here alone.

"Please stay the night?"

"Of course, dear. I'm here for as long as you need me. Now then, open wide! I'm going to fill you with enough ice cream that you get a mouth freeze."

Tomorrow I would be brave. Tomorrow I would ask for help, and smile my brightest smile, and I will move forward.

But tonight I could be small. Tonight I could let those tears fall, and hold her tight, and let it all go.

[ashwhowrites]

Hey, if you hadn't already done something like this, I was wondering if you'll write Eddie x Popular!Henderson!R, where they're sneaking around behind Dustin's back.... 1. Because Dustin looks up to him and they're friends and 2. She's not ready to let everyone know just yet (wanting to live in ignorant bliss just a little while longer before she falls under scrutiny for falling for "the freak").

And so, when one of her friends decides to hook her up on a date, she can't exactly refuse, so she goes along with it to shut her up, without letting Eddie know, of course. And during a game of dnd, Dustin let's it slip where you are for the night, unknowingly sending Eddie into a spiral, thinking she's cheating and that's why she wants to keep them a secret and after having an internal battle, he cuts the campaign short, surprising everyone, and he crashes her date, with hellfire in toe, demanding answers. And then everyone finds out and she explains blah blah and they live happily ever after. Sorry, this was long xx

This was so fun! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Dustin's friend

When Dustin said he found a new friend, that was yet again years older than him, Y/N wasn't too pleased. First, it was Steve, and now a guy named Eddie. But when Y/N met Eddie for the first time, she couldn't care less about the age gap between him and her brother, all that mattered was that he was around her age and single.

Eddie still wasn't sure how he managed to get Dustin's hot popular sister to go out with him. Whatever he did, he thanked god for it because having Y/N on his lap with her tongue down his throat was his heaven.

"Missed you so much," Y/N whined, her hips moving against Eddie's as she yanked off his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you too." Eddie moaned as Y/N sucked down his chest. She left her marks to travel south until she was just above his boxers.

"MOM WANTS YOU," Dustin screamed as he pounded on Y/N's locked door.

"Damn it," Eddie sighed and hung his head.

"BE RIGHT THERE," Y/N screamed back, she sighed and stood up. She handed Eddie his shirt with a sad smile. "Sorry, Eds."

"Fuckers are giving me blue balls. Are you sure we can't tell him? Maybe he'd stop interrupting as much." Eddie glared towards the door. He stood up and threw on his jeans.

"You know I'm not ready for all of that yet." Y/N sighed.

"Fine, I'll go home and finish the old-fashioned way." Eddie joked, smirking as he walked backward to her window, his eyes on her.

"Maybe I'll come over and join you, later." She winked. She kissed Eddie goodbye and waited for him to leave. Then she went to see what her mom wanted.

~~~

Y/N knew hiding her relationship with Eddie was hard and tiring. And she felt guilty every time she had to act like Eddie wasn't everything to her. But she was scared. She was scared to take away Dustin's friend, worried she overstepped. She was terrified it would ruin their friendship because of the bro code. And selfishly, she was scared of the damage it would do to her social life.

"I'm telling you, he has been begging me for a date with you. You are single and have no reason to say no." Chrissy whined.

"My reason to say no is that I don't want to," Y/N said, rolling her eyes as she slammed her locker shut.

She whined when Chrissy followed.

"Like you have anything going on tomorrow night, anyway?" Chrissy argued, her eyes taunting.

Y/N technically had nothing going on tomorrow, Dustin and Eddie had hellfire so both boys were busy.

"Stop thinking of an excuse and just go. Then if you hate it, I will never set you up again." Chrissy promised.

"Deal," Now Y/N could get Chrissy off her back.

~~~

"We are kicking ass today! I wish Y/N were here to see it." Dustin cheered. Y/N had spent more time watching Hellfire since she had to pick Dustin up anyway.

"Why isn't she?" Eddie asked, he prayed it sounded casual. He read ahead on his notes to look like he didn't care too much.

"On a date." Dustin shrugged, playing his next move. No one had the table had any idea that sentence sent Eddie into a panic. Sweat on his forehead as his leg shook beneath the table.

His girlfriend was on a date, with another guy.

It all made sense, she wanted him to be a secret because she was seeing someone. Dustin knew about the guy, and he couldn't know about Eddie. Because then her secret would be exposed. Like it just was.

"Where?" Eddie snapped, his angry tone had the table looking at him in seconds.

"Enzo's," Dustin said confused.

"Get in the van," Eddie snapped as he grabbed his keys.

~

The rest of hellfire sat confused as Eddie raced to the restaurant. He was silent but gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The boys followed as Eddie stormed out of the van and into the restaurant.

Eddie felt a wave of heartache flood in his chest when he saw her with him with his own eyes. She looked beautiful as she talked about something he couldn't hear.

"Why are we here? Why do you care about my sister?" Dustin asked, but Eddie already was moving.

His heavy boots hit the floor hard, and his hand slammed on the table. The couple jumped and fear showed in Y/N's eyes when Eddie leaned down to her level.

Face to face, Eddie's hard breathing smacked Y/N's face. She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she saw hellfire behind him. Her brother watching with confusion.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" She said through clenched teeth, trying to keep the conversation between them.

"Demanding why the fuck my girlfriend is on a date with another guy." Eddie snapped, his eyes dark as he glared at her. She knew he had every right to be mad, but she didn't want a scene.

She stood up, and Eddie straightened up. His eyes haven't left her, not even glancing at the stranger across from her.

"Can I please explain later? In private." She whispered, her eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder as the boys watched.

"No, I'm tired of this private shit. Explain right here, right now. Or we are done." Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up, he wished on every star above him there was a way to make this relationship work.

"Eddie please." She whispered, her watery eyes pleading for him to back off until they could talk. "Not right now in front of everyone." Eddie tried to ignore her tears, not letting himself get sucked into her guilt trap.

"Fine, forget it. I'll see you around, Henderson." Eddie said coldly as he nodded and backed off. Y/N felt frozen in her spot as Eddie went out the door.

"Y/N?" Dustin spoke up, his hand reaching towards her.

In seconds she was running out the door.

"What is going on?" the random date asked.

"Shh man," Mike said, sliding into the booth next to him. He pointed out the window, a clear view of the couple. The boys followed, all sitting in the big booth as they stared out the window.

~

"I'm sorry! I got scared but please." Y/N cried as she tugged on Eddie's arm.

"Scared because you got caught. I can't believe you could do this to me. What about all that love bullshit? This is what you do when you love someone?" Eddie argued, hot tears in his eyes.

"I do love you! Nothing between us is bullshit. Chrissy was on my back for weeks about going on a date with this guy! I never agreed until she said If I went on it, she'd never do it again! I promise you I was just trying to get her off my back. I was going to tell her I hated it and finally have peace of just being with you."

"You know what else brings peace? Finally admitting to other people that you are in love with me," Eddie said sadly, "I'm tired of being your secret. I can't keep doing it."

Y/N sobbed as she reached forward and held his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll tell Dustin and everyone. Please just give me a chance to make this up to you." Y/N begged, Eddie sniffled as he looked into her eyes.

"I love you too," he smiled, and Y/N felt relief in her bones. "You took a chance on me, so I'll take the chance on you."

Y/N smiled and leaned forward, Eddie met her halfway and smashed his lips on hers. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

~

"Oh my god!" The boys all said at once, the random date was long gone.

"Eddie and my sister?"

"Dude! Eddie is banging your sister!" Mike teased

"Is he touching her ass?" Lucas gasped as he moved closer to the window

"Oh, that is so much tongue." Gareth chuckled.

"Our boy is making out with a popular girl!" Jeff cheered, high fives all around the table, except for Dustin who sat in a state of shock.

~

"YOU ARE SCREWING MY SISTER?"

Eddie and Y/N jumped as Dustin screamed.

"DUSTIN!" Y/N screamed as Dustin ran straight into Eddie and took him to the ground.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst

Length: 5900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.

"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."

"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment. 

"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."

You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family. 

"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest. 

When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."

"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.

The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."

You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"

He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."

"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"

Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted. 

As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway. 

You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.

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

By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask. 

But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.

So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"

"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.

"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say. 

"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.

"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"

You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."

After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday. 

The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies. 

Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you. 

Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."

"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"

"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.

Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob. 

"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him. 

"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."

You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."

He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."

Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food. 

"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."

"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.

You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy. 

Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder. 

"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.

After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."

Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly. 

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

Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling. 

He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home. 

You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.

Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom. 

"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead. 

After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."

He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want." 

Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.

"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time. 

"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"

He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."

You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."

He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."

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

When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.

"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace. 

The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne. 

You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping. 

It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself. 

While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp. 

Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.

When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.

You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.

Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.

"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.

Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.

"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours. 

"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned. 

You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."

"I didn't like her touching you."

His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."

You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."

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

Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago. 

When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans. 

He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned. 

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top. 

"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted. 

He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.

"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."

He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"

You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."

And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.

On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off. 

He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation. 

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

You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense. 

No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night. 

As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep. 

"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."

Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."

Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."

"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."

"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."

Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."

You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now. 

It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you. 

"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"

"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.

"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"

"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."

Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed. 

You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.

"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."

You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."

He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"

You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"

He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying. 

"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick. 

"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around. 

"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled." 

"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."

He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"

You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out. 

When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start. 

You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet. 

"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.

When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.

You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper. 

Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes. 

Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted. 

You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty. 

"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.

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

Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[baby-taurus]

SFW boyfriend!chris headcanons

୨୧ chris never believed in love until you came into his life, and he always manages to show you how much he loves you. getting you flowers for any occasion (or just because), showering you with compliments or just getting you gifts in general

slowly opening your eyes you turn to your right, noticing your boyfriend already gone, still looking over confused and wondering where chris went you turn back on your back, realizing that he had told you yesterday night that he had to leave early to go filming. you swing your legs out of the bed, taking your phone in your hand and head into your kitchen. on the counter stood a vase with a flower bouquet, you smile to yourself already knowing who put these there, next to the bouquet is a little folded white piece of paper. you walk over and pick up the note. "i'm sorry that we can't spend the day together, i'm taking you out tonight, i love you baby"

୨୧ chris always has his hands on you. he always has to touch you in some kind, doesn't matter where you are or what you are doing.

"chris, stop i can't concentrate." you laugh. you were sitting on chris' bed, leaning against his headboard and doing your college homework which needed to be done by tomorrow. chris couldn't stop laying his head on your shoulder or poking you in the sides so you would pay attention to him. "can't you do them later?" he takes your face with both his hands and gently kisses you all over you face. "I'm almost done!" you laugh while he kisses you. you try to free yourself from his grip but he started to tickle you, making you unable to protect yourself. "okay,okay! i'll do them later" chris finally stops, proud of himself that he got it his way. he pulls you into a tight hug, laying down and pressing your head against his chest while he gives you a forehead kiss.

୨୧ chris is jealous. he doesn't want anyone near his girl and gets furious when someone crosses that line

"his hand is on your fucking ass y/n!" chris said irritated. you were at one of tara's parties yesterday, without chris. chris didn't want to let you go out alone at first, but since he had a meeting today morning he decided to just let you anyway. the reason why chris wasn't so sure of it, is because he doesn't like carrington. he always thought that carrington had a thing for you. chris send you a screenshot today morning, it was a picture someone took of you and carrington, however according to chris, carrington's hand was a little bit too close on your lowerback, your ass. he immediately got an uber and rushed to your house. "i didn't even noticed." you took the phone out of chris' hand to look at the picture. chris looked mad, really mad, not at you but at carrington. "you will never go to one of their parties alone again, gotta show him who you belong to"

[asonofpeter]

Night Shift

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....

Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work. 

“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled. 

You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.

“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours. 

You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.

“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked. 

“I bet she did,” he chuckled. 

“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck. 

Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something. 

“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.

“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.

“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan. 

“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her. 

It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day. 

“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two. 

Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.

Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets. 

You would get there one day. 

“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.

“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled. 

“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.

“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.

The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.

Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.

“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised. 

“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around. 

The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.

He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.

~

You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.

“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.

“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled. 

“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 

The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep. 

“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door. 

“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.

“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room. 

After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.

“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch. 

“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.

“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime. 

You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.

“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded. 

The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left. 

“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile. 

“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. 

“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.

~

“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask. 

You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up. 

About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.

“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet. 

“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach. 

“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.

“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer. 

“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy. 

“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie. 

“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.

You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.

“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.

“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.

“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall. 

Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately. 

“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.

Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.

Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview? 

“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out. 

Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense. 

“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.

“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern. 

“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward. 

“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room. 

“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky. 

Nothing was okay.

~

Reblogs are the best!

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 19 - Careless Whisper by George Michael

Eddie had been gone a week.

They'd never been apart this long. Eddie had asked Steve if he'd wanted to come but he couldn't, he had work and he knew Eddie would be busy on the trip anyway.

"I'll be back before you know it, baby."

Eddie and the band were in Chicago, recording what was hopefully going to be the proper demo of a possible real and released album. Steve was excited for them but it didn't stop him from missing his boyfriend.

He tried to keep busy, picking up extra shifts on top of his scheduled ones, reorganising their apartment, movie nights with Robin and dinner at the Henderson's. The apartment felt empty without Eddie in it though.

They moved there almost a year ago, happy to have their own space away from Steve's parents and giving Wayne back a bedroom. It was perfect, it was theirs.

Eddie had called a couple times but both times were late at night, both the boys tired from their long days. It helped to fall asleep hearing Eddie's voice, he missed his warmth in their bed.

He hoped Eddie was having fun, he sounded like he was, talking about the sights and the sounds and the people. He sounded happy. They'd talked about it when they were first looking for an apartment if they should move away from Hawkins. Steve wasn't ready yet, Eddie had understood.

He lay in the middle of their bed, Eddie's pillow cuddled close, George Michael crooned in the background. Would Eddie be happier in Chicago? Was he happier there already? Would he be happier without Steve? He hugged the pillow closer.

"Careless Whisper, Stevie? You must have really missed me."

Steve's head shot up to see Eddie smiling in their bedroom doorway. He jumped up and ran to him, hugging him close.

"You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow!"

"We finished earlier than expected, and I missed you baby, the boys are enjoying a night on the town but I needed you."

Steve's chest filled with warmth, "I missed you too, Eds.

Eddie fidgeted, "Let's lay down, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Steve tried not to let the words panic him, after all Eddie had just said how much he missed him so surely this wasn't a bad talk coming. He curled into Eddie's side in the bed? "What's up?" he said resting his chin on Eddie's chest looking up at him.

Eddie trailed a hand down Steve's back soothingly, "Our lease runs out at the end of next month, and if things go well in Chicago they'd want the band to move there."

Steve nodded as Eddie continued, "And I know last year you said you couldn't but it's been three years since Vecna and everyone's still ok. The kids will be graduating soon and leaving and Robin has been looking at places to work now that her degree is almost done." Steve smiled hearing that Eddie had already incorporated Robin and the kids into this plan.

"I'm ready."

Eddie looked at him surprised, "Really?"

"I wanna dance this dance with you forever, Eds."

Eddie kissed him, "You're such a dork, but I love you so much."

"I love you too."

[edgeray]

Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔  Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth? 

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content. 

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling. 

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time. 

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched. 

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino. 

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.  

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. 

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm? 

It's warm. 

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms. 

— 

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House. 

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty. 

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone? 

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet. 

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud. 

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial. 

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so. 

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply. 

Arlecchino feels cold.