#echo’s took me over four hours at least

[lilacjunimo]

the man, the myth, the legend (mister hunter bad batch)

[cregansdingdong]

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, swearing, dirty talk, sofa sex, quickie that became a longie, making-out, dry humping, Jace is desperate and he needs to take his frustrations out somehow, theres a brief pussy slap bc it felt right, cream-pie at the end, fully clothed raw dogging; They’re betrothed and this takes place at the start of the DoD, I didn’t make any other specifications cause they were too busy fucking. This is very heavily inspired by his scene in the season finale :3

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

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He’d been pacing in his chambers for the better part of an hour with only his thoughts as company. Jacaerys felt useless, to say the least. Useless, needlessly coddled, suffocating between the walls of Dragonstone. He wanted to be of help to his Queen, to fight for the realm on dragonback against the Greens as was his destiny. His calling. Instead, he was made to spectate at council meetings and wait endlessly for a moment that would never come, it seemed. The ‘what ifs’ kept him spiraling, uncomfortable in his own mind, and he found his feet moving before he could consider a destination. He knew where to go. It was too easy not to. And she wouldn’t mind. His hesitance sent a bit of doubt down to his stomach on whether or not he really wanted to bother her, but she would’ve figured out his sour mood anyway. It was better to face up to himself than keep it locked away inside. The hastening of his footsteps echoed off the spacious corridors, and as if she had sensed he was on his way to her, the doors to her chambers were left ajar—just enough for him to see her peaceful face trained down on her book.

His knuckles gently tapped against the threshold, announcing his presence as he entered. His betrothed glances up, looking twice as she realizes who her visitor is. “Good morrow.” She hummed, legs tucked up and under her comfortably on the divan. His pretty brown eyes took in her room, a place he found himself in considerably often. Depending on the circumstances, obviously. And the hour. Everything was kept neat and tidied, but he could still see the traces of her, where she’d made a sort of home for herself. Books and tomes stacked three or four each on various surfaces, the tea she’d left nearly untouched on the nightstand. He loved it. “Good morrow.” Jace responded, gently shutting the door behind him, head tilted back against it for a moment, unable to hide the frustration that had grown in his own chambers. He said nothing. Unsurprisingly, the words caught in his throat on the way out.

She pats the spot beside her on the divan, the book not yet closed, but her attention had shifted from the pages to his furrowed brows. He obeys, crossing the room to sit by her without second thought. His mind had quieted, at least. Their shoulders brush together lightly as he finally manages to say something else. “What are you reading?” She could tell already that something was off with him, but still indulges in his question, turning it over to show him the cover. Something vaguely historic, he catches, but he was too distracted by her soft hands clutching the book to see much else. “I figured I’d better read a bit more to catch up with the talk of war. This one isn’t entirely as dull as I thought it was going to be, thankfully.” With that, she closes it shut, putting it down on the stand beside the divan, shifting her body just enough to face him. “How are you faring, Jace?”

“I’m well enough.” He muttered, leaning back slightly. It was a lie and she saw right through him without much else. “I just…my mother is worried. She’s trying to hide it behind orders but it's catching up to us now. All this.” He was gesturing to the war, of course, fingers tapping in his lap anxiously. “And I can’t help her. She won’t let me help. I don’t know what to do. I’d much rather be out there, making a real difference to tip the scales, and instead I’m stuck here at Dragonstone doing nothing but waiting.” His betrothed nodded along as she listened, digesting his admittance before considering her own words. “You’re restless, dragon.” There was a truth to it, despite the statement mostly being a gentle tease. The corners of his lips lift just a little at the nickname. “I can’t help it. I feel antsy knowing I have the capabilities to do something, and I’m not allowed to.”

“We’re still in the beginning of this war—and you’re the heir, Jace. Even if there was a battle taking place just outside of Dragonstone, you and the Queen must stay here.” He’d heard that a thousand times before from his mother and the members of her small council, and a thousand times he felt undignified—but hearing it from the lips of his bride-to-be, there was no malice or taunt or scold behind her tone. She was reminding him of a painful candor. His safety mattered. “I feel powerless.” He admits, frustration accompanying the embarrassment that came with the insecurity. “I feel like a little boy begging to add his opinion during council meetings. They respect me because I’m the Prince of Dragonstone, her son, not because I’m good at my responsibilities. What good am I in this war if I can’t help my mother get her throne back?” The last few words exited his mouth with bite, self-loathing and irritation cutting him like a double-edge sword.

“You’re wrong about that.” She reaches out to take his arm, her hand wrapping around his bicep as she intertwines their fingers with the other. “Your living and breathing is the strongest power of all. You’re strengthening your mother’s claim by doing just that. I know you want to fight, to do something that matters. But true power is not just grandiose displays of strength or victories in battle, it's also purpose. The meanings behind our choices. People are raising the Queen’s banners—and those are your banners too. They want to fight for you as much as they do for her, because the two of you are the rightful heirs to the throne. The Greens can try as they wish to Usurp what belongs to the Queen, but their actions are unjustified. King Viserys made his choice and he stuck to it until his passing. That is power.”

“All this book reading is making you wiser than me.” He grumbled, although there wasn’t any malice behind it. “I’d still rather be swinging a sword at some idiot knight instead of sitting within these walls looking pretty—but I understand that you’re right.” He concedes, a small smile gracing his handsome face. She chuckles at that. “I’m sure you’d be pretty no matter what, even muddied and bloodied on the battlefield.” She sighs though, glancing out at the daylight swarming into the room through the window, hand still nestled in his. The gentle touch sent goosebumps up his neck, tightening his trousers with every second her warmth continued to seep into his leather doublet. “The meeting is likely starting soon.” Her voice interrupts his thoughts of nipping at the supple flesh at her neck.

Jace groaned aloud, head dropping back against the divan in pure annoyance, good mood spoiled at the reminder. “I’d honestly rather get swallowed by dragonfire than sit in that room for the next three hours, listening to those old fools drabble on about who knows what.” He turns his body—not unlike a roll—to shield his face on her shoulder, unwilling to part from her. “I want to stay here with you, alone and in peace as we were.” She snorts lightly as he inhales deeply, arm snaking around her waist in want. “The Queen will be expecting us, my prince.” She looks down at his dark curls, twirling one around her finger. His breeches certainly tighten now. “...My interests are elsewhere.” He murmurs, annoyed at the thought of being pulled away, face inching closer to her neck until his lips press against her smooth skin. “Jace.” She warned, although there wasn’t as much resistance in her tone as he’d expected, and a quiet sigh flows past her lips. “We can’t be late. That’s disrespectful to the council members.”

“The denial of devouring you because of those ancient rats only serves to make me want to go even less.” He shifts in place, head still dipped by her jugular, hands bracing the back of the divan with newfound purpose, trapping her between the corner of it and his own scalding body. She gasps as his teeth sink into her skin, earning a low sound of pleasure from his throat. “We can be quick if the meeting matters to you that much.” He mutters against her, a slight tease as he nips at her harder this time, his nose nudged into her jaw. “I don’t need to wait until nightfall to make you see the stars, my Lady.” Her remaining restraint crumbles at that, hands coming to undo the lacings of his breeches. “..Fine. But you can’t touch my hair.” He seemed like he wanted to protest at the idea of limited touching, but that gleam in her eye meant she was serious, and it was likely they’d miss the meeting as a whole trying to figure out how to braid her hair that way again. “Okay. Deal.”

His mouth returns to her throat, biting and sucking greedily with reverence, his hands finding purchase at her hips to start bunching her skirts up. “Jace..” She exhales, shuddering at the way he was marking her skin—he wasn’t leaving any stones unturned, and they were going to show. Her fingers plucked at the lacings with success, tugging him closer to her now by the waistline of his breeches. His fists clench around the fabric of her gown, a deep grunt echoing from his chest as his clothed cock pressed into her plush inner thigh. “Gods—I need more.” Jace retracts himself from her neck, pulling her body down the divan, just enough to lay her flat on her back. She wraps her thighs around his hips, a strangled moan failing to come out as he kisses her, pushing himself against her core. He rolled his hips down with a fury, nothing deliberate about it—just to feel something, to get out the pent up desperation he’d felt for weeks since his return.

His tongue explores her mouth with an eagerness that made them both flush, using her skirts as purchase to buck himself harder into her cunt. “You make me this way.” He grunts against her lips. His stomach was already tightening with every bit of friction they could get. “Do you understand? You’re just so pretty and you smell divine—fuck.” Jace grits his teeth, biting at her lower lip. She was a panting mess beneath him, unable to do anything other than take it, digging her nails into his shoulders to cope with how good it felt. His weight pinned her down deliciously, hips still incessant and rubbing against her with enough force to make the divan squeak. It was like music to his ears. “I’m already close just feeling your sweet cunt, my love.” Jace pulls up her gown a bit more, almost up to her ribs, to watch the tent in his pants glide up her glistening folds like a man bewitched. “You need to see it–” He grunts, bracing himself on the armrest behind her head, lifting himself just enough to make a space between their bodies. The sight was a wicked one.

“Look at the way you take me.” He urges, voice hoarse this time, eyes meeting hers from above. “Soaked enough to wet my breeches—and I’m not even inside of you yet.” Her nails dig harder into him, a breathless whine at the disbelief of it all. “Please Jace!” She mewls, shivering, and he grins, snapping his hips against hers with reverence. “Please what, my love? Use your words.” His tone was mocking, teasing, and eager to make her squirm. The quiet shuffling of their clothes was driving her to insanity—and she wanted more than anything to pull it all off, but they had places to be very soon. “I need—Gods! I need you, Jace!” He was more than pleased by that, and he somehow carries enough restraint to stop himself from finishing right there. Jacaerys pulls himself back to tug down his breeches down just enough, his cock momentarily springing back to hit his stomach.

She melts at the sight of his tip—red and leaking shiny precum back toward his shaft. He was the perfect size for her; not too big or too small, and pretty just like the rest of him. Jace hisses quietly as the sensitivity hits him, dipping himself between her folds just to savor the moment. “Mmm look at your pretty cunt, my love. So beautiful.” He murmurs, his own thighs trembling as he slides his shaft through your slick. “Thighs up, sweet girl.” Her eyes roll back as his tip presses into her little bud, the motion agonizingly slow, and she nearly hadn't heard him. She braces her thighs to her chest as much as her bunched up gown would allow, gaze locked on Jace's angled face that was furrowed in concentration. She watches, face reddened, as he spits down onto himself, lubricating the way even though it probably wasn't needed with how soaked she was. Suddenly, his palm comes down on her clit, surprising her with equal amounts of pain and pleasure—she nearly came with a meek gasp of his name, inadvertently yanking his hair. “Jace!”

“Sorry. Couldn't help myself.” He grins, lips meeting hers in a sweet peck. “I want you to look at me when I slip it, love—look nowhere else but right here.” As he guides his tip inside, her breath hitches, captivated by the stretch of him and the glossy brown eyes staring down at her, hazed with lust. A growl erupts from his throat, feeling suffocated now by her walls, and he couldn't get enough. Jace wasn't one to swear often in front of his wife-to-be, but the obscenities flew from his mouth like she was his prayer, sinking himself slowly inch-by-inch. Not that his betrothed was in any better condition. She was clawing at him now, whining and squirming uncontrollably at the delectable sting that came with taking Jace. It hurt so good, and she was sure she'd throw a fit if he dared to pull out for whatever reason. Meeting be damned. Seated fully in her hot cunt, Jacaerys grips the back of her right thigh, pacing himself to allow her to adjust first.

They wait in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, no noise in the room other than their soft pants, and a few breathless giggles as Jace shields her eyes from the attacking sunlight. Silently, she cues him to continue. “Good girl.” He murmurs, starting slowly with gentle strokes that make her stomach warm. “Taking me so well, my love.” He hovered over her still, his other hand braced against the armrest as he watched himself disappear inside of her, a shiver rolling down his spine. “So good.” She mewls, leaking around his cock. Jace leans his head down to connect their lips again, tongue darting into her mouth like he owned her, his free hand taking a greedy handful of her breast through the gown. Moans swallowed down between kissing and breathing, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping birds and the vulgar slapping of skin as the pace quickened. She could only hope no one would come looking for them—or walk down the corridor even. She couldn't recall Jace locking the door behind him. “I'm close—” He grunts, pulling back from her lips to rock his hips with fervor. “I'm so fucking close, love.”

The divan beneath them was far more noisy now than it had been when they were grinding. Jace had half a mind to let the damned thing break, especially with how tight she squeezed around him, sucking up every inch he provided. Outside, the bells of Dragonstone rang, signaling high noon was upon them—Gods, the meeting. “We need to hurry up!” She pants, thigh hooking around him, just as eager to come. “You promised this would be quick!” Irritation bubbles up in his stomach, and Jace gathers her in his arms, fed up with the thought of having to sit through yet another council meeting. “You want me to hurry up?” He grunts, although it came out as a hiss more than anything, his left foot planting firmly on the floor beside the divan. “Fine.” She couldn't make herself regret her demand even if she tried. Jace stood up straight as a board, his sweet girl being gripped by her gown as he fucked up into her with reckless abandon. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to breathe when her release came, senses flooding with pleasure like she'd been numb her entire life. His cock was hitting that spot like a bullseye, not stopping even after she started yanking on his hair from the overstimulation.

“Do you like it when I hurry, love?” He rasped breathlessly by her ear, one arm around her middle now while his right hand cradled the back of her neck. “You certainly like when I take out all my frustrations on your pretty cunt—Gods, I'm coming. I'm fucking coming sweet girl.” Jace chokes, exhaling sharply through his nose as his hips began to stutter, losing his brutal pace. “Can I come inside of you? Please?!” The beg falling from his plush lips sent a thrill down her spine, and she moaned out her agreement even after he asked twice for confirmation. That's all it takes for Jace to press her into the divan again, fucking her hard, fast, and sloppy, his body laying over hers in the desperation of chasing his release. He buries himself against her chest, coming deep within her as a long, drawn out groan escapes him. The relief was instantaneous; anxiety gone, frustration fucked out of him, and only bliss was left behind. Balls deep, he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. Silence. Rapid breaths. Stilled hips, other than an occasional twitch as they reeled from their orgasms. He lifts his face from her chest weakly, a lazy, sated smile gracing his handsome features. “Sweet girl..” He starts. Her eyes flick up to look at him, equally as spent and satisfied. “Mmhm?”

“I think we're late for the council meeting.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Birds Of A Feather

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 5,320 Summary: Your four hour flight home to Philadelphia turns into a 24 hour trip where you're marooned in the St. Louis airport thanks to a snowstorm. You and Joel Miller, the handsome man you just met on your flight, keep each other company. Warnings: fluff, like the amount of fluff inside of a 7 foot tall stuffed bear fluff, snow storm, pov switching, cinnamon rolls and apple juice, flight anxiety, comfort, kinda soulmate vibes, good dad joel, proud dad joel, sarah's in college, reader is an interior designer from philadelphia, the whole one bed in the hotel room trope as well, nothing bad happens to joel miller in this house, lying for a ticket.

A/N: This was written for @burntheedges' Roll A Trope Challenge. I received snowed in and thanks to the always lovely @maggiemayhemnj she helped me with suggesting snowed in at an airport. This is very very soft and cute, I hope you enjoy! ❄️💕

Masterlist

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Early morning flights are your favorite. The TSA line is usually short, coffee from the kiosk is fresh, the magazines in the newsstand are in order, and the airport is quiet in an early morning hush versus the roar of the afternoon crowds. You stop at the newsstand to pick up a magazine and a cinnamon roll before heading to your gate. You stuff your customary travel treats in your backpack looking forward to enjoying your newest Architectural Digest and sugar rush once you’re in the air.

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A deep throat clear grabs your attention while you watch the tarmac crew prepare the plane. A broad man stands before you in the aisle, clad in a flannel and faded gray shirt taking up most of the tight space. Instant panic bubbles inside when you realize this gorgeous man is who you have to share a tiny cubicle with for the next four hours. 

“Hey, uh,” he stammers, a hand brushes the back of his neck in a nervous stance, “s’alright if I take the window? It’s… helpful to me.”

His voice is deep and husky with one of those famous Texas drawls, of course his voice is just as attractive as him.

“Not at all, I can take the aisle,” you say, awkwardly bending over to grab your bag. 

The handsome stranger attempts to back up as much as he can yet your body still brushes against his, he tenses before moving into the row and sits down with a big huff; if you thought he took up a lot of room in the aisle, the room he takes up in the cramped business class seat is something else.

He adjusts his shoulders to try to give you more space and fails miserably. He lets out a grumbly sigh while attempting to find a more comfortable position. His arm bumps into yours before you angle your body towards the aisle, trying to give the large stranger more room. At least he smells just as good as he looks… mint, coffee and burnt wood. There’s way worse looking people to be packed in like sardines with. 

The flight attendants walk the aisle and do their pre boarding steps, checking seat belts and doors before going into their safety spiel. Your seat neighbor shuffles nervously, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He’s a nervous flier, you can spot them a mile away. 

“Why are you headed to Pennsylvania?” you ask, turning towards him trying to cut through his nervous tension. 

“Oh, uh, to visit my daughter, she’s a freshman at UPenn. Wanted to spend the holidays with her,” he cracks a smile at the mention of his daughter. God, he’s handsome.

“That’s nice, it’s beautiful in Philly for the holidays. I’m from there, so if you need any tips on where to go and what to do, I can help.”

“Thanks,” his fingers still tap against his lap. “Guess you’re going back home then?” 

“Yep, I just finished a job and I haven’t been home in a month, just hoping to beat the snow.” 

“Here’s hoping… I’m Joel by the way,” he reaches his large hand out to shake yours. You grab his calloused and overworked hand then give him your name, he nods softly and repeats it. His deep voice echoes through your head, sending a shiver up your spine. 

“It’s nice to meet you Joel, even if it’s in this cramped airplane cabin.” 

“S’nice to meet you too,” he lets go of your hand, placing it back on his thigh, you notice that it’s no longer nervously tapping. 

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

Joel lets out a big, deep sigh. 

“Nervous flier?” you ask.

“You could say that,” he grumbles. “Never liked giving up control of my life to someone I don’t know.”

“I understand that, but this happens to millions of people a day, you only hear about the bad.”

“I get that,” he chuckles, quickly stopping as the plane begins to roll on the tarmac. “Still don’t have to like it.” 

“Well, I fly all the time,” you reassure, “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.” 

“Here’s hoping,” he sighs, sinking deeper into the seat. 

You are the opposite of your seatmate, you love how the engines rumble as the plane picks up speed, the way your stomach drops when it lifts off the tarmac, the brief thud underneath when the wheels are tucked into the plane. Flying has never bothered you, it’s always been exciting and a means of getting to new adventures. 

The plane speeds across the pavement preparing for liftoff, your stomach drops before the wheels leave the ground... Joel’s hand grasps yours. Golden, thick fingers cover your hand squeezing tightly. You turn to him and your heart breaks a little at the sight, his eyes are squeezed shut with his nostrils flaring as he puffs deep breaths out. There’s something so heartbreaking watching this large, strong man look so scared. 

“Hey, you’re alright, it’s quick, very soon we’re going to be in the air and all we have to do is wait,” you try to sound as gentle and comforting as possible. It’s easy to take fearlessness for granted, especially when someone as large and seemingly intimidating as Joel looks so helpless. 

He nods, his eyes still tightly closed before swallowing a thick gulp of air.

Your free hand reaches up and opens his air vent before angling yours toward him. 

“Can you look at me Joel,” you whisper. His hand still clasps yours tightly. It hurts like hell, but you don’t mind; if it makes him feel better, he can clasp as hard as he needs. 

His brown eyes open wide and focus on you. 

“That’s good, Joel, can you take a deep breath for me? Iiiiiin and ooooout. Very good,” you encourage with a grin on your face holding his eye contact. “This is worth it, you’ll get to see your daughter, tell me her name and what she’s like.”

“H-her name’s Sarah, she’s uh, studying to be a doctor, sh-she’s way smarter than her old man, sh-she plays on the soccer team, got a scholarship for it ‘n everything, she loves music and going to too many damn concerts. She’s going to go deaf like me if she ain’t careful.”

“She sounds awesome,” you smile.

“She is, don���t know how I got so lucky.” 

“What do you do for work?” you keep him talking, making sure to distract Joel’s anxiety. 

“Contractor, I own a contracting service with my brother, we specialize in retail and office buildings.”

“Oh, that sounds like hard work, but it’s nice you get to work with your brother.”

“Could be better, could be worse,” he shrugs. 

“Hey, I’m an interior designer, we’re both in similar fields. How many carpenter pencils do you have? I probably have three floating around in my purse right now.”

He chuckles, his face loses its tenseness, Joel doesn’t attempt to take his hand from yours, and you don’t move to do it either. You work with contractors all the time, you’ve never seen one as gorgeous as him.

“My daughter always tried to get me to let her use ‘em for school work because they were a different shape, kept on having to take them away from her.” 

“She sounds tenacious.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muses.

Good afternoon passengers. This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Flight 86A. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. We’re going to try to avoid the snow the best we can, we’ll keep you updated in case anything changes.

You’ve been entertaining Joel so much both of you didn’t notice you totally missed lift off and your ascent into the sky. 

“Would you look at that? We’re in the air, you only have four hours until you get to see her.”

“Thanks for that,” he says, moving his hand from yours. “I feel ridiculous.”

“No need, I’m happy I could help,” you shake the tenseness out of your hand after the twenty minutes of being in Joel’s vice grip.

“You alright? Did I hurt you?” his eyes round in guilt under his furrowed eyebrows focus on your hand. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure. “You just have a strong grip. Must be all of that contractor business.”

He sends you a shy, crooked grin, “M’sorry.”

“I’ll survive, just like we’ll survive this flight together, Joel,” you wink.

He looks at you, his brown eyes turn darker and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “You’re quite someth–”

“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant interrupts. Worst fucking time.

You order an apple juice. Joel orders a black coffee. 

“Apple juice?” he asks. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a tradition I have. I always get a cinnamon roll and apple juice every time I fly in the morning. Tastes kinda like apple pie when they’re together.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” he scrunches his nose and shakes his head. 

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” you shrug before pulling the cinnamon roll out of your bag.

You ask for an extra cup when the attendant brings yours and Joel’s drinks before ripping off half of the cinnamon roll and handing it to him. “Here.”

“No, no, it’s yours.” 

“Yeah, but I want to share,” you urge, “I got you a cup for apple juice too.” 

“If you insist,” he obliges, taking the soft pastry.

Half of your juice is poured into the extra cup before you hand it to him and raise your cup up to cheers. 

“To four hour flights and apple pie” you quip. 

“Cheers,” he says, gently shaking his head with eyes lit resembling something akin to affection.

You both take a drink of the sweet juice before picking up the cinnamon roll and taking a bite. 

“See?” you say, still chewing the sweet pastry. 

“Mmf,” he shakes his head and swallows. “Not apple pie, but pretty damn good.” He wipes the errant crumbs off of his mustache, you wonder if his lips taste like cinnamon and apples. 

“I’ll take pretty damn good,” you muse, picking up your magazine and settling into your seat. 

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Joel glances towards you every chance he gets. He’s a realist, sometimes too much of one, he knows why he’s so calm during this flight– your comforting presence. He’s hated flying his whole life, his father never understood his fear, always telling him ‘I flew on planes bigger and louder than this all through the war, kid, buck up.’ Thanks dad, that’ll surely help the terrified eight year old crying and clutching to his mother. Sarah damn near broke his heart when she met him at the door excitedly waving the acceptance letter to a school 1,700 miles away. How could he crush his little girl’s dreams because her old man hates being in the sky? He got to bide his time, driving her in the moving truck to her new school, but now– with her first Christmas out of state and unable to fly home due to work– Joel was forced to step on the scary metal tube. 

He could hardly believe his luck when the pretty girl gazing out the window ended up being his seatmate; the excitement over being so close to you helped shield a bit of his trepidation over his first solo flight and then he went on to embarrass himself. You didn’t shake your head or shun him, you accepted and supported him. He can still feel your soft hand wrapped in his and hear your gentle voice coaching him down from a panic attack. You’re a complete stranger, and yet you’ve shown him more kindness than he’s allowed himself to accept in years. 

You adjust in your seat, your elbow brushes against his, little do you know he bunched up the sleeve of his flannel so he could feel the touch of your skin. 

He doesn’t know why you affect him the way that you do, it’s only been a couple of hours in the sky next to you, but he’s already trying to think of a way to give you his phone number. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, Captain Scott has informed us that we will be diverting to St. Louis due to the weather conditions at Philadelphia. We will be landing in approximately twenty minutes and will keep you advised about the continuation of this flight to our destination as information becomes available. We apologize for the inconvenience this may have caused. Thank you for your patience and understanding. We are aware that many of you have connecting flights departing Philadelphia. Our ground staff will work with you to confirm you on the next available flight to your destination. Thank you for your patience.

“Well, shit,” you sigh, placing your magazine down, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. “Had a feeling this might happen.”

“Shit indeed,” he sighs.

“How are you with landings, Joel?” you softly question. “Can I do anything for you?”

His heart skips, he hasn’t felt this feeling in years. Sure his little girl steals his heart every second of the day, but for a woman to make his heart race the way it is now making butterflies flutter through his stomach… that hasn’t happened in two decades. 

“No, I should be okay, thank you,” he says, feeling a bit foolish. 

“I’m here for you, okay?” The gentleness of your voice void of any judgment helps soothe his shame.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into St. Louis. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, please be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.

His breathing turns rapid, he feels the phantom of fear rearing its ugly head 10,000 feet above the ground. He’s seen far too many videos of planes spurting flames and panicked passengers escaping down blown up slides. He remembers Captain Sulley and the miracle on the Hudson… that ain’t no miracle. Joel Miller is a realist, how about everyone almost died in the Hudson? He tries to breathe like that weird lady on TikTok Sarah showed him… make a square with every breath? Or make a line and then breathe? Christ, he can’t remember. His lips part to inhale more stale pressurized oxygen trying to calm his pulsating heart. This time your hand grabs his, he looks over at your face set soft with a reassuring smile, a wash of calm runs through him. You’re so beautiful.

“You’re alright Joel, I’m here with you,” you gently lilt.

He focuses on the soft back and forth of your fingers against him, centering himself and making the phantom back away. He loves the way your soft skin looks against his. Your nails are painted a light blue, it reminds him of the bright Texas morning sky. 

The plane descends as you hold his eye contact with that same beautiful and assuring smile lighting up your face. 

“We’re almost on the ground, you’re doing so good,” fear and veneration perform a duet in his heart making it pound against his chest. 

The wheels hit the tarmac, he lets out a huge breath of relief. Your hand still holds his, even as he visibly relaxes. He watches the light blue of your nail polish swipe back and forth against the top of his hand. 

Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to St. Louis. The local time is 9:45 AM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight. We thank you for your patience, rest assured our staff is here to help you.

“Well, I know it’s not home, or Sarah… but we’ll make the best of it,” you say, pulling your bag out from underneath the seat. He loves how positive you are, he needs someone like you in his life.

❄️❄️❄️

Three hours of being stuck in the airport have slowly ticked by, at least you have the company of your new travel partner. You check your weather app for the millionth time, no change at all… snow still falls all along the tri-state area.

“Anything?” he asks, looking up from his Sports Illustrated. 

“No luck,” you shrug, “I’m starving.” 

“Come on,” he points his head towards the restaurant near the gate, “my treat.”

You follow him, wondering why you feel so excited over this impromptu lunch date. You can’t deny your attraction to him, an inkling inside of you makes you believe Joel might feel the same. Yeah, you might be stuck in St. Louis, your return to your comfortable bed and bathtub postponed due to the falling snow, but at least you have your handsome flight partner with you. 

The restaurant is nice, a typical Concourse B type place full of simple people enjoying a hot meal, simple menu, a simple design inspired by of all things– airplanes. 

Joel asks for a table near the window, the hostess obliges, leading you to a table in a quiet section of the restaurant. He pulls the chair out for you, southern manners and all. 

He takes a seat with a humph, mumbling how tight his back is from all of the damn sitting. You order a hot tea, he orders a coffee. 

You’ve known him for a grand six hours and yet you’re going to remember this usually milquetoast adventure for a long, long time. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, perusing the menu. 

“Turkey sandwich and soup,” you answer, mouth already watering at the idea of your meal. “You?”

“Burger ‘n fries. I’m hungry though that half of a cinnamon roll sure did satisfy,” he sends you a barely perceptible wink. 

“So, do you have any plans for you and your daughter?”

“She says she has an idea or two for us, she’s a planner, I’m just there to see her, this is the longest I’ve been away from her.” His voice drops, a slight hitch in his breath appears, you can feel the sadness radiating off of him. He must be such a good dad.

“Sounds rough,” you empathize, wishing you could recreate what happened on the plane and put your hand over his while telling him everything will be okay.

“Yeah, it’s been difficult, it’s just been me and her since forever. I know she’s happy and fulfilled, that's all I can ask for.” 

You wonder where Sarah’s mom went, why it’s just the two of them, and most of all if he’s single. How can you be falling for this almost stranger and his big heart that sits below his broad, flannel covered chest?

“I moved far away for art school and it was the best decision I ever made. I'm so thankful for my parents letting me have that experience. You should be proud of her… and most of all you should be proud of you.”

He looks over the brim of his coffee mug, takes a drink, and places it down on the table before grabbing your hand.

“You’re so– I’ve never met anybody like you before,” he says, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. 

The restaurant and airport disappear from your periphery, it’s only you and this man from Austin on the way to your hometown to see his daughter. This has never happened to you before… a spark of something you have no clue what to call shared between the two of you. 

“I could say the same thing to y–,” you're interrupted by the waitress’s arrival, Joel’s hand retreats from yours; the physical and emotional connection between you and Joel is broken by your food being placed on the table. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joel asks as he grabs the Tabasco bottle and shakes a smattering of drops over his burger. 

“No clue,” you sigh, “I wish I could take a nap. What did your daughter say when you told her?”

“Oh, she was fine, disappointed but she told me she’ll still get over a week with me once I get there,” he shakes his head, his face lifts with a doting grin. “She’s always the glass half full type.”

“And let me guess, you’re much more of a ‘the damn glass is half empty’ type?” 

“Always.” 

“Mm,” you nod, before taking a bite of your turkey sandwich. 

❄️❄️❄️

His heart beats harder against his chest as he watches you approach him from the ticket counter. 

“Any new update?” he’s nervous, he hasn’t felt this nervous in years. He never realized how much he missed this type of emotional tension that pulls his back to stand straighter. 

“The storm hasn’t let up, all airports in the area are on a ground stop, and now with the storm here, I think we’re screwed,” you close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You look exhausted, spending all day in a packed airport has obviously taken its toll on you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, carry you to whatever destination you need to go to and never let go. He can’t believe he’s thinking like this, he doesn’t even know your favorite color or movie. “I’m sorry Joel.” 

He hates watching your face drop, you’ve done nothing wrong. “Hey, none of that,” he takes a tentative step forward, he’s worried to overcross a line, but your sunken shoulders and defeated posture pushes him forward. He wraps his flannel clad arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Your body instantly molds to his, finding the perfect spot on his chest to rest your head against. A sweet and grateful sigh breathes out of you, radiating through his whole body. 

“Looked like you needed this,” he says against your hair, breathing the feminine scent of you in. He hasn’t been this close to a woman like this in years. Sure he’s had some hookups here and there, but a real honest to goodness connection with someone after only half of a day spent together? Never happened. He feels lucky.

“I did, thank you,” you breathe out. He still holds you, making zero attempt to let go. You imagine to the average passerby you resemble a couple in love, standing in the airport terminal, holding each other. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, still holding you tight. “I think there’s a pretty good restaurant here.”

“I am, a real nice guy once took me to lunch there,” you pull away. “It’s my treat this time.”

❄️❄️❄️

Joel stands at the ticket desk, it’s now his turn to see if there have been any changes. It’s been twelve hours of being marooned in this airport, you should feel more miserable at this point, but the constant support the two of you trade back and forth to each other has helped alleviate the ugliness of stress. 

“Any luck?” you ask, perking up when he stands in front of you.

“Actually, yeah, they have a 9 AM flight to Philly tomorrow afternoon,” he says, tucking his ticket into his pocket. You can’t look him in the eyes, if you do you’re going to think about how much you’re going to miss him… this man you’ve only known for a grand total of twelve hours. “There’s two seats left… and I got one. The lady at the desk is waiting for my fiancee to go get her ticket.”

Your eyes widen at what he implies.

“Oh, ohhhhhh,” you grin. “Clever man.”

“Yeah, I need your help, since I’m a nervous flier and all…”

Your knees feel weak from the doting smile Joel gives you. “Thanks love,” you stretch and kiss his cheek before heading to the ticket counter.

❄️❄️❄️

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk over to the counter. He can still feel your lips against his cheek, there’s a foreign feeling in his heart. He’s already thinking about introducing you to Sarah, what the hell is this? 

The airport worker laughs at something you say, of course they’re charmed by you, you’re such a sweet thing, like cinnamon rolls and apple juice. 

You turn, a big smile lights your face when you walk back to him, waving your ticket in the air. 

He chuckles out a nervous snicker when you skip over and wrap your arms around him.

“The agent pulled in a favor and got us a room at the hotel attached here, she said she has a softness for ‘lovebirds’ like us,” you pull away with a mischievous glint lighting your face. “Plus, she thinks my fiance is handsome.”

“Uh… okay,” he’s not sure what you’re implying, you’re far too special to him already for a one-night romp in a hotel room. 

“No funny business Joel,” you wink as you grab your bag. He can’t believe how well you read him. “Now, let’s go get our luggage and check in.” 

❄️❄️❄️

You enter the keycard into the door thanking that lovely ticket agent for access to a comfortable bed. And it’s just as you feared… a bed…  just one, singular bed that greets you in this average airport hotel room. 

“I can take the chair,” Joel nervously says.

Part of you wishes he wouldn’t have offered.

“If you want, but the bed is big enough for both of us,” you shrug out of your jacket. 

“S’okay, wouldn’t feel right.”

It’d feel just fine to you, but you don’t say anything, instead you open your luggage and fish out your toiletry bag and your pajamas. 

“It’s almost midnight, I’m going to get my shower and get ready for bed.”

❄️❄️❄️

His foot nervously taps against the carpet, goosebumps prickle along his arms when he hears your sigh reverberate against the shower tiles. Why is he so anxious? It feels like prom night all over again; he’s just a shy boy waiting for the beautiful girl to give him a sign, any sign, that she likes him. The last time he felt like this Sarah was born nine months later.

He grabs the TV remote trying to find a reprieve from his anxious thoughts, flipping it to the news. The anchor drones on about the great holiday snowstorm. In a way, he’s thankful for the blizzard– sure it means even more time in a flying panic tube, but at least he met you. He vows to not let any type of temptation get in the way of what feelings are developing between you two. No matter how much he thinks about your naked body in the shower and how good your body wash smells. 

❄️❄️❄️

You emerge from the bathroom, clean and fresh in your pajamas. 

“Should’ve figured you’d be an Eagles fan,” he says, smirking at your oversized and faded sleep shirt.

“Let me guess, Cowboys fan?”

“Forever and always.”

“Oh, well, you’re my enemy now.”

He laughs, “I’m sure I am.” 

You tuck yourself under the covers while Joel takes his shower, quickly falling asleep to the sounds of whatever generic late night host is cracking jokes on the TV. 

❄️❄️❄️

He quietly opens the bathroom door, the hotel room is bathed in the dim glow of the television. You're already fast asleep, cuddled under the white duvet, you look like an angel surrounded by clouds. Of course you're beautiful when you sleep. He tries not to stare too long, and yet he's planted in the threshold of the bedroom admiring you. He feels lucky at this moment, being able to watch someone as pretty as you slumber peacefully, while trying to silence the fact that tomorrow you both will go your separate ways. He doesn't want to say goodbye.

❄️❄️❄️

A bassy groan and shuffle in the dark floats through the air waking you. The clock reads 1:45 AM. “There’s enough room in the bed for you, you know?”

“I know, just don’t want to overst– I’m still a stranger.”

“No, you’re my fiance, remember?” you shuffle the sheets on the other side of the bed down, “Joel, please, I insist.”

He sighs when he stands and makes his way to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, you can feel heated tension radiating off his body, the strong specimen of all man lays insecurely next to you. 

“Joel, relax,” you whisper before placing your hand on his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart. 

“I’m okay, I-I just– haven’t done something like this in so long.”

“What? Laid in bed next to someone you’ve known less than a day? I’ve actually never done this.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “No, just haven’t met someone as real as you in a long time. Is it real?”

“It’s real,” you say, shuffling closer to him, replacing your hand with your head. He wraps his arm around you as you listen to the pitter patter of his heart. “Goodnight Joel,” you whisper, closing your exhausted eyes. 

“G’night,” he purrs, you feel the ghost of his lips against your hair as you drift to sleep. 

❄️❄️❄️

He lays awake most of the night, too afraid to fall asleep and disturb your beautiful sleeping form. He wishes he could record the cute sounds that emit from you as you slumber and dream, he’d listen to them forever if he could. He can’t believe he’s thinking this way, what should’ve been a terrifying and lonely standard trip to see his daughter has turned into an adventure of a lifetime with a woman he’s already crazy for. 

Sure, he’s shared a bed with others since Sarah’s mom, he’s had a couple of flings here and there, but he never allowed himself to cuddle or care for them. They were never good enough for him… or most importantly Sarah. He thinks Sarah would adore you. 

The red digits on the alarm clock read 3:00 AM, he’s known you for a grand total of twenty hours. Meaning he only has about eight hours left, he’s already dreading saying goodbye. 

❄️❄️❄️

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your groggy eyes open, you move to silence the alarm but you quickly realize you’re trapped under a heavy weight. Joel. He groans against you, with his arms held tight around your stomach and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. 

“Joel, it’s time to get up.”

He tenses against you and quickly unwraps your body from his hold.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly says, reaching across you to turn the alarm off. 

“It’s okay,” you want to tell him you didn’t mind it all, that you haven’t slept that well in years, but you stay quiet. 

“I’m just going to… get ready,” he stands, stretching and wiping his tired eyes. You try not to focus on the glimpse of his stomach remembering what it felt to have the soft swell of him against your back. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

The bathroom door shuts as you flop back into bed, welcoming the fluttery feeling inside your body. “I feel the same way,” you confess to the empty hotel room. 

❄️❄️❄️

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

“Well, we’re back to where we started, it’s been quite an adventure,” you smile.

“It has,” he clears his throat, reaches for your hand and sends you a soft smile. “I have ten days in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you have any good suggestions for a nice, romantic place to take someone I really like to?” 

[belovedcloud]

Drunk In Love

pairing: best friend! leon kennedy x fem! reader

✎ Synopsis: You go out to have a few drinks with friends, after being ditched you only have one person you trust to take you home. Leon comes to pick you up but it seems there's some underlying love issues in your friendship.

✎ Notes: Wanted to make a fluff fic for Leon. I love the best friend dynamic for him. Sorry for being gone for so long, I literally had no motivation to write. This literally took me like 21 days. Thank you for all the love :)

➤ WC: 2.7K

➤ CW: You're the one drunk, Leon being a sweetheart. No kisses, just hugs and pure fluff.

The constant banging in your ears was prominent as you drank away. To say the place was crowded was an understatement, shifting your body to contort your way through the chaos was difficult in itself. Even more so when you're wasted. Tipsy couldn't be described to you as your body stumbled forwards, clinging onto your friend as she took you to take a seat on one of couches. It really wasn't the comfiest but who were you to complain? The cracks of the well worn couch that could be felt as you shifted onto the cushioned seat made you whine slightly. A bar could at least refurnish their place every one in a while right?

"How much of a lightweight are you?" She took out a bottle of water from her purse, ushering you to drink some. A low groan was all you could respond back with, your dry lips slowly wrapping around the rim of the bottle as you stomached down some water. The cold liquid sliding down your throat, refreshing you in some way as your half lidded eyes slowly opened fully. Truly showing you the havoc that paraded in the four walls you were confined in.

In one corner, you saw random people making out - not really your thing. The middle of the room was overloaded with patrons drinking and dancing, the alcohol splashing out of their cups onto the cold tile floor. Nevertheless, it was nice seeing so many people bonding together. Even if it did mean that they were all subjected to one thing in common - being under the influence.

Warmth spread all around you, it was gross. You felt utterly sick as you tried to stand up. Your hope to walk was soon shut down as you stumbled back onto the couch, your friend holding you up. "What's up?" She mumbled as she looked at you, seeing that expression on your face told her everything she needed to know. You were about to vomit. She paced you over to the bathroom. Slumping your upper body over the toilet, your body took over. Your throat burned as you felt yourself throw up uncontrollably. God, it was absolutely disgusting seeing how your puke piled up. Slowly but surely, you were able to hover back up, flushing down the remains of what you ate and drank only a couple hours ago. Meanwhile, your friend was nowhere to be seen. Had she gone on and left you to be in the bathroom all by yourself? Your feet stumbled over one another as you peered out the cubicle, nope, she wasn't there. Even after 10 minutes of dizzily searching you still couldn't find her. That in itself was a problem but what the hell could you do? You were pissed out of your mind, let alone could you even walk so your next best option after being ditched was to ring your best friend. Leon.

The ringtone of your phone echoed throughout your head as you tried your best to hold it up to your ear. Checking the time on the neon light on the wall, it was way past midnight. 2:12 AM. Would Leon even answer at this time? Yes. Yes he would. A groggy voice hummed in your ears as Leon spoke "Hello?" Not only did you feel bad for waking him up, you were going to ask him for a favor but he was the only hope you had left. "Heeey, Leon I.. hiccup I need help." Was all you could slur out before a giggle erupted from your lips. Leon knew that tone of voice all too well, you were drunk. But not only drunk, you seemed completely out of your mind. He got up at an alarming rate, quickly dressing himself up before putting the phone on speaker. "Where are you?" He commented as his hand gripped on his phone tight, sliding on his trainers. The deafening music ringed out of the speaker before you conveyed to him where you were. "Velvet Verve.. hiccup you know the one d-downtown?" You mumbled out, feeling at your worst as the alcohol that was left in your system started to give you a migraine. Leon was already out of his apartment hearing you speak back. His fast footsteps could be heard over the phone as he threw himself in his car, slamming the door next to him. Revving up the engine all you heard was..

"Stay there."

You did exactly what he asked, you obeyed his command as your eyes flickered every minute on the time. 2:15... 2:16 etc. 10 minutes later, you see a familiar figure looking out for you. It wasn't long for him to find you slumped on the couch, a small smile on your face as he came over to you. "Where are your friends?" He presumed you went out with them, why would you go to a bar all by yourself? You responded with a shrug, clarifying to Leon that they had ditched you along the way. "Dunno.. They left I guess?" You murmured, thinking about it honestly made you feel a bit hurt. They might be your friends - absolutely no friend goes dumping their drunk friend in a bar though. A clear expression was smothered on Leon's face, he was disappointed that they would leave you behind when you obviously aren't in the best position. Leon approached you, his gaze followed your stammered movements - how much did you actually drink? Swiftly, he put his muscular arm around your waist, holding you up mumbling to you that you were gonna come back to his place. There was no place for you to argue back so a simple shrug left your body.

His grip was firm as he guided you out of the bar, you on the other hand were gripping onto him for dear life as your legs crossed over each other after you stumbled on your feet. A small smirk tugged Leon's lips as he saw your body try and keep up with his. Slowing down his pace, he took his time taking you to his car. "It's not long now," he whispered in your ear. A deep shiver pulsated throughout your body as his breath tickled your ear, a meek nod leaving you as your mouth laid speechless.

Adjusting yourself in the cushioned car seat, Leon's arms wrapped around your body as he pulled the seatbelt over you. The sharp 'click' symbolizing you were safe in the seat allowed Leon to shut the door - slowly walking around the front of the car, reaching the drivers seat and strapping himself in. "You okay?" The soft tone laced in Leon's voice made your eyes travel to his face, a warmth pooling in your heart as you took in his features. He was a beautiful man, his blue eyes staring into yours until your eyes perused on the moles that were splattered on his face. Handsome. He was the epitome of handsome. "Yeah..." Was all you could splutter out, hearing the ignition start up. You were practically gawking at him as he drove smoothly back to his apartment.

His eyes would flicker at you often, making sure you weren't about to puke all over yourself. God. If only he could tell you how pretty you were. It was all too much for him as his love for you built up for you over the years. Nevertheless, you both were friends. Strictly friends. Leon couldn't just blurt out how much he loved you... What if it ruined everything between the both of you? Years of friendship and comfort all down the drain because of him longing for you. Get a grip, Kennedy.

Soon enough, the tires slowed down as he parked in the parking lot. The engine giving a huff, clarifying the end of the short yet soothing journey you both voyaged on. Leon's head turned to face your direction, the sleepy expression plastered on your face told him everything he needed to know. He unbuckled his seatbelt, swiftly getting out the car and jogged over to your side. Your head slowly lolled up and down as you tried to stay awake. Being under the influence was really tiring once you knew you were safe. Leon made you feel safe. He had shown you how a man should care for you, a gentleman at it's finest. Leon's fingers gripped underneath the handle of the door, pulling it out to unravel you in front of him. Bending over you slightly he unplugged the seatbelt holding you. He felt your gaze on him, the hairs on the back of his next rose quick as he lifted himself off you. "You ready?" He asked before interlacing his fingers between yours to pull you out the car. Stumbling out, he caught you before you could fall - his eyes peering all over your form. You were about to black out. Without wasting time, Leon got you to start walking at a normal pace. His arm wrapped around your back as his hand grasped your waist, your movements still not steady nonetheless followed his. Your half lidded eyes barely making out what was in front of you, you were sandwiched between Leon trying to get his keys out his pocket and the door that was stopping you both from getting in.

Fishing out the metal of his pocket, he unlocked the door and guided you to his bedroom. The soft sheets enticed you immediately, the hefty amount of alcohol screaming at you to flop onto the bed. You did just that. A light chuckle escaped Leon's lips as he saw you messily climb up his bed, seeking out the plump pillow that laid at the top. His light footsteps slowly followed as he sat on the edge of his bed, watching your form contort into something that didn't really look that comfy.

"Are you comfy?" He questioned with a puzzled look on his face, seeing your body still shift around. A murmur left your mouth, half of your face mushed against the pillow. He slowly got to work removing the shoes you wore out and pulled his blanket over you. His gaze never once leaving your splayed out body in front of him. Oh, you were so pretty. A beautiful woman was all he saw. Drunk or not - he felt his heart warm up whenever he saw you. You were comfortable, really comfortable with how his bed hugged you. How did Leon have a better bed than you? As soon as you thought you were about to fall asleep, the bed got suddenly lighter. Uncontrollably, your head shot up and your eyes peered at Leon as you saw him nearly leave.

"Where are you going?" The crispiness of your voice allured Leon to look back. His eyes widened, Leon believed you fell asleep. "You're awake?" He approached the bed once again, sitting on the edge of it just like before. "Y-You didn't hiccup answer my question," your tone wavered from stern to soft as your eyes gazed into his. Leon felt himself get warm - that same feeling he gets when he sees you. "I- Uh.. I was going to sleep on the couch?" He explained as his fingers played with the blanket that covered you. A frown clearly spread across your face as you heard him say that. What? Sleep on the couch? No way were you going to allow that. "What? No..." You shuffled your body slightly to make space. Leon didn't understand what you were getting at until your hand softly patted the mattress. It clicked in his head.

"Hold on. You want me next to you?" He had to clarify for his own mental state. This was terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. How could he cope knowing you were next to him as he would try to sleep. He tried to argue saying he was fine on the couch but you wouldn't have it. Soon enough, he succumbed to your argument - resting his body as he shifted on the bed. "This okay? I'm not too close am I?" He whispered, keeping his voice quiet as heard your mellow breathing. "You're fine... Don't worry." A mutter elicited out your throat as you began to stare at him. Again. It just felt you couldn't get enough of him. This wasn't unnoticed by Leon as he averted his eyes from you. How the fuck were you able to get him so flustered? He had enough, Leon spoke up.

"You keep looking at me." He once again whispered, yet his tone was... scarily awkward. Your head tilted to one side as your brain tried to figure out a response to what he said. "You're handsome." Great. You just blurted out the obvious.

However, Leon did not expect that to come out of your mouth. Handsome? You thought he was handsome? No way. "You're drunk," Leon sighed out, looking at you but you frowned once again. "Yeah, but I still mean what I said." You groaned out, frustrated he wasn't taking the compliment. Leon's heart felt as if it was going to explode. He couldn't understand where this was coming from. Why was he so attracted to you? "I-I, c'mon get to sleep." He sputtered out, his hand stroking your arm. The blossoming touch made you feel tingly, subconsciously your body seemed to seek out for more of his touch. Both of your bodies pressed up against each other, you were happy and Leon was a blushing mess. His eyes peered down to your form beneath him only for your eyes to meet his. His breath hitched, seeing your eyes hazily bore into his own. "What?" He softly said contrasting the choke that left his mouth as he felt your arms hug his body. "Leon?" You mumbled out, seeing his adam's apple swallow hardly. He couldn't respond, he would do something stupid and he knew it. Leon's lips pursed together as he stared at you. "I like you." The confession broke Leon altogether. The once pursed lips broke as he looked at you shocked.

"Don't play with me right now, just go to sleep." His hand travelled to stroke your head, aiding him to calm his beating heart but also making you go sleepy. Did you say something wrong? "Do you not like me?" Your soft spoken voice echoed in his ears. Of course he liked you, he loved you for Christ sake. A sense of fear travelled throughout both of you. With you - you believed he didn't like you back. With him - he believed you spitting out nonsense because you were drunk. "I do. I love you." Leon stumbled his words out of his mouth, not thinking twice as he realized what he said. A toasty feeling flown within you. A smile spread across your face and Leon reciprocated it back. "But, you're drunk. And I don't want to ruin this thing we have already. You're precious to me and-" His words died off as he felt a playful smack hit his back. "Ow!" He yelped, his body jumping simultaneously.

"Shut up," you grumbled out, looking at him with a pout. A playful grin played on Leon's lips as he looked at you. Listening to you immediately he closed his mouth and admired your face. "Can I have a kiss?" The question hung above you both. Oh he wanted to kiss you so bad - however taking advantage of you was not something he wanted to do. Especially when he valued you so much. "No, I can't kiss you now." He gently caressed your cheek, his finger pads slightly pulling on your skin. You understood why he couldn't - instead of getting angry, you nodded as your eyes started to close. "Tomorrow though, yeah I can kiss you." Leon added onto his sentence. It brought a smile on your faces.

"Can we stay like this then?" The mellowness of your voice demonstrated how you felt. His gaze on you softened, of course you could stay like this. He wanted you in his arms forever - to protect you until he no longer could.

"Of course."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :)

-> masterlist

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x male reader

Batfamily x male!reader - this is part 1 everyone.

Summary: some talking is done.

Warnings: angst, fluff, (Y/N) is trying and so is the fam, cursing, trying to forgive, a punch was thrown, cutting people out

The fight echoed through the manor. Even days after it, the tension was still palpable. (Y/N) truly wanted nothing more with his so called brothers and father. If they tried to talk to him, they would be ignored or (Y/N) would just snap at them.

Almost biting their head off.

Safe to say, things were going to complete and utter shit.

Bruce didn't even know how to start talking to (Y/N). Was he emotionally reserved? Yes. But will he try everything in his power to make it right?

Yes. Everything he can do, he will do.

Bruce has decided to call a meeting. He made (Y/N) leave his room and (Y/N) has never looked worse. He couldn't sleep for days on end, only getting about 4 hours per night. He wasn't in the mood to eat either. He was only alive because Alfred had to make sure he was still alive.

Everyone noted that he looked like he didn't want to live anymore. More so, he looked dead. (Y/N) just sat down, an angry look on his face, arms crossed and body language closed off. He sat down as far as away as he could from them, clearly not happy to be here in the slightest.

He tucked himself in the chair, ignoring everyone and everything.

" (Y/N)... " Bruce started quietly, clearly not wanting to have a blow out and an explosion. " We have to talk through this problem. " Bruce continued just as softly and (Y/N) scoffed.

" We know we have been... Neglecting you, to say the least. But... We want to fix our mistakes. We want to be better. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chose to roll his eyes instead of listening. No matter what they could say could ever fix this.

" Well... 10 years too late. " (Y/N) said sarcastically, tapping his fingers against his tucked up knee, clearly anxious to leave this room behind. He really was anxious too leave.

" And we realize that. " Tim started softly, looking at (Y/N) with a sad look on his face. (Y/N) wouldn't allow them to see them sweat.

" Bullshit. " (Y/N) said quickly. They don't realize shit. " You are only doing this because Jon came over and pointed it out and now you are worried that the word doesn't spread. " (Y/N) spat out, leaning on his tucked up knee, glaring that the floor.

" That is not true. " Damian said and (Y/N) looked up, glaring at Damian, scoffing at the words, then laughing bitterly.

" Oh please. You never told Jon about me! I'm assuming all of your friends don't know I exist, right? " (Y/N) said as he rubbed his eyes from the exhaustion.

The silence was the only answer that (Y/N) needed.

" Yup and there it is. No one knows I fucking exist! " (Y/N) said loudly, blood pressure raising. He took a deep breath to calm down. " Just as I thought. No one knows I exist. No one even cared about my school achievements either... Let me ask you something Bruce. " (Y/N) asked, turning his attention to Bruce.

" Do you have a college fund for me? Just like you do for other four? " (Y/N) asked, itching for an answer. When Bruce looked away in shame and (Y/N) scoffed yet again.

" Also, don't you fucking dare setting it up. I have got a scholarship anyway. " (Y/N) answered the unasked questions. Bruce was proud of (Y/N). How could he have done this to (Y/N), forget to put a college fund...

" I'm sorry (Y/N). I didn't mean to forget you. " Bruce said, keeping his distance, but wanting nothing more than just hug him and kiss the anger away.

But alas, that's not how it works. (Y/N) has to forgive him first.

" Can you tell us more about the scholarship? " Jason chimed in, wanting to speak about something that (Y/N) could be happy about.

" It's for MIT. " (Y/N) said quietly and everyone was in shock. They didn't know that (Y/N) was into science and mathematics and what not.

Another mistake of theirs.

" That's amazing (Y/N). " Tim praised, smiling at (Y/N). Getting into MIT is hard as hell.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, but deep down inside, he craved that praise more than life. But some praise won't erase everything that happened.

" You would really have to move then... " Dick said sadly and (Y/N) glanced at all of them. They all seem sad that he would have to move all the way to Massachusetts, but it would be necessary. (Y/N) needed to get out of here. One way or another.

" I think what we all mean to say is that we are sorry. There is no excuse, not a single thing that could justify what we did and what we have caused to you. " Damian said and (Y/N) was shocked to hear the word sorry just tumble out of his mouth like that, so effortlessly. So easily. But he composed himself quickly.

" How do I put his nicely? " (Y/N) said, looking sarcastic. " I don't give a damn about any of you. I don't give a damn about apologies at all. I don't care about any of you. The moment I move out, all of you are going to be dead to me. Period. " (Y/N) said as he quickly stood up, going to his room.

He isn't going to fucking listen anymore.

" No, (Y/N) wait! " Everyone called after him and tried to stop him. Jason managed to grab his arm, but (Y/N) threw a punch and knocked Jason down on his ass, making the others rear back. It was a truly what the fuck moment for all of them.

(Y/N) was never violent.

(Y/N) slammed the doors of his room shut and everyone was silent. Jason was breathing heavily through his mouth as (Y/N) broke his nose.

" He has a hell of a punch. " Jason muttered as he stood up.

" We have a shit ton of gravelling to do. " Tim muttered and everyone nodded in agreement. Saying that they are dead to him, well, will be dead to him, that was sort of a nail in a coffin. Coffin about their relationship...

That was probably on the brink of death, if not dead already.

" Come on, he needs some time alone. " Bruce said and ushered everyone out of the hall, mostly Jason to take a look at his nose, to treat it and heal it.

That same night, (Y/N) quietly managed to get his things into a car, while others were on patrol and blocked them in the process. Then he started driving to MIT, because he didn't have the nerve to put his things onto a plane and go. And besides, he didn't have enough things anyway.

(Y/N) could finally start his new life.

[authorhjk1]

Can Light Blue work?

https://www.reddit.com/r/KoreanCelebrityFap/s/GG1w2YcbDZ

Light Blue

(Choi Sooyoung X Male Reader)

The sky is light blue. The sun is slowly coming out and the moon is already gone. The big venue is empty. Barely any sign of the event that took place here last night. The loud cameras and their flashes of the reporters. Singers who performed their songs last night. Actors and actresses who received rewards for their outstanding performances. All gone. All quiet.

"Fuck me harder! Yes!"

Sooyoung lets out a cry of pleasure. It tears through the silence. Scared pigeon fly off the roof.

"You're too tight, Sooyoung. Fuck!"

You groan as you try to increase your pace.

The big hall is empty. Just last night, hundreds of people were sitting in chairs around tables, looking at the stage.

That's where the two of you are right now.

"Oh god! Oh god!"

Sooyoung moans, on all fours on the stage. You are right behind her, thrusting into her from behind.

"Pull harder, yes!"

You tighten your grip on her ponytail, making Sooyoung's head fall back.

"Almost there!"

You reach forward with your other hand and slip it underneath her dress. The top part is revealing enough already, so you just pull it to the side, freeing her tits.

That's what you led you here in the first place anyway. Her revealing outfit. And her flirting.

"Squeeze them harder, yes!"

You like how Sooyoung tells you exactly what she needs. That way, you can be sure you are doing everything in your power to fuck her properly. How she likes it. How she deserves it.

Leaning over her a little more, you roughly grope at her chest. Your added weight makes her arms weaker. Sooyoung's upper body inches closer towards the stage.

"How are you this tight?"

You groan into her ear, unable to contain yourself.

"How are you so big?"

Her breathless question makes you grin. Up until now, you were kneeling behind her. But since Sooyoung lowered her upper body, her ass has moved upwards a little. You raise one leg, plant your foot on the stage and drive yourself even deeper into her.

"Oh, shit! Deeper!"

How can she keep asking for more?

Her walls clamp down around you as you thrust even deeper. Or at least try to. You weren't exaggerating earlier.

"O-o-oh, g-go-o-d-d!!!!"

You can't see it, but you could swear Sooyoung's eyes have rolled all the way back. Her cheek is pressed to the floor. You can see her drooling onto the stage. The stage she stood on barely five hours ago with her members. Five? Really? Or has it been six already?

You can't tell. You don't have a watch on you.

As Sooyoung turns into a stuttering mess, you reach from her tits to her core. She has already been gone that far for a couple of times now.

Getting her clit rubbed makes her cry out even louder. No words anymore. But simple syllables. Only a couple of letters. No meaning.

Wrong. One meaning.

"Oooooooh!"

Her eye piercing scream echoes through the hall as you make her climax around your cock. Right here on this stage. With hundreds of seats pointing in your direction.

You almost wish they were occupied. You wish your favourite idols could watch you fuck one of their own. One of the members of Girl's Generation. Right here. On stage.

As you close in on your own orgasm. Your vision becomes slightly blurry. And now, it really looks like you could see some of the chairs being occupied.

You could swear you caught a glimpse of Jiu, who is covering Gahyeon's eyes with her hand, while her own are wide open. Her mouth a surprised O.

A couple of tables to left, you spot Yujin and Wonyoung. The younger one's princess like face is frozen in a surprised gasp, while Yujin's eyes seem to follow your every move.

"Fuck, Sooyoung."

You mumble, knowing that you are done within a matter of seconds. Her pussy and the visions in front of you are too much for your brain to handle.

Another glimpse at the sea of empty chairs. No not empty. Winter's wide eyes, Karina's subtle bite of her lips. Irene's disgusted look, Seulgi, who covers her eyes, visibly shy. And Joy, who shamelessly has her hand underneath her dress. Rosé is in the same state as Seulgi, Jennie watches you with a huge smirk on her face.

You could swear the two of you lock eyes in that moment. In that moment, just as you are about to finish inside Sooyoung. Jennie seems to mouth something in your direction. A lustful stare in her eyes. She says it slowly. So slow, you almost feel like the world has slowed down.

"C-u-m."

"Fuck!"

You groan one last time, burying yourself as deep as possible inside of Sooyoung. You hear a distant moan, your mind still clouded by the pleasure.

The venue isn't silent anymore. Sooyoung's heavy breaths and moans. Your own groans and heavy breaths. Gasps. Voices. Cameras.

[littlereddream]

Biomimicry, anyone?

Reader is gn in this one, little coffee shop meet cute with Jason and reader. I didn’t even know biomimicry was an actually major prior to looking a few things up for this fic. The more you know!

Click.

Click.

Click.

Scratch.

Nope, no good.

Riiiippp.

One more try.

Scratch.

Pause.

Shhhhk!

With a groan, you fall back in your seat at the booth, hoping the paper you’re glaring at can feel enough of your frustration to suddenly supply you with all of the answers to your problems. It wasn’t like you wanted to be sitting in an empty cafe close to midnight working on homework for a class you don’t even take. You thought you’d be done hours ago, the assignment seeming so easy when your friend initially begged you to do it for her so she could attend her sister’s wedding.

Said friend fully neglected to let you know that the assignment required detailed notes from the related four hour long lecture. The same notes she forgot to give you before apparently losing all signal that would allow her to send them to you.

So.

Teaching yourself the lesson from a class you’ve never even considered taking isn’t the easiest task. It’s time consuming, exhausting, and, most of all, boring. It’s what has you offhandedly doodling alternative ideas for your celebrity signature in the corner of your page. At least, that’s what you were doing before you pressed the pen into the page too hard and tore half of it apart.

The old woman who runs the cafe took pity on you ages ago, supplying you with an endless amount of white macadamia cookies while you work. On the house, she insisted. The green discoloration on the edge of the cookies told a different story of her reason for giving them away so easily.

You pick up the pen to try again, this time turning your attention back to the assignment directions sitting on your laptop screen, when a bell chimes into the otherwise quiet space.

The later the night, the fewer customers visit the shop. Most people don’t dare tempt the idea of walking this end of the city, especially not when it’s this dark out. The civilians feared the criminals, the criminals feared the Bats. It’s that same, seemingly endless food chain that has every sensible person who can help it steering clearly of nightly escapades.

Clearly, the man who just walked in has just as poorly sensible as you.

He’s the typical, shady Gotham figure. Thick jacket, hood turned up, hands stuffed into pockets, and head angled down. He’s either about to pull out a weapon to threaten Miss. Aublergine with or demand a pre-agreed upon payment from her.

Neither of those possibilities warrant the old woman’s response. It’s enough to ease your tension, the way she lights up entirely upon seeing him.

You’re sat close enough to hear most of their conversation, abandoning the tricky assignment in favor of listening in.

“You! I’ve been wondering when you’d stop by this week,” she scolds, pulling out a small paper bag from under the counter to drop fresh, warm chocolate chip cookies into.

You can’t really see the man’s face from where you’re sat, but you can make out the minute shrug of his shoulders.

“Got busy,” he says.

You can see him pull out a leather wallet, but Miss. Aublergine is quick to slap away his hand from dropping cash into the tip jar.

“I’ve told you, I don’t want your money. If you really want to pay me back, get the loner sitting back there out of my shop so I can close already.”

She’s leveling you with a knowing look, hands on her hips and a single brow raised, and you drop your gaze back to your laptop. Either you were too obvious of an eavesdropper or she had the eyes of a hawk. Probably a mix of both.

“Yes, okay, message received. I’ll head out now,” you mumble.

While you’re busy gathering all the papers in a neat stack, you can just barely make out the muted conversation happening some feet away. Not enough to understand what’s being said, unfortunately. A few seconds later, footsteps echo over tile to where you’re sat, and worn out boots enter your field of vision. Hoodie dude.

You look up, right into alert green eyes. Green eyes that are focused on the laptop still out on the table.

“Need any help?”

Huh?

Oh.

“Not unless you happen to know anything about biomimicry,” you huff.

He smiles, and what a sight it is indeed. “I do, actually. Mind if I…?”

Too late, you realize that he’s gesturing to the empty seat next to you. At your nod, he lowers himself down.

With his help, the missing lecture notes suddenly don’t seem all that important anymore, every gap in your resources filled by the knowledge he just happens to have. He seems engrossed in the work, hardly paying attention to you next to him as he explains everything. At some point, his hood comes down. At another, your shoulders relax.

Somewhere between both of those points, you’ve both inched a little closer.

No one else enters the cafe for the entirety of the time you and him are sat together. It’s like the world around you has gone silent, sound itself pausing to give the both of you space to breathe.

And then you’re shutting the laptop with a relieved sigh, paper written and assignment finished. Neither of you move right away, but soon enough you start to pack the laptop away with the rest of the papers. It gives him an opening to stand, and when you look back up, the hood is back on.

“Thank you,” you say.

He seems genuinely surprised that you’re still talking to him, enough for his response to take a second longer than it should.

“It’s no problem. Glad I could help.”

He steps back a little, giving you enough space to slide out of the booth yourself.

“You really did. I have no idea how I was gonna get that done myself. Before this, I had no idea biomimicry was an actual major.”

He angles his head to the side a little. “Not your homework?”

“Nope. Friend of mine needed help.”

He gives an understanding nod, and the two of you are thrown back into silence. With a glance outside, it seems the night’s only gotten darker.

“I gotta head out, thanks again.”

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you’re stopped by his hand around your wrist. It’s instinct to snatch your arm back, but by the look of his face, the way he’s staring at his hand like it doesn’t belong to him, he hadn’t even realized he’d done it.

“Sorry. I just- sorry. Um.”

Somewhere outside, far off into another block entirely, a car alarm echoes down the street.

“You’re walking home?” He asks.

To give the random, still suspicious stranger who helped you with homework the answer to a possibly identifying question, or not.

“Yeah?”

He looks uneasy at that, eyeing the street outside the glass windows like they’re personally whispering threats into his ears.

“It’s late.” He points out.

“I noticed.”

“Dangerous neighborhood.”

“Noted and confirmed.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes in a way that suggests he’s seconds away from dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m saying, you shouldn’t be walking alone.”

Suspicious, suspicious man.

“Walked here just fine, didn’t I?” You reply.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “At a much earlier time, I’m sure.”

Finally, you decide to do you both a favor and beat at the bush instead of around it.

“If this is you trying to walk me home, I think I’m gonna pass. I appreciate the offer and all your help, but I don’t even know your name and I’d rather take my chances walking alone.”

Too harsh? Maybe. Possibly. He did just help you. Should you take it back? Say something else to soften your words? He doesn’t give you the chance to.

“Oh, right. I got it, no problem. Sorry. Be careful, no shortcuts,” He rambles, sincere and apologetic. You almost feel bad, if not for the fact that Gotham’s taught you how much better it is to be safe than to be sorry.

Just as you’re about to leave, a cough rings out from behind the register. There’s the old lady, hacking up a storm and making odd flapping motions with her hands. What- oh. She’s waving you over.

It takes five seconds for you to cross the distance over to the counter and one second for Miss. Aublergine to pull you closer by the arm to where you can just barely hear her whisper.

“Jason has been coming here almost every week for the past few months. He always tries to tip me extra, sometimes comes in with his brothers or sister,” she trails off, taking a second to return to her original thought. “Point is, I know him. He’s a good kid, not a single bad intention in him. Let him walk you home,” she hisses.

You falter, looking behind you to where the man—Jason, apparently— is closely examining the specks of dust on a nearby table. His gaze lifts to catch yours, then immediately returns to the table. He’s as bad at hiding his eavesdropping as you are.

You trust Miss. Aublergine. You know she wouldn’t throw you to the wolves if she knew better.

One last encouraging look from Miss. Aublergine has you turning back and walking over to where Jason is now overwhelmingly interested in the marble tile. You stop in front of him, aiming for an easy smile.

“Still up to walk me home?”

With a matching smile, though it seems like it takes a little effort, Jason nods.

“Of course.”

[wishful-sinful-9]

WANNA BE YOUR DOG

Chapter Four

Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader

Chapters | Masterlist

cw: suggestive

You don’t sleep. You lie under the covers, hyper-aware of the man on the other side of the wall. In your restless mind, last night’s event plays over and over and over again.

The two of you had broken apart after those few blissful seconds to blink stupidly at each other. The only thing able to snap you out of your trance was an icy gust of wind making your whole body shudder, at which Logan said hurriedly, “We should go inside.”

An awkward goodnight and that was it; your doors clicking shut simultaneously. Did that mean he regrets it? Do you regret it? You groan into your pillow wishing only to sleep, sleep, sleep. 

–

Logan goes to work early and comes back in the mid-afternoon. In the evening, you take the bus to the bar; he drives there later. As you ward off nasty men all night, there’s a deep dread weighing you down inside at the thought of yet another excruciating ride home. 

The second he starts up the van, he turns on the radio. The Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses fills the empty silence in place of conversation. 

“I like this song,” you say meekly. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, “Stones are great.”

Another awkward goodnight. And that’s all you said to each other today. 

–

After another day passes, you don’t know whether to cry or scream. You can’t meet his eyes and now he can’t meet yours either. You’re wound up so tightly that you fear what will happen to you when you unravel. Sat on the couch, you remain as far away from Logan as you can manage without making it apparent you’re trying to put space between you, bouncing your knee. The house is dark and the TV glaringly bright, causing your eyes to water, but you keep on staring straight at it. 

Logan, however, is staring straight at you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks after nearly half an hour of hesitation. 

That’s all it took. 

“No, Logan, I’m not okay,” you snap. “After we – the other night – and then you just don’t say anything to me! For fuck’s sake, it’s been radiosilence from you for two nights! You could at least tell me you regretted kissing me-”

“Regretted?” he echoes, brows furrowed.

“Why else would you ignore me?” you shout. 

Logan stands, abandoning his beer on the side table. “I don’t regret shit. I thought you were the one who regretted it, since you haven’t been able to look me in the face since.”

You leap to your feet. “I was embarr-”

“Do you regret it?”

The question makes you pause. Logan waits, staring you down with such an intensity it should make you want to run – but you don’t, you step closer, recalling his taste, his touch… 

“No.” You answer. 

His expression softens as he processes this new information. “Then…why are we fighting?”

“I don’t know,” you breathe, the both of you inching tentatively closer. You take in his face as the light from the screen flickers across his features: he’s handsome in a classically rugged way, so much so it makes your heart swell against your ribcage. He gently settles his hands on your waist and you peer up at him nervously. “Will you kiss me?”

His lips collide with yours the second the words leave your mouth, his arms engulfing you as you loop yours around his neck. It’s pure passion. The slightest whimper escapes the back of your throat, causing him to bite down on your bottom lip. Your hands immediately make their way up into his hair. 

You break for air, gasping and panting, and he takes the opportunity to pull you back down onto the couch, settling in his lap. He begins to descend down your neck: starting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and settling at the base, kissing and suckling. Your hands find purchase again in his hair. You gasp when he finds a sensitive spot, and he sucks a mark there before attacking your lips again eagerly. Heat is pooling in your lower abdomen, and your hips twitch, a subtle half-grind that Logan picks up on straight away. He bucks up into you and presses your hips down to meet him in a grind that makes you stutter out a startled moan. Your bodies move just like that as you kiss each other feverishly. 

When you pull away from his face, his pupils large with lust, gazing dreamily into yours – you realise what you’re doing. 

“Wait, Logan – wait,” you pant. 

He stops immediately, studying your face with a terrified expression. “Are you okay? I can stop.”

You giggle airily, feeling a little light-headed. “I’m fine, Lo, I just don’t want to jump into things.” You see him exhale with relief, wrapping his arms around your middle to hold you closer. “After everything with my last boyfriend…”

“I understand.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll take it slow, sweetheart, no rush at all.”

–

The next week was tentative. You tested the waters first, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he left for work in the morning. Then he put his arm around you when you watched TV together; you pressed your arm against his as he washed while you dried the dishes; he put his hand on your knee when driving home the previous night. 

Although he could never admit it to himself, Logan is absolutely terrified. You’re such a sweet thing – delicate and lovely next to him. Like glass. He worries that if he were to hold you too tight you’d shatter into a million little reflective pieces. 

Sore from swinging an axe all day, he drives home, recalling how he once lived so coldly in this van when it dawns on him that there’s no going back. Your warmth sustains him now. A rare smile lifts his lips at the thought of your big eyes and pretty face greeting him at the door. 

The saccharine fantasy is instantly crushed like a bug by the scene that awaits him inside. He sees you standing in the living room, a girl he doesn’t recognise crying on your shoulder. Something sinister seizes in his gut when he sees the distant, anxious look in your eyes as you half-heartedly pet her hair. 

“Who’s this?”

–

At first, you’d simply stared, dumbfounded, when Alice appeared at your door. 

“He kicked me out and I have nowhere to go,” she’d wept, and, in spite of everything, you stepped aside to usher her into the home you once shared. 

You tried hard to forget how familiar it sounded when she explained how he’d found someone else and left her in his dust. There was a heaviness in your bones when you brought her into your embrace. 

“You can sleep on the couch.” you sighed. 

–

“Why did you let her in?”

Your bedroom door clicked shut behind Logan as you slump on the bed with blushing cheeks. He must think I’m such a loser. 

You let out a shaky breath, “We were friends for years, practically sisters, I couldn’t just… say no.”

He snorts, and tears prick at your waterline. “Some sister.”

Your lower lip trembles. You bow your head so that he can’t see you try to blink back the tears –  but it’s no use. 

“Hey, I just mean…” he stoops down and takes your chin in his hand. “She hurt you. She could hurt you again.”

“I know, but…” you sigh. “It’s worth giving her a second chance.”

An unreadable look flickers over his face; he swallows hard before murmuring, “If that’s what you want.”

a/n: so sorry this took so long!!

@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu @policedeer @curlies-world @twinky-wink @willow-t @nobrihere @marshymallo @jasmines-greentea @pink-jello-fish @unlikelygalaxygiver @yakbuttersoup

[updownlately]

i want you to be (the only one for me)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 10.3k | a/n: part II of this fic based on this ask! thank you guys for all your lovely messages on the first part! two months later and we finally got a part two 😅. huge huge s/o to @rockyren for beta reading this! hopefully you guys like this one as much as the first! happy reading! 🫶 (read part i here)

~~~

Two days.

Two days is all it took for Leah to realize how miserable she was. 

If the blonde thought that you being distant earlier was painful, then she was sorely unready for how bad your actual absence would hurt.

There was something utterly unsettling in the way the car seemed so empty as she’d entered it, a lump in her throat forming as her drives to and from practice were now blanketed with silence, a stark contrast to the music-filled joyrides she would have with you. 

From what used to be one hand casually on the steering wheel with the other firmly intertwined with yours was now both hands tightly gripping the steering, knuckles nearly white as they resisted the urge to reach out into the nothingness to her left, to the ghost of your presence, a taunting reminder of what she had and then lost.

Trips that were once accompanied by your shared laughter and obnoxious singing now consisted of pure quiet, the radio long since on mute. Jaw clenched as her eyes would, without fail, get misty each time she sat in the driver’s seat, the empty seat beside her remained a constant reminder of how you’d left.

The drastic change left her feeling hollow, chest wound up so tight as the space in the car felt like too much and too little- felt like it was wrong for the blonde to be here without you sitting in the passenger seat- in your seat. 

She could almost imagine your presence, having become so accustomed to it over the past months. 

Now, every time her hand mindlessly wandered over to blindly reach for yours, all she was met with was cool air and an aching heart, a shuddering breath escaping her as reality came crashing down.

And if the car rides hurt, god the way her chest constricted as she’d return to an empty apartment each evening was another story.

It was as if the hand around her heart was tightening with every passing second as she’d walk through the dark apartment, the weight on her shoulders heavier with each footfall of hers. 

Only her kitbag to be placed by the door. Just a single pair of trainers on the shoe rack. No trailing body behind her own as she’d enter- the once lively four walls now barren, devoid of emotion.

With just her pair of footsteps echoing throughout, only dinner for one to be sorted, grief buried itself in her chest as she flicked on the tv, mindlessly scrolling, shaky breaths escaping as your half finished nature documentaries taunted her on the ‘continue watching’ list. 

Sure, it felt wrong to be here, in your apartment, without you, but she didn’t think she could bear to return to her house, to return to a place where pieces of you didn’t exist- at least not as much as they did here. 

There were snippets of you tucked everywhere in the apartment. In the coffee table that held an ever growing stack of sticky notes you’d never read. 

In the records that were nestled away neatly under the tv, your favourites jutting out slightly, something you justified with the words ‘easy access’ and a smirk as the blonde would complain about them looking messy. 

In the way Leah couldn’t find it in herself to close the blinds, memories of you standing by the large windows overlooking the city at all hours of the day playing painfully in her mind whenever she tried.

And yes, of course there were remnants of you scattered throughout because this was your apartment, but there were also chunks of you because it was your apartment- because you being you, you loved so hard, so unconditionally, so unabashedly, that it couldn’t help but seep into the walls, into the worn-out book covers and spines, into the cushion that permanently rested against the arm of the couch, your tendency to lay on the couch post practice practically a ritual now. 

Love couldn’t help but bury itself in every little thing, each item precious and cared for deeply.

There were hints of you tucked into every inch inside these four walls and Leah couldn’t help but grasp at them in a futile attempt to hold on to your love- love she didn’t know if she’d ever get the chance to be bathed in again. 

So with tiredness buried in her chest, Leah tried her best, collecting her grief quietly as she’d see your favourite mug on the drying rack. Another ounce of it bundled deep in her heart when she couldn’t bring herself to cook in the mornings, too many memories of breakfasts you’d cook as the blonde would be draped across your back lazily as you hummed a song only you’d know.

With a hole in her heart, she’d gotten up these past few mornings, choosing to head to a nearby cafe instead of entering the kitchen- the cold sheets that met her hand as she’d instinctively reached across the bed already ruining her a day that had barely started. 

She didn’t want to talk about how she went out of her way to head to the bakery slightly farther from your house, purposely going past the store nearby that you both frequented often. How she avoided it like the plague since you had left because she didn’t think she could order there without a tear or two falling, silently crying as she ordered.

So while the ghost of you haunted her, as she lived in an home that was yours but a shell without your presence, she quietly begged the universe to convince you to come back, hoping, praying, waiting endlessly for a chance to mend things, because, if she was honest, nothing felt okay, nothing felt right ever since you had left- ever since you weren’t there to love the blonde anymore.

~~~

Before the blonde knew it, it had been a little over three days of your absence.

Three days of Leah quietly letting her heart constrict a bit more, the smile on her face becoming tenser, more forced. 

Seventy two hours of the blonde looking at your contact in her phone, the number staring back at her tauntingly, daring her to dial it. 

Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes of contemplating whether she should send a text or a call. She didn’t want to pressure you, or worse, make you any more upset. 

Sighing to herself before locking her phone for the millionth time today, she tossed it to the side, head falling ungracefully into her hands.

With every passing second you were gone, with each minute she spent alone, in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home, the heart of it gone the second you had sped out of the parking lot days ago, it felt as if her world was slowly crashing down, her unable to do anything but watch in horror at the destruction occurring around her.

The most she had seen you since was the practice this morning, you appearing on the pitch mere seconds before it had started, an anomaly considering you’d often be in earlier than needed, wanting to do some of your own warm-ups before practice. It’s one of the things you and the blonde agreed on, her never needing much convincing to join you.

Today though, there you were, seconds before you had to be, once energetic, now quietly running through the drills as you hung your head low, coasting by, avoiding Leah’s piercing staring. 

You ignored the way she shuffled closer to you, inconspicuously taking a step back each time she got nearer. 

You did your best not to shiver as you felt her gaze on you multiple times throughout the two-hour long practice, a shaky breath escaping you as you realized the roles were reversed from the day in the club- except you both were hurting.

And as much as a piece of you craved to gather the other girl in your embrace and take the brokenness out of her dull orbs, you knew you couldn’t- not with the way she had grasped your heart and let it fall so many times before, the poor thing nearly shattered into pieces by now- bits you cradled so gently now as they cut you, doing your best to put them together, scars littering your hands.

Even if you wanted to comfort the midfielder, you couldn’t find it in yourself to, for your own sake, for your own sanity.

And, in your defence, while you had a very likely feeling that Leah wasn’t doing great, her dark eye bags anything to go by, you weren’t okay right now either.

You’d been crashing with Steph since you had left the game that day, and it hadn’t been pretty if you were honest.

Having spent the better part of the first twenty-four hours newly single cooped up in the spare bedroom, you’d been cocooned in one of the fluffiest blankets the defender could find, an old Arsenal hoodie of Leah’s that you kept in the trunk of you car fitted on your frame and matching your bloodshot eyes.

It was only the second night that you had even left the room, head aching from the never-ending tears, blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, a dead giveaway of your heartbroken state. 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to end at all. 

But you didn’t know how many more ‘maybes’ you could take. 

How many more times you could handle taking a photo with the blonde only to be quietly asked not to post it anywhere. 

How many times you could watch as she acted like she was single, only to join you in your bed when night fell and there was nobody but the two of you to witness it. 

You’d been grateful that while Steph had been shocked to find out about your relationship with the English skipper, she hadn’t said a word to anyone else, taking somewhat of an older sister role, immediately protective of you.

It’s why no one questioned the distance between you and Leah, more than accustomed to how you both would only sometimes interact, blissfully unaware of the rift between the two of you, only the left-back in the loop.

So you hid behind Steph throughout the practice that morning, dodging each and every single attempt Leah made to talk to you, counting down the minutes until it would be over so you could escape.

Communicating with the others only as much as you needed to, you ran the drills, grateful that your position as a winger meant you didn’t see much of Leah. 

It was only when it came to five-a-side did you interact with her, keeping it minimal as you quietly asked Lina to switch, you now attacking on the right instead of your usual left to lessen your contact with the blonde.

You held your breath as Jonas announced the teams for five-a-side, only letting it go when play had started and the two of you were on different teams. 

And as you walked to the other side, trading spots, you couldn’t help but take a brief glance at the skipper, immediately turning your head to the side as you saw her face fall, the smallest hints of hurt flashing through her eyes, unrecognisable to everyone but you.

Pressing your arms tightly to your sides, hands clenched into fists as they fought to reach out, you did your best to focus on the movement of the ball. 

Watching it be passed around in front of you, you begged your mind to figure out the lapses in the defence, only for your gaze to fall on the blonde and your mind to go wandering yet again. 

It wasn’t fair that someone could look so beautiful even after sweating for nearly two hours. 

Closing your eyes as the thought ran through your mind, you took a deep breath in before trying to refocus on the game, willing for your heart to get it together. 

How was it fair that even broken up she still had this effect on you, playing with your heart strings ever so teasingly.

You knew loving her had been hard, but you’d never known breaking up with her would’ve been even harder.

Sighing as you got passed the ball, you did your best to stay professional, your broken heart hidden carefully away with the rest of your relationship- a secret heartbreak for a secret relationship, how cruelly fitting. 

~~~

It’s later that same day that Leah’s patiently waiting at home for your return. 

She had hoped that maybe you had changed your mind by now, or at least maybe have decided to swing by in order to grab a change of clothes, or do laundry, or maybe grab that book you had started a week ago. 

Really, something- anything- that meant that she’d get to see you. Anything so that she could fix what she had broken.

You’d been miles away from the blonde at practice and Leah couldn’t remember the last time she felt so small.

Sure, she’d met with multiple sports personalities, royalty, execs of some of the biggest companies for partnerships but she couldn’t recall the last time she felt so out of place. 

The absence of your mere presence beside her, brought the defender a sense of unrest she didn’t know existed. She’d gotten used to having your constant presence around her, a quiet love that manifested itself as relief, any tension almost immediately slipping away whenever you were near the blonde.

With it gone, all Leah could do was sit in agony, searching for a sense of comfort that she knew she wouldn’t find.

Hands balled into fists as she sat on the couch, an old UWCL game playing on the TV, her notebook long forgotten as was her attempt to distract herself by taking notes, the blonde let herself fall back into the couch, palms of her hand harshly pressing into her eyes.

Three days. 

Three days had passed with you not here and Leah was an absolute wreck.

Leg bouncing anxiously, a half-eaten takeout haphazardly tossed into the fridge, hair a mess from the countless times she had ran her hand through it, the blonde was on edge, perking up at the tiniest sounds she heard, hoping that one of them would be you.

But as hours passed, afternoon turning to dusk, dusk to night, Leah sat on the couch, no sign of your return in the distance. 

Fuck.

~~~

Five days.

That’s how long it took for Leah to come to terms with the fact that she was, in fact, in the wrong. 

Five long, lonesome days is what it took for her to realize that there was a difference between private and secret. 

To realize that maybe if she’d been confident enough to keep it private, you’d still be here, in your apartment, in her arms. 

That maybe if she hadn’t been terrified of what people would say, or the focus that would be placed on you both, she wouldn’t be alone right now, heart in pieces, body exhausted, no thanks to herself.

If she was honest, these past few days had given her more than plenty of time to realize she didn’t want to lose you. You were the best parts of her. You loved the worst parts of her and still stayed. 

Yet, here she was, about to push you away with her stubbornness- so stuck in protecting her identity, her career, her future, herself, she blissfully ignored that she’d been hurting you the whole time.

It’s why, even though it was nearly quarter past twelve the night before another training day, the blonde sat in the bed with her laptop in her hands as her eyebrows furrowed at the screen.

Sighing in an attempt to fend off the oncoming tears, she rubbed furiously at her eyes. 

After having convinced herself it wasn’t a good idea to ring up your friends and the teammates you helped close in an attempt to find you, the midfielder had settled upon planning on how she could convince you to give her another chance.

It’s sometime between figuring out whether she should bring you your favourite to practise, wary of the other girl’s reactions, that the defender’s phone buzzes, jolting her out of focus.

Heart leaping at the thought that it might be you, the blonde scrambles to find her phone in the mess of sheets. 

Paper’s flying as dug underneath to locate the source of the vibrations, she could feel her heart pounding, nearly rising to her throat as she pulled her phone from beneath the papers.

Lia. 

The three letters was all it took for her heart to break again, shoulder’s dropping as her stomach sank.

Dejectedly hitting swiping to open the notification, she swallowed hard as she scanned the message, Lia asking whether they were still on for breakfast before practice tomorrow- somewhat of a ritual over the past few months, every few weeks before late morning training a recent tradition for the two to catch up. 

Eyes flickering between the pages strewn across the bed and the tabs mockingly facing her on the laptop screen, the words nearly typed themselves as Leah watched.

‘Can’t. Got plans. Sorry.’

She had more important plans tomorrow….namely to get her shit together and get you back. 

Not bothering to wait for a reply, mind already determined, she threw her phone away and let herself fall back into the head, praying that the gamble she was about to take would work.

She could only hope.

~~~

Five days. 

Five days without a single text, a single phone call, a single voicemail.

Leah had five days and you had zero indication that maybe she ever even wanted you at all. 

Sighing to yourself as you dropped the phone onto the couch beside you, you could feel Steph’s judgemental stare.

“You could just call her, y’know? Phones work both ways…”

Eyes shooting over from where you were looking out the window, you shrugged your shoulders in response, a cold shiver running through you, mind a mess.

“I could…but why…”

Swallowing to hold back the tears that you knew were coming, you shifted in your seat in an attempt to get rid of the anxiousness in your spine. 

“I could, but she’s had the time to as well. She’s had five whole days for fuck’s sake. And what did I get in that time? A text? A call? Any indication that maybe she misses me? Misses our relationship? That it meant anything to her? None. Not a single one Steph.”

Closing your eyes as you felt your heart clench as the words that had been floating around in your mind finally rang through the quiet house, you clenched your hand in a fist.

Wiping away the one tear that had escaped with your other hand, you took a shuddering breath before continuing. 

“I’ve spent the last two weeks wondering if I was ever good enough for her- if I ever meant anything to her. Two weeks telling myself that maybe she cared an ounce of what I do. That she actually wanted me in her life, in her future.”

“And you know what? You know what Steph? I don’t think she does. I don’t think so. Because maybe, maybe, if this all meant anything to her, something to her, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now. Maybe she’d be with me. I’d be in my apartment, with her, wrapped up beside her. But I’m not. I’m not and she’s not the one beside me. She’s not, and I think that’s telling enough.”

Breathing heavily, your heart pounding as you felt it constrict, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat and pick your book back up.

And as Steph stayed quiet, you silently wondered if you ever meant anything to the blonde, the question continuing to haunt you as quiet voices in your mind answered with resounding ‘no’s’. 

~~~

The drive the next morning to practice is silent, but Leah’s mind isn’t.

Variations of apologies are floating through, the blonde testing the ones she likes out loud, wincing as they gradually sounded worse and worse.

I’m sorry that I didn’t treat you right.

I’m sorry that I hurt you so many times…give me one more chance?

I’m sorry for being a daft.

Inwardly sighing at how dumb the last one sounded, she shook her own head.

Maybe she’d just let the moment guide her, let her heart say the words. Surely it couldn’t go wrong, right?

You’d always been a sucker for romantic, heartfelt confessions, constantly swooning when the two of you would watch romance movies, you nudging the blonde and making little comments whenever the lead actor did anything chivalrous.

Taking a handful of deep breaths as she pulled into the parkade, the blonde parked swiftly as she noted the time. 

Fifty-three minutes before practice…surely you were going to be here soon. 

Armed with her kitbag, cleats, two coffees, and a small bouquet of sunflowers- your favourite- Leah trudged inside, face set in a determined glare, quietly glad that no one else was here yet. 

~~~

At this point, Leah figured that if you even showed up at all, it’d be a miracle.

There was something humiliating about sitting in an empty locker room, bouquet of flowers in hand, two coffees, and only one person. 

If Leah looked hard enough at the ground, she was sure she’d find the piece of her breaking heart there. 

She’d been hopeful as she had entered the room, fifty-one minutes before anyone was due to show up, six minutes before you typically used to show up.

By the forty-fourth minute before practice, she wondered if you’d hit traffic on the way in, or maybe lost your trainer (you had an uncanny habit of losing just one- don’t ask Leah how, she didn’t know either, but she found it for you each time).

By the thirty-seventh, doubt started to creep in.

What if you were finally, truly done with her shit.

What if that last game had unknowingly been your last straw- her last chance.

What if you’d finally given up and moved teams because of the blonde.

Maybe you’d found someone else.

As each thought got more ridiculous than the previous, anxiety creeping up her neck, Leah could feel herself sink further into her own locker, her coffee long gone, yours nearly frozen. 

At the twenty third minute, cutting it close to when the rest of the girls were about to come in, the skipper picked up the flowers and her own broken heart, placing the bundle gently at the bottom of your locker in a desperate plea that maybe you’d see she wanted you back. That she was willing to try.

Pouring out the last of your coffee in the sink as loud voices of fellow teammates neared, the blonde quietly tucked away the sinking feeling in her stomach, holding her breath as she strained her ears to find your voice.

If not before practice, then she’d catch you afterwards. She needed to.

Silently hoping you’d see the little note she’d tucked in the flowers, a failsafe she had ready (thank God), the blonde plastered a fake smile as the door to the locker room swung open, making her way to her own locker as she greeted everyone but the one person she wanted to see the most.

She didn’t know how long she had left, and most definitely didn’t want to test it out. 

~~~

Cursing to yourself, you sprinted into the change room just minutes before practice started, nearly crashing into the door before you just barely managed to get it open.

God, you were late.

You’d come in separately this morning, foregoing riding with Steph to instead look at new apartments this morning.

Since the night you’d broken up with the other girl, you hadn’t yet visited your home once, not yet ready to face the harsh reality that no overconfident blonde defender would be deftly coming and going as she pleased. 

Coupled with the fact that too many memories that you couldn’t bear to recall would haunt you if you ever returned, you’d decided late last night that going back to your old apartment was a definite no.

You were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be able to enter the apartment without wanting to instinctively remind Leah to rack her shoes properly as she entered behind you, the blonde often opting for kicking them off regardless of the innumerable times you told her off for it.

And you definitely couldn’t enter your own kitchen, memories of failed dinners as you’d to teach the blonde to cook, the two of you always eventually ending up somehow distracted, food overcooked or burnt as the blonde would try to stifle a laugh at your incredulous expression, before you’d burst out in laughter as well, reaching for the take out pamphlets. 

The bedroom was most surely off limits too, countless, countless, nights of the two of you spent late into the morning talking about nothing and everything, sometimes just holding each other in silence as you bathed in the other’s presence.

Walking through the halls would be a whole ordeal of itself as well, pictures of the two scattered throughout, pictures that the others had never seen because Leah would beg you to take them down the few times you had people over.

It’s that final thought that had you clenching your jaw hard, your eyes narrowing as you made your way over to your locker. 

Cautiously setting your kit bag on your seat, your head tilted to the side as you took in the easily recognizable yellow petals that sat at the bottom of your cubby.

Only one person knew that you were a sucker for sunflowers, one person who’d just recently broke your heart. 

Holding your breath, you reached towards the bouquet, the card stock jutting out of it begging to be read.

‘i’m sorry for how many times i’ve hurt you. you probably don’t want to hear from me and that’s fair but i want you to know i’m  sorry and i want to do whatever it is i need to  to fix us. i still love you and i can’t think of a  future where i’m happy and you’re not in it. i probably don’t deserve it, but could i please get one more chance? i promise i  won’t let you down.     - yours, lw’

Eyes tracing over the words, all you could think was why now? Why written out? Surely, she could’ve said the words aloud to you if she’d truly meant them, having more than enough time over the past week, and really the past couple months of your relationship. Why was it that even though they were expressed, did your relationship still feel like a dirty secret- a small card tucked in the flowers that could be from anyone, signed with initials rather than a name. 

And how were you supposed to believe her this time having heard these words countless times before? How many promises were you going to watch her break? Each and every time, why was it you giving her another chance to break your heart again and again, letting her stomp all over what was already broken, brutally smashed and beaten by no one other than her.

Surely you deserved better- better than a couple of flowers shoved deep into the bottom of your locker, accompanied by a card that was nothing more than ink on some paper. 

Shaking your head to pull yourself out of the spiral you were going down, you tossed the card back onto the bouquet, instead bringing your focus back to getting ready for the training that you were more than definitely late for now.

You were a strong believer of second chances- but for your own sanity, it’d be better if you stopped now, at the thirtieth or so that it was- one too many to have kept count.

~~~  

It’s you running sprints at the end of practice, the understandable punishment you’d received for being late, the rest of the girls slowly filling out as Leah tried to find some excuse, any excuse really, that she could stay back and wait for you.

She’s grasping at nothing, sputtering an incomprehensible reason to Lia as the Swiss is pulling her by the arm, inside.

With the brunette only tightening her hold as she disagreed, Leah had no option but to dejectedly follow.

“Nope, no. Not today, you cancelled on me....you better have a good reason.”

It was just the blonde’s luck that Lia thought the defender was avoiding her, trying to stay back so she wouldn’t be questioned on missing breakfast. 

Unbeknownst to her though, if to no one else, it was clear as day to Lia that something had occurred within the past few days between the two of you. 

She wasn’t blind to the way her work wife suddenly seemed ever so slightly disconnected during training, mind seemingly eons away- a surprise considering the blonde prided herself on giving 110%, even during practice.

Combined with the way you’d stormed off a few days ago and the nil interactions the two of you had had as of late- something she didn’t think was just a mere coincidence- she figured that right now, you deserved your space, and Leah likely a telling off, if the fact that your sunshine mood was in the dumps and the blonde exuded waves of nervousness was anything of a sign.

Somehow managing to wrangle her English counterpart away from the field, Lia led the blonde away from the locker rooms, instead choosing a secluded hallway near the back ends of the stadium to confront her. 

Turning around sharply once she deemed they’d walked far away enough, Lia fixed the other girl with a questioning stare, her best captain’s stare if she said so herself.

“So what’s really going on?”

Swallowing hard at the accusing question, Leah contemplated telling the truth for just a second.

It would make it easier…

“What do you mean?” Instead, feigning innocence- not wanting anyone involved in the mess she created, she tilted her head in faux confusion.

Confusion that the Swiss woman could see right through. 

“Cut the bullshit. You and I both know there’s something going on…You can either waste both our time denying it until I eventually go and ask her…or you can tell me and we can at least get somewhere. And I know which one I’d pick…”

Leah could read the silent threat in the midfielder’s eyes. The slight eyebrow that was raised no doubt indicated that she wasn’t messing around, more than ready to go and confront you about everything. What she also knew was that if it was Lia talking to you, you wouldn’t hold back.

The choice was clear, really- but the defender didn't choose it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Leah watched as the woman in front of her eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as she tilted her head back in a ready challenge.

Please don’t call my bluff.

All the blonde could do was pray silently.

“Okay.”

One word.

One word was the reply the blonde got, Lia staring at her silently for a second longer before marching away, a determined weight set on her shoulders. 

It’s fear that has Leah blindly reaching out, her hand connecting sharply with the Swiss’ wrist, pulling her back before she could make it any further. 

“Promise me you won’t ask her about this. You can’t Lia…please…”

Nearly begging, the skipper, eyes silently pleading, held on tightly.

“I’m going to ask this once, and only once more…Leah what happened?”

She could either tell Lia of how she’d failed to treat you right and get absolutely bashed for it, or she could push it under the rug once more, make a lame excuse and get out of this.

Sighing deeply to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose, the blonde made her decision. 

Maybe it was time she grew up. 

~~~

You do your best to hide your surprise as you walk into the locker room and don’t see Lia or Leah, the absence of LW squared making your heart leap into your throat, thoughts you knew were nothing but blasphemy clouding your mind.

You knew they were work wives, nothing but platonically of course. You knew they prided themselves on being the best of friends on the pitch and off it. You knew there was nothing more going on between them- well, at least you hoped, for you didn't know what you would do if they were anything more. 

The thought that you’d never been enough for Leah still floated around your mind. You weren’t a crazy striker, or a mind-blowing defender. You were a midfielder that just so happened to be pretty good at their job, but that was all.

You weren’t special. You weren’t the captain of your national team. You weren’t heavily sought after for brand deals, you weren’t the popular, favourite player that Leah was- the player nor partner she deserved. 

You were simply you- and you didn’t know if that was enough for the English skipper.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the thump of the door hitting the stopper, two distinct voices echoing through the hall as the owners make their way in.

Leah and Lia.

Willing yourself not to turn around, you take a peak out of the corner of your eyes, immediately regretting your decision. 

The pair was close- Leah had an arm slung over the other girl’s shoulders, a soft smile on her face and the Swiss captain had her own arm around the English skipper’s waist and it did nothing to ease the rampant thoughts in your mind.

They were both sharing hushed words, indifferent to the few stares in their direction, too consumed in their conversation to bother paying attention. 

It was only as Lia gave Leah a gentle squeeze in the side-hug that they had going on did the pair break up, the two still sticking close together as they headed towards Leah’s locker. 

Turning to face your locker, your eyes caught the bright yellow of the petals, jealousy anger coursing through your veins as what used to be your favourite laugh rang out. 

Hastily grabbing the card and throwing it back into your locker to be dealt with later, you stared at the sunflowers peering up at you. 

Ironic that of all the days to receive them, you’d gotten them when the world felt anything but full of sunshine and rainbows. 

Making the quick decision, you quickly grabbed the bouquet on your way out, ignoring the questions being shot your way from the teammates that heard the unmistakable sound of the cellophane. 

Quietly letting Steph lead you out the door, you quickly glanced behind you in a silent prayer that Leah still cared for your presence- that she was looking at you.

She wasn’t.

Tossing the flowers into the nearest bin as a sour expression crossed your face, you helplessly let the thoughts of the past two hours take a hold of your heart, the poor thing constricting ever so painfully.

Clenching your jaw and hastily tossing on your headphones, you shouldered your kit bag, more than ready to get out of here- to go to a place that felt more like home than your apartment now ever would.

With you long gone before Leah even leaves the change room, you don’t get the chance to witness the way the blonde stops talking mid-conversation as she’s leaving, her stopping in place as her eyes notice the golden petals that peeked out from the top of the bin. 

It’s why you’re unknowing of the way the blonde’s heart shatters a bit more, her eyes widening, heart sinking, and head immediately hanging low as she processed the bouquet unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

And with a rough shrug to get out of Lia’s comforting pat, instead wiping away tears she refused to let fall in the presence of the few remaining teammates, Leah hurries out, discussion on how to win you back momentarily forgotten as she focuses on soothing her aching heart.

~~~

It’s a couple days later that the weight of you leaving makes itself known again to Leah. 

The past few days, the blonde had been silently stewing in the memories of you two, but had been fortunate enough that there weren’t any new stark reminders of your absence. 

But now, if Leah was honest, the feeling of you not near the blonde as she walked off the pitch post-game felt like a stabbing pain in her chest.

It was odd, the way wins didn’t feel like wins as of late.

Not when you weren’t by the blonde’s side. 

Euphoria wasn’t an emotion she felt of late, but with the absence of you in your rightful spot to the right of the blonde as she walked around the pitch, misery stung the blonde harder than before.

The high Leah (rightfully) expected after the win against United didn’t come.

It didn’t pounce on her immediately as the whistle blew at the end of the game.

It didn’t hit her like a truck as she headed towards the locker room.

It didn't sneakily creep up on her as she entered a locker room full of her fellow teammates dancing in celebration, music blasting, the joy palpable in the room.

All that sunk in was the gut wrenching feeling of regret in her chest as she timidly watched you make your way to your locker. 

For the past few days, three or so having passed since she last saw you at training, the blonde had been crashing with Lia, not that you would know. 

She’d been actively visiting your apartment, trying to find any signs of life there besides the three plants of yours she’d been watering in her visits. 

Each time though, she was left with not a single trace of you, it evident that you hadn’t been home yet. 

It was just slightly over a week of your absence, and with each passing day, Leah was losing a bit more hope, a bit more of her sanity, a bit more of her ability to feel anything but despair.

So it didn’t surprise her that the exhilaration of the win didn’t come. It was the norm. It was the norm for her now that she’d gone and fucked up. 

Rubbing a hand over her face as the sight of her teammates came into view, Leah tried to will away the spiral of thoughts in her head, headache imminent with the lack of sleep she’d had these past ten days. 

Sighing to herself at the pounding music in the room, the blonde hung her head low, trudging her way to her kit bag as she pretended to yawn in case anyone asked about her foul mood. 

If she’d looked up once though, she’d have seen your concerned look. 

She would’ve saw the way you had involuntarily turned to face the blonde as she entered, your arms itching to reach out and pull her into a hug, as you had done many times before in the safety of your own home.

But she wasn’t yours anymore. She wasn’t yours to hold, to hug, to comfort, especially anywhere but in the four walls of your apartment.

So you’d brought your arms taught around your own body, giving yourself a hug as your heart sank, a shaky breath escaping you as you closed your eyes, letting the overwhelming emotions wash over you. 

~~~

It’s as the girls are leaving the locker room that Katie remembers to invite Leah for the celebratory night out the team had planned. 

You’d been asked immediately after the game, the Irishwoman surprisingly able to sense the change in your mood as of late, doing her best to try and make you laugh more in the past few days to try and silently uplift it, bless her. 

You’d thought about going. Considered getting more than friendly with Millie, your last conversation with Leah replying easily in your mind. 

Maybe if you’d make her jealous she’d realize you still existed. 

But just as quickly as those thoughts crossed your mind, you shook yourself out of them.

If she couldn’t see your importance in her life, you weren’t about to go and beg for her to see it. You couldn’t show her something that wasn’t there.

Having then declined the offer, you’d cited your tiredness as an excuse.

Now though, you tried to act nonchalant as you eagerly awaited Leah’s answer, well aware that she was one of the last people asked.

Maybe she’d wonder whether you were. 

The blonde was tired, that was clear for all to see. But would that be enough for her to spend the night in? 

Would your absence mean she’d go home in misery, or was the blonde okay? More than over you, ready to move on?

You wondered if she’d find someone to bring home tonight. Whether she’d spend the time at the bar (that they’d inevitably, somehow end up at). Would that someone be better than you? Better company? A better girlfriend?

Hearing the immediate cheers following Leah’s quiet hum of agreeance and quiet ‘why not?’, you bit the inside of your cheek. 

God, how could you be so naive to think she’d ask if you were going?

And as your thoughts spiralled again, you felt a gentle hand come to rest on your shoulder, Steph protectively stepping into your space as she could practically feel you fall into the rabbit hole of your mind. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

The both of you having agreed that Australian would drop you off at her place before heading out with the team, you adamant on her enjoying the win and her night, you let yourself be led out, increasing the volume of the headphones on your ears to drown out the world, and more importantly, your mind. 

~~~ 

The air’s chilly and Leah can’t help but wrap her arms around herself a bit tighter in a futile attempt to stave off the cold.

She’d expected the crowded club that the team had arrived at to feel stuffy and hot, but it wasn’t the case. 

All the blonde could really feel was the cool breeze she couldn’t locate the source of and a constant shiver in her spine as she saw practically everyone but you there. 

Having waited all through dinner praying you’d show up, and then convincing herself you’d be there as the team decided to move things to a club, the blonde felt stupid for not remembering how you hated cramped social gatherings like these.

For the months that you were together, Leah had gotten accustomed to spending nights in, cherishing them actually, for they gave her the breather she so rarely got. 

It’s why she’d love it when you’d often pass up the nights out, giving Leah the perfect opportunity to leave events early, a smile on her face despite being called variations of ‘old’ and a ‘party-pooper’, the thought of going home to you more than overpowering the salty accusations. 

The few times you’d both gone out together with the team, it’d always ended with you two sneaking out of the celebrations early, revelling in the chaos or peace of the night as you’d trek home, more than content to be in each other’s presence.

It had gotten to the point where the few date nights the two of you had consisted of Leah convincing you to stay in. The decision was a mix of not wanting to be in the public and getting you all to herself, but she’d never tell you that. 

And yeah, sure, she’d avoided you on the nights that you’d both be out, surrounded by teammates and friends celebrating god-knows-what, but she swears she did it for your own good. You didn’t need the press, the comments, the voices that came along with the fame.

At least she made the decision you didn’t. 

It’s looking back now that she realises the implications of her actions, her avoidance of you no doubt a joke- her only failing to protect you from any hurt, instead being the one to cause you grief.

God, she really treated you and your relationship like shit…

Shaking her head to herself, mood already soured with the lack of your presence, Leah excused herself from Lia’s side, heading to the table and grabbing her coat. 

There wasn’t a point staying. Not when you weren’t there too. 

Bidding her goodbyes and ignoring the pleas to stay longer, Leah shot the Swiss captain a grateful look as she distracted a tipsy McCabe away from trying to convince her to stay. 

Taking a deep breath as she exited the stifling building, the blonde began her trek home, lost in her thoughts, wary of the empty apartment she’d no doubt be returning to. 

~~~

Steph had texted you early on in the evening, letting you know that Leah was at the dinner, and you didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

All you knew was that it was the perfect opportunity for you to finally grab your things, a change of clothes, something you desperately needed now that winter was finally kicking in. 

You’d expected the blonde to be gone at least a few hours, so you’d taken your time to show up, grabbing dinner before you had made your way over. 

What you hadn’t expected though, was the blonde cutting her night short- the clock reading near half past nine taunting you as you heard the familiar jingle of keys as the front door opened. 

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest- hell, you could hear it, as you listened to the sounds of the taller girl kicking off her boots, something you would tell her off for time and time again. 

Holding your breath as you heard Leah hang up her keys and drop her clutch on the island as she always did, you wondered if you had enough time to escape. 

Surely, you could sneak out, right?

Shaking your head at the stupid idea, you looked around you, contemplating on how you were going to get out of this.

What were you to tell the blonde? That you weren’t kicking her out of your apartment? That you instead were moving out, already having talked with your tenant about likely cancelling your lease soon. You wondered what Leah would think you’d ask for her set of keys back- for her to take her stuff to her house as you’d empty your apartment.

You wondered if she’d then realize that she’d likely ruined the last good thing you had going for you, a house you’d been staying in for nearly two years now, a place you cherished deeply but now needing to say goodbye to. 

Sighing as you took in the sight of your clothes scattered around the bedroom, clothes you’d been sorting into a ‘yours’ and ‘Leah’s’ pile, you waited to hear the movement of the blonde. 

It was only as the trudge of footsteps padding down the hall reached your ears did your throat go dry, body freezing as you anxiously anticipated seeing Leah in your bedroom for the first time in over a week. 

Swallowing hard, you wondered if this was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. 

~~~

Leah didn’t know how she didn’t notice the light peeking out from under the bedroom door. Nor how she missed your infamous Converse tucked behind the door. 

All she knew was that you were here. 

Here, in your apartment. 

In your shared bedroom.

And all the blonde could do was stare at the sight of you looking like a kid caught stealing out of a cookie jar, the various piles of clothes scattered around you making you look tiny.

Flexing her jaw a few times, the midfielder struggled to find any adequate words, a quiet ‘what?’ the only thing she was able to muster out. 

There’s a blanket of silence that covers the room after the word, the pair of you rooted in your spots, staring at each other. 

It’s only as Leah realises that the hoodie currently in your grasp is one of her old England ones, from camps eons ago, does the silence break.

“Wait a second- I’ve been looking for that...”

Furrowing your eyebrows, your shock long gone and anger replacing it, you did your best to keep your voice level.

“That’s your concern?”

This was the first and only chance the blonde had gotten to you since you’d broken up with her, and her concern was the hoodie you were holding. 

“You know what? Fuck off.”

Throwing the hoodie at her with all the rage you could muster, you watched as it softly hit your ex in the face, Leah pulling it off as her eyes widened. 

“Okay wait! Wait. No. Sorry. It just took me off guard…” 

Rubbing her neck sheepishly, the blonde brought the hoodie behind her in an attempt to brush over what just occurred. 

Shaking your head because of-fucking-course, you pinched the bridge of your nose, pausing for a moment before realizing just how utterly done you were with the blonde already.

Waiting a second to see if she’d continue, to see if she’d ask you how you were, what you were doing, or better yet, apologise, you sighed as silence overtook the room once again. 

Checking your watch, you figured that if you ran through all you needed to, you could be out of here by half-past-ten, a whole hour earlier than you had originally planned for. 

“Listen, all I need is like an hour then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Muttering the words, disdain clear in your voice, you started speeding up your actions, sorting the pile of clothes behind you and tossing everything that was yours into the open suitcase.

It took a minute for the defender to understand what she just heard, to comprehend what she’d witnessed.

One hour and then you’d be gone? 

Taking note of the clothes scattered across the room and recognizing her extra pairs of pyjamas and trainers in the decently-sized pile on one side, garments that looked distinctly like yours in the other, the blonde felt dread sink in.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…what do you mean ‘out of my hair’?”

It’s as the weight of the words sunk in did Leah step into the room, squinting her eyes as her mouth fell open slightly, body rigid with concern.

Sighing deeply inwards, you ran a hand through your hair, pulling it slightly in an attempt to stave off your annoyance.

“Leah, I’m moving, yeah? It’s about time.”

You watched as the hoodie fell from the blonde’s hands, dropping unceremoniously  into ‘your’ clothes pile as she swallowed hard.

Yes the pair of you weren’t together anymore, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to move out, much less out of your own apartment, that’s for sure. 

Shaking her head as she felt her heartbeat pick up, panic in her eyes, Leah closed the distance between you.

“You’re not moving out.”

The statement was nothing of a question, hands going on her hips as the blonde eyebrows furrowed.

“I know I hurt you, but you can’t move out.”

Watching an exasperated expression cross your face, an expression that Leah was all too familiar with, having seen it every time she declined your request to post a picture of the two of you, she dropped her own shoulders, closing her eyes in defeat. 

“Please don’t move out.” 

Please don’t leave me.

“Please.”

Sorting the shirt that was in your hold, you placed your hands behind you, letting your weight fall on them as you leant back, head thrown back, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling you were very much used to seeing on lazy mornings spent with the blonde in front of you. 

Making sure your voice was steady, you closed your eyes as you spoke. 

“We’ve broken up. One of us needs to move out.”

“No...”

“Leah…”

“No.”

The second ‘no’, firmer and coupled with a definitive tone in Leah’s voice had you appalled, your eyes opening as you righted yourself and faced her

“No? Leah, I’ve spent enough time seeing you with another woman outside of this apartment. I’m not in the fucking mood to see it here as well, in my apartment.”

You waited to see if she’d offer to move out instead, considering this was your place after all. 

You waited, only to be met with silence. 

Guess it was a good thing you didn’t wanna stay here anyways. 

“I mean it. Please don’t go…”

The timid voice had your shoulders dropping. 

Sure, she broke your heart, but it didn’t mean you were heartless.

Deciding to humour her, for your own sake- you wanted to see just what her justification would be, you hummed in response.

“Why?”

She’d broken your heart enough. So why was it that she was asking you to stay? 

You watched as the always-confident blonde wrung her fingers, her head hung low as she stared into the ground. 

“I still love you…”

The weight of the words blanketed the room in quiet. Or it might have been the blood rushing in your ears. Either way, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing- unable to do anything but sigh in response, mind a frenzy. 

Racking through your brain to find the right words to say, you curse at the universe for aligning so maliciously. 

“You can’t just say that.”

“Ba-“

“No.” Cutting her off, your voice raising slightly, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You can’t say that. You can’t say that when you’ve practically been a stranger to me any place outside of these four walls. You can’t say that when all you’ve done is gone and break my heart multiple- Leah, multiple times. You can’t say that when you haven’t once rung me in the week that we’ve broken up. You don’t get to call me ‘baby’ anymore and you don’t get to say those three words anymore.”

You’re breathing heavily by the time you finish, having gone and stood up at some point during that rant. 

Eyes level with Leah’s as there’s a defiant look in your eyes, you wait.

You wait to see just what excuse she’d come up with this time.

“I didn’t-“

Lips pursing, you rolled your eyes. You knew how these words always ended.

“Let me guess…you didn’t know if I wanted to hear from you, yeah?”

You watched as she nodded sheepishly, nearly curling into herself as your voice got sharper with each word. 

“Y’know…I told myself that maybe if I waited long enough, that you’d eventually care enough. Told myself that if I tried hard enough, loved you enough, was a better player, a better girlfriend, maybe I would’ve been good enough for you. That you’d want me as much as I want you.”

You watched as Leah looked at you, it clear that she was itching to say something, but you continued. 

“I spent the last week with my ringer on, do not disturb off, hoping you’d call. Hoping you’d text. Send me a message, someway, somehow. Anything that would let you know me breaking up with you killed you as much as it killed me. And what did I get? Nothing.”

Your voice is quiet as the final word slips through, the both of you staring at each other, the room an outright mess with the clothes strewn around, suitcase open beside where you were sat.

Truth be told, you didn’t want this to end. 

You didn’t.

All you wanted was for Leah to realize your importance in her life. And whether that was good or bad, you wanted to know where you stood- because you’d stick around if she loved you, but you couldn’t bear to stay if you weren’t wanted. 

You couldn’t light a candle in the rain. 

Watching as Leah flexed her jaw once, then twice before inhaling deeply, you felt a chill go up your spine as anticipation slowly killed you. 

“It hurt more than I could ever imagine…”

The confession was quiet, barely a whisper, but it had your attention, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other girl.

“It’s killed me every time I’ve come to this apartment alone y’know? Every single time I’ve walked into this place and you’re not behind me yelling at me to put away my shoes properly.”

Swallowing her emotions down and steadying her voice, she continued.

“Do you want to know how wrong it felt, driving to practise without you beside me? Without your humming and singing? Or how much it sucks not being able to stand beside you at practice. Or how the only thing I’ve wanted these past few days is just one of your hugs- the ones you give me when you know I’m not feeling well, too tired to do anything but cuddle you?”

“It’s stupid, but I’ve visited- stayed- at your place nearly every day since our breakup, hoping each day that you’d come back and I could- we could talk. That I could make it up to you. I’ve missed you. I really have. More than anything else ever- I swear. Spent the first night and the second too, on your couch, hugging your favourite cushion and your international hoodie.”

Smiling bitterly to herself at the memory, the blonde wiped away the few tears that had escaped.

Feeling your eyes starting to sting as you remembered just how gruelling the first few days had been for you, you quickly wiped away the one lone tear that managed to escape, holding back the oncoming sniffles.

Feeling your chest rise as you did your best to loosen the anxious feeling in your chest, you stayed rooted to your spot, too afraid to move for fear that Leah would stop talking.

“Did you read the note?”

The question was small, especially after the large confession just moments ago, and it had you nodding in response, scared that you’d break the atmosphere in the room if you spoke too loud.

“I-,” Leah cleared her throat, running a hand through her own hair as her gaze met yours again. 

“I meant it y’know? Seeing you and just you in my future? I wanna fix this…us. I’d really like to fix what I broke, if you’d let me.”

Biting back a grimace because wow, were you really about to give her the power to break your heart again. The one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t let her do- not anymore.

“I don’t know how to trust you again…”

You knew the words were harsh, but they were the truth.

How could you trust someone that single handedly broke your heart over and over again. 

Holding your breath as you watched Leah slowly step forward, inching towards you until she was merely inches away from where you stood, you wondered if you could ever let the blonde back in. 

“One chance is all I ask for. I’ll earn your trust again, I swear. Just please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

You watched as her fingers flexed, jaw clenching and unclenching as the blonde fought herself internally. 

As she made a decision, you smiled at the way the little crease between her eyebrows disappeared, a place you loved to kiss whenever the blonde was upset about the movie you’d choose for movie nights. 

So caught up in your memories, you were only jolted out of the dreamland your mind went to as you felt Leah hesitantly grab your hand, the touch cautious and feather-like as she tried to gauge your reaction. 

Looking down at your intertwined hands, you bit your lip, one question floating around your mind. 

“Are you planning for us to continue being a secret or…?”

Closing your eyes as you waited for her answer, you wondered if this would be the last time you’d feel Leah’s touch. 

You knew you couldn’t bear to be a secret. You liked private, sure, but all you really wanted to do was be you. Be you and her, and be able to show the world that, without bounds. 

“No.”

Eyes flying open, you narrowed your eyes at Leah, surprised by the confident tone, so sure of herself, so assured, that it nearly had you convinced. 

“And if you let me down?”

“Then I’ll leave your life myself, just say the words and I’ll go. But I don’t plan to let you down. Not again. Not ever. I don’t want a life without you. I’ve had a taste of if, and fuck, I needed that. I needed that because I know I’d rather deal with everyone’s comments, everyone’s judgement, their prying, their invasive questions, than lose you.” 

Swallowing hard at those words, you felt your shoulders relax, mind and heart practically numb with the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. 

Words a whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks as the weight of the past week hit you, you prayed that you never felt this type of hurt again. 

“Hurt me again and I’ll break your kneecaps alright?” 

And letting yourself be pulled into the taller girl’s embrace, you let yourself sink into her hug, a warmth you’d missed so dearly, so fervently in the past few days- a hug that even the best Calvin cuddle couldn’t compare to, you let out a sigh.

Things weren’t alright yet. They weren’t going to be for a while. 

But this was a step in the right direction. A step you’d take, praying to the universe that it wouldn’t let you fall- at least not without someone to catch you. 

You just hoped it would be Leah- she was the only one you wanted to catch you when you fell. You just had to trust her word that she would. 

[rabbitsrams]

snowy mornings - jschlatt x reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit suggestive at the end :)

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: its not even close to winter but i wrote most of this in one sitting so enjoy hehe

(moodboard by me, pictures not mine)

The sun barely peeks past the clouds. Small sprinkles of snow are still falling from the gray sky as Schlatt leaves the house. 

He's all bundled up. He's wearing at least four layers underneath his coat, something his mother always insisted he do. A hat that you got him as a gift is snug on his head and thermal gloves he's had since he was sixteen keep his hands warm. 

He looks through one of the windows of the house as he walks to the sidewalk, knowing you are still sleeping. He wishes he could be back in bed with you. Wishes he could have you in his arms. Wishes he was wrapped in blankets with you by his side as the heater warms the room.

But he's got a shovel in his hand, carrying the thing over his shoulder while he goes to the corner of the block, freezing his ass off even through all the layers.

His poor neighbors, elderly and helpless. They always thanked him whenever he shoveled for them, asking their children to come over and bring him some baked goods once the afternoon came. He didn't do it for some reward or anything, he knew some fucker would try to fall on their unshoveled property and “sue them for all they're worth,” as he told you one time. He just wanted to help them out and make sure their pathways were cleared.

He forgot to bring headphones out, so instead of blasting King Krule and Radiohead, he listened to the scraping of the metal against the concrete. The scraping that echoed throughout the entire block, likely waking light sleepers from their slumber. You were one of those light sleepers, and yet you stayed asleep. 

It was taxing going around the corner and back to his house to clear pathways for walkers alike. His neighbors would do it as well but in due time. They weren't early risers like he was. But only in the winter.

Memories of his father waking him and his brother up at ungodly hours to shovel after overnight blizzards crashed their way into New York. Those mornings were silent as well; it was like the grating scraping was music to his father's ears.

He managed to complete all the shoveling in less than an hour, his personal record. 

Quickly walking back up the driveway as the sun completely rose, he placed the shovel against the garage and went back inside, shivering and stomping the snow out of his boots. 

He yawned as he took his hat off. He placed it on the flat part of the handrail, looking at how the snow immediately started to melt into the fur. The gloves were next, he was shocked his fingers weren't completely numb. Then the jacket, also hastily hung next to yours, untouched since yesterday. The boots were left right by the door to be moved later as he walked up the stairs and to the bedroom where he discarded the extra layers.

He didn't see you stir as he entered the room. Even in your tired state, you could tell he was out of bed. You opened your eyes and saw him undressing, remaining in an old t-shirt from his father's college days and flannel pajama bottoms you often coveted.

You stretch, yawning softly. That gets his attention. He walks toward the bed and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You're shocked awake by how cold his nose is.

“You're so warm...” he says, your neck muffling his words.

“Baby, you're freezing,” you hum as you pull him into bed with you. “Did you go out and shovel?”

“I always do.”

“Aww...” you kiss him on the cheek as you wrap the blanket around him. “You're so good.” 

He hums a response, cuddling close to you. He holds you tight against him, wrapping his limbs around you in an awkward manner.

“You are too fucking tall.” You joke. 

“And you are too fucking beautiful,” He kisses your neck many times. “And warm.”

“Go back to sleep, honey. You need to rest.”

“'S long as I can hold you in my arms like this, I'll sleep forever.”

You giggle, your laughter turning into a soft yawn. “Even when you're tired as shit you're still corny...” Your eyes close as you begin to stroke his hair.

He wakes before you once more five hours later. Your hand is still resting on the side of his head while the hand where your wedding ring rests is closer to his face. 

He shifts slightly so he can have a better view of you. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe, your nose too stuffed for you to breathe through it properly. He can see the gap between your two front teeth, something that makes your smile all the more beautiful.

You eventually wake to the sight of your husband watching you. He’s smiling softly, tiredness still present in his eyes. “Hey, you all warmed up?”

“I am… you’re so pretty…” He lays his head on your chest. You smile, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get something,” You say as you try to get out of bed. He tries to grab you and bring you back to bed. “Just give me ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You come back ten minutes later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’s sitting up at this point, a hand running through his messy hair. He smiles when he smells the steaming beverage and reaches his arms out as you place it on the bedside table. You get back into bed and snuggle close to him as he blows on the drink.

“You remembered the marshmallows…” Schlatt says, a yawn obstructing his words. 

“Of course I did.” You say. He laughs softly and wraps an arm around you. He tries to take a sip of the hot chocolate but hisses in pain as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, fuck.”

“Burns?”

“Yeah,” Schlatt waves a hand in front of his open mouth to try and ease the pain.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You joke. He nods, leaning close to you. You grin as you cup his face in your hands, the hair on his muttonchops tickling your palms. You press your lips to his softly, letting out a soft noise of surprise when he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He tastes like hot chocolate and home.

When you pull away, his face is tinted red. “All better?” You ask, feeling your face heat up.

“Um…” Schlatt pretends to think for a moment. “I don’t think so.” He tugs at the hem of your, his, sleep shirt.

“Oh… well I definitely need to do something about that.” You raise your arms above your head and allow him to take the garment off before leaning in once again.

[mawofthemagnetar]

TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug. 

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter. 

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon. 

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat. 

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message. 

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out. 

He put his comm down, and took another swig. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out. 

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet. 

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance. 

Of course. 

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse. 

<Renthedog was blanched to death> 

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef was portaged to death> 

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned. 

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85 became part of the weft> 

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

<Xisumavoid was hooked to death>

<Grian was torqued to death>

<Tango was unraveled to death> 

<Zombiecleo was racqueted to death>

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…” 

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks. 

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button. 

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior. 

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button. 

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior. 

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap. 

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages. 

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph! 

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad! 

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message. 

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence. 

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in. 

Finally, Cleo broke the silence. 

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds. 

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah 

<TinfoilChef> anyway 

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee? 

[aethien11-blog]

NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. (Also, I’m a sappy, silly, dork at times. Sorry not sorry.) I took some liberties when it came to JJK as I’ve only seen the two seasons on crunchy roll and kinda ran with it. Sorry if that’s upsetting.

The boys reactions to learning their s/o has been kidnapped

Fem Reader x : Sakuna, Megumi, Nanami, Itadori

WARNINGS: use of ‘naughty words’, mentions of blood, rape, mutilation, death, violence, and possible spoilers.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The King of Curses was phased by nothing. Your presence (or lack of) wasn’t that important. He could go a day without you, without thinking of you.

Ryomen snarled. And yet here he was again for the fifth time this hour wondering how much longer you planned to take. Just how long did humans need to visit family for anyway? What was so damned special about it? 

“Great One!” Uraume immediately knelt beside him. 

“Uraume?” His four eyes blinked once before, “Where is y/n? Waiting my room?” It was a pleasant thought but his battle instinct said otherwise. 

“Forgive me, Great One. Lady y/n,” Uraume stiffened.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he snarled.

“Forgive my error. Lady y/n was taken, my Lord.”

“Taken?”

Maybe it was fear, maybe a blush that lit Uraume’s face. “Yes. Lady- lady y/n sent me away briefly so she could speak with her family. Apparently, I make them uncomfortable.” It was only a moment but it felt like an eternity passed before she spoke again. “I should have sensed it. I apologize for my error, Great One.” “What are you yapping about? And where is she?” Ryomen roared. 

It was impossible to still the tremble that shot through her body. “I don’t know where she is, Lord Sukuna. Only that she sent me away. I stepped to the door, heard something, turned and she was gone. Every member of her family were slaughtered in that moment.” Uraume trembled again. “I don’t know, my Lord.”

“Her body was not among the dead?” It didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t say that. His chest just moved weird when he asked. It wasn’t like his heart could actually hurt over this.

“She was not, my Lord.”

“Hm. I should have figured. You would have brought me a corpse at least, if that were the case.” 

“Your trust is flattering, my Lord.”

“Hmph. Find out who took her and what they want. You have one day.”

“My lord.” Uraume disappeared from his sight quickly then.

Yes. It didn’t matter if you were gone a whole day. He wouldn’t allow it to affect him but hell was coming for the creature that disrupted his plans for the evening. 

*******************************************

“Wow. I’ve seen stupid before, but you’re something else.”

“Ssshhh ut up, human.” The creature’s hissing speech was irritating enough but if this thing thought it stood a chance. “Or I’ll shh, cut out that ssstupid tongue.”

You giggle. “As if. Lord Sukuna will turn you into kibble.” Briefly you scrunch your brows before wondering out loud, “I wonder if Uraume has fed his pets yet today.”

A blade appeared, pressed to your lips. “Sssssh ut it!”

You can’t help but smile and lick the flat of it. “You don’t stand a chance.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Why are we being called in?” Megumi asked in his usual uninterested tone.

“The higher ups have a stick up their ass and they want us to pull it out…probably,” Gojo sniped before finishing with a grin. 

Megumi rolled his eyes. One day, his teacher was going to step too far and those same higher ups were likely to come down on him but today wasn’t the day…probably.

The doors came open as Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, and Saturo stepped close. “There is no time for greetings. Seat yourselves and let’s begin.”

“Well, nice to see you too,” Saturo Gojo sniped with a smile. “Whaddya got for us?”

Heavy sighs echo through the small room before a woman’s voice said, “Watch.” On a screen on the side of the room, a newscast was being played.

As soon as the reporter switched to the scene behind them, three sets of eyes turned to Megumi. He didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to yours looking up him through the screen. 

To say Megumi was used to loss was fairly accurate. He accepted loss was a part of every mission and pretty much expected it… but that was no excuse for you to go and get yourself captured by curse user. 

The demands were that one person alone was to deliver their required ransom for you (another cursed object that should never leave the school) or they would turn you into their newest curse. Worse, they made the demand publicly, ensuring the higher ups couldn’t just sweep their request (and you) under the rug. 

What none of them expected was that Megumi would volunteer to be the one to deliver their ransom. Or that he would have a plan to get you back without having to give up the cursed item.

********************************************************

These fuckers were in for a hell of a surprise. You weren’t worth anything and you knew it. Just some orphan left in the care of the state to manage a life that had thus far amounted to little. For fuck sake, you only graduated high school last year and who in their right mind tries to take a cafe barista as a hostage. These guys were nuts. 

But hearing what they demanded and their threats just riled you. No, you weren’t worth some great value but you’d be damned if they were doing a single thing to you without a fight. 

KENTO NANAMI

The steady clack of keys on keyboards was near deafening as the entire office echoed it. Blank faces stared at bright screens as the sun sank behind the horizon. Another day of boring repetitive garbage. 

Nanami stood from his desk, collecting his things in his usual slow and perfectly controlled manner. At least y/n should be ready by the time he got there. He had worked a little late, but then, you usually took an extra minute to close up shop. 

Nanami smiled to himself as he lifted his briefcase and slid his laptop in. You always made him a special set of bread as the last one of the day so it would be fresh and warm even after you both got back to his apartment. Maybe he should ask, no no. He shook his head and set his usual expressionless face back in place. No need to think of that right now.

Kento set his briefcase in the back seat before sliding into his car and starting it. Safer that way. You had a tendency to ‘chuck it’ into the back seat if it were in your way. The edges of his mouth curled into a smile. Anyone else and he would have been ticked about tossing an expensive laptop about like that but when you did it, it was cute. And even if it weren’t, the grin you give him after certainly was.

He barely managed to get the grin back under control by the time he was pulling up to your shop only to freeze as he parked. The glass door was shattered, the shop inside showing obvious signs of a struggle. 

Nanami felt like his blood was pumping through his body at several miles a minute then. On the outside, Kento was entirely calm as he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his car. Only those that knew him would notice the difference. The way his fists tightened, the set of his jaw, or the measured gait he adopted as he stepped through the broken entrance. 

His eyes scanned the scene and picked up the single scrawled note with ease. 

“Want her, come get her.”

The paper crumpled in his fist before he shifted his attention to tracing the energy. They would pay for making him work overtime.

****************************************************

Much as you would love to (continue to) tell these guys off, one of them had already stuffed a sock in your mouth and duct taped it there. That didn’t really stop you though as you continued to hurl insults through your gag.

“Geez. If this guy doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna kill the broad just to shut her up,” one of your captors grumbled. 

“Mmm mmnnnm mmm mm.” Your attempted snarl did little through your gag, and it wasn’t like you could fight back now. These jerks may be asses but they knew how to tie knots. Between the chafing on your upper arms and wrists, you had tested every way you could think of to get loose and were only too glad you had worn pants today instead of a skirt. 

YUJI ITADORI

Having adopted his mentor's distaste for meetings, Yuji trudged into the room with a heavy sigh. “Do we have to?” he whined.

You could just give up control and I could kill them all, Sukuna suggests amiably but Yuji ignores him.

Nobara slaps the back of his head. “You already know the answer to that. Sit down.”

Megumi barely managed not to smile before taking his seat. He blinked owlishly for a moment before the friendly wave confirmed his suspicion. “You’re here too?”

Yuta smiled. “Yeah. I’ll let them explain everything.”

“Must be pretty big if they called both of you here,” Yuji said with a grin as he looked between Yuta and Gojo. 

“You know it. Three first years are missing after being sent in and we’re going to go save them,” Gojo stated.

Sighs echo around the room. “Let’s begin the actual mission brief.” All eyes shifted to the screen. Typed out quickly was the message from Tengen. “Earlier this morning, three first year Jujutsu students, Eimo Makito, Rugi Kamisari, and y/n, were accompanied by two third years, Panda and Toge Inumaki, to subdue or suppress whatever was causing the disappearances over Lake Tazawa’s area. The reported incidents originally listed this as a Class 3 curse at best, but with our newest information, we believe there may be more than one special grade at work, making it appear lower to continue to deceive us. We can no longer rule it out.”

Yuji had stopped reading at your name and his eyes were glued to it until Megumi elbowed him lightly to draw his attention back to the meeting. 

You’re okay, right? This doesn’t mean you're dead. Just that….you’re missing.

“We currently do not know if any of the students are alive or not. The veil we placed has been encompassed by a stronger one and we have no way to get information in or out.”

“So we’re going in blind. My specialty,” Gojo stated with a grin.

Yuta chuckled beside him. “We can handle this-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji shouted and everyone stilled before Gojo’s chuckle released some of the tension in the room. 

“Plan to be a knight and go save your princess?”

“It’s not just about y/n,” Yuji stated, though his blushing ears decried otherwise. “Panda and Toge are there too. We have to save them if we can.”

“You know they might already be dead.” Gojo just wanted to make sure it was clear, that Yuji wasn’t holding out hope on this one.

“I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“Gre-at,” Megumi sighed and face palmed. “It's the detention center all over again.”

“Sorry, Itadori,” Yuta began. “But you can’t-”

“I’m coming too,” Yuji repeated. 

“Nuh-uh, kid,” Gojo said standing up. “I’ll let you come with us, but you are staying out side the barrier, you understand. You want to make sure everyone is safe, that’s fine. But you will keep yourself and Sukuna out of that barrier, clear?”

Despite the blindfold being on, Yuji could feel the blue eyes of his teacher boring into him. 

Finally he sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll wait outside the barrier. But,”

“No buts, or you're not going and I’ll leave you chained up here.”

Yuji’s silence to follow was taken for acquiescence. 

*****************************************************

You blink your eyes open to an unfamiliar sight. The barrier above you seems almost black and the shimmering in it makes you want to vomit after looking at it for a moment. Like staring at trees outside a moving car window. You roll and tuck your left arm up. You're able to move it but the bone in your forearm is definitely broken. 

Your eyes land on Panda as you sit up. “How’s he doing?” you whisper through the pain. 

Panda smiles sadly at you. “He’ll be fine. Just needs a bit to get his throat to stop bleeding.”

“I’m sorry, Toge.”

Toge shook his head and smiled sadly at you. “Bonito flakes.” It even sounded choked and you felt your eyes water. He must be in incredible pain. 

You three were lucky. Eimo and Rugi weren’t as fortunate. You had to come up with some kind of plan to get out of here, but if these two didn’t have anything how could you?

“Fuck!” you curse under your breath.

“Salmon.” 

That at least got you to smile and you can tell that was his intention. You would get out of this. Together.

Again a quick and sincere thank you to Miss Vry (@vrystalius) for helping me with tags :D

[minastras]

we fell apart when the sky was orange (and now every sunset reminds me of you) // beomgyu

Two long years after he broke your heart, Choi Beomgyu remains your first and only love. Unfortunately he’s now also your colleague, and you’re not sure if you ever really got over him.

at a glance: gender neutral reader, exes to lovers, office au, angst, fluff, ft. enhypen’s heeseung, itzy’s ryujin, and p1harmony’s keeho

words: 6.5k

warnings: swearing

notes: happy valentine's day!! i'm like an hour late but shh hope u enjoy <3

——————————

Your one-and-a-half year long relationship with Choi Beomgyu, the first serious relationship either of you had ever had, ended abruptly during a lovely evening in the East Coast Gardens. You’d gone there together with some of your friends for a picnic and to watch the sunset, celebrating finishing your second year of university.

At some point, you and Beomgyu left the rest of the group to take a walk along the beach. The sky was tinted that showstopping blend of pink and orange only seen at dawn and dusk, and he was holding your hand.

“We have to break up,” he blurted out, letting go.

When you two walked together, it was typical for neither of you to speak for long stretches of time. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected him to break the silence with, but it surely wasn’t that.

“What?”

“We have to break up,” he repeated, barely even looking you in the eye. His voice was flat, but his jaw was so tight he was slurring all of his words. “It’s, uh, it’s been real.”

The glow of the sunset, as breathtaking as it was, faded into the background for you. “It’s been real?” you echoed in disbelief, your mind still lagging ten paces behind your mouth. “Gyu, you can’t be serious. What happened?”

He took a step back from you. “Nothing happened. We just aren’t right for each other.”

“But- but we’re in love,” you protested, hating how childish you sounded. Maybe you were. Maybe it was your juvenile foolishness that had convinced you he meant it when he said ‘I love you too’, as if the ‘too’ tacked on at the end wasn’t a clear enough sign he just said it to agree with you.

You couldn’t remember what happened after that — what he’d said in response, if anything, whether you’d stormed off first or if he’d left you there in the sand, if you had cried. All you remembered was the heartwrenching drive home, shoved in the backseat next to a friend you’d long since lost touch with, periodically tipping your head back so your tears wouldn’t spill over.

——————————

Two years later, everything worked out in the end. You’d like to think so, at least, because you and your best friend Ryujin had just graduated from university at the top of your cohort. With your grades, you both easily secured jobs at the biggest accounting firm in the country as recruits in their prestigious Graduate Talent Programme. It was your first day on the job, and you were about to meet the other GTs.

“No way,” Ryujin muttered.

“What?” you asked, but as the question was leaving your mouth you saw what she was pointing at. Or, more accurately, who.

Beomgyu saw you at almost the exact same moment you did. He locked eyes with you too quickly for you to have pretended not to see him, so you stood rooted in place as he made his way over to you. The expression on his face was unreadable.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted. You couldn’t recall the last time you heard your name come out of his mouth. Even though the office was stuffed with people more important than you two, people you should’ve been introducing yourself to, you saw and heard and felt no one but him.

“Hi, Beomgyu,” you returned, his name heavy on your tongue.

He rocked back on the heels of his black dress shoes — so opposite to the sneakers he used to wear everyday back when you dated, the white ones you had given him for his birthday four years ago and he refused to replace despite them just about falling apart — and put his hands in his pockets.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. You sensed a degree of wariness creeping into his tone now. He looked exactly the same, barring his slightly shorter hair with his icy grey highlights taken out.

“Yeah, what are the odds?” you asked, making casual conversation as if you couldn’t hear that same wariness in your own words.

He wore a crisp white button down, starched impeccably into perfect plains that wrapped around his broad torso, a thin black tie, and black slacks. He’d clearly gotten better at tying ties. You remembered struggling through the How to Tie a Windsor Knot WikiHow article with him before one of his job interviews, both of you flailing around helplessly for nearly an hour before you succeeded.

He nodded to someone standing behind you, prompting you to turn around. “Nice you’ve got Ryujin with you. Heeseung got in too, if you remember him.”

You did. When you and Beomgyu were still together he often told you about Heeseung, an old friend from high school he gamed with online. You wondered what he had told Heeseung about your breakup.

Thankfully, someone else called for everyone’s attention right then, and you booked it to the other corner of the room.

“Good morning everyone! I’d like to introduce our brand new GTP recruits. GTs, if you would please come to the front.”

You and the four other GTs awkwardly shuffled forward, and you ended up standing right beside Beomgyu. The universe hated you; that was the only explanation. Ryujin was too busy stifling her laughter to feel sorry for you.

“Joining our auditing team are Shin Ryujin, Lee Heeseung, and Yoon Keeho. Joining our advisory team are Y/N and Choi Beomgyu. Please give them all a warm welcome!”

The rest of the office clapped politely while your world crumbled around you (fine, you were being hyperbolic). Of all the people on the planet you could’ve been paired with, it just had to be him.

He still smelt the same, wearing the same cologne he’d worn when you were together. The same cologne which clung to your bedsheets for weeks after you broke up.

You closed your eyes for a split second, looking down so no one would notice, and took a deep breath. Then, you raised your head again, turned to Beomgyu, and held out your hand.

“I look forward to working with you,” you said with a polite smile.

He raised an eyebrow but shook your hand anyway.

——————————

Your new team lead whisked you and Beomgyu around from office to office, throwing more information at you than any normal person would be able to process, giving you no room to breathe — let alone talk to the man who’d broken your heart two years ago and was apparently not over you, either.

Clearly, not talking to him didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him.

Perhaps he was thinking about you too, because you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye when he thought you were distracted. But your interactions with each other were limited to curt, perfunctory statements and uncomfortable glances.

After clock-off, your new colleague Keeho suggested all the GTs go out for drinks. He claimed it was so you’d get to know each other better, but it was clear he just wanted drama. You were at the bar ordering another mocktail when Beomgyu pulled out the barstool next to yours.

“Make that two, please,” he told the bartender, sitting down. Neither of you said a word. You snuck a glance at him to find him already looking at you, so you turned away and stared straight ahead.

Were you over him?

Truthfully, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t tell the difference between being hung up on an ex and grieving someone who’d been such a pivotal part of your life. Maybe it was the whole ‘you never really get over your first love’ thing other people talked about.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You winced, bracing yourself for awkwardness. “Hey.”

“So, uh, you look-” he hesitated, cutting himself off, “How’ve you been?”

“Good… good. You?” You were starting to regret ordering a non-alcoholic drink, because he was just as pretty as you remembered and it was doing your head in.

Ryujin always said you needed to date again, that you’d never move on unless you put yourself back out there. To your credit, you did try. But you ran all your attempts at dating into the ground with all the same flaws of yours that had ended things between you and Beomgyu two years ago.

“Good…” He paused again, and then straightened his back and put his hands on the bar counter, open and declarative. “Can we not do this? Can we just start over?” he asked.

“Start over?” you echoed.

“What happened between us happened so long ago. We don’t need to dredge all that back up again,” he said.

The bartender returned with your identical drinks and, before you could say anything, Beomgyu handed over his credit card. He waved away your surprised gratitude, raised his glass, and held the other one out to you.

Maybe to another person, someone who knew him less well than you did, he’d seem cool and confident. But you could see a tentativeness in his eyes, a slight shake that told you he was worried you wouldn’t respond well, that you wouldn’t take the olive branch in his hand.

You let out a small laugh, the group chat revelation from this morning still rattling about in your head, and tapped the rim of your glass against his.

“Sure, Gyu. Let’s start over.”

——————————

You and Ryujin spent the entire night and most of the next morning’s commute to the office debating what ‘start over’ meant. She thought it meant going back to the courtship stage (whatever that was), and you thought it meant erasing yours and Beomgyu’s history entirely and beginning anew. As strangers.

“But he isn’t over you!” she protested, drawing ire from the elderly couple sitting in front of you on the train.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you mumbled. “Nothing’s going to happen between us. We literally didn’t say a word to each other yesterday at work.”

Ryujin shook her head. “You’re wrong. There’s something there. I don’t know what, but there’s something.”

Nearly a whole week passed before you began to admit she was right, when even you could no longer bury your head in the sand and pretend you didn’t see it. You kept telling yourself you were content with carrying on your ostrich roleplay for as long as humanly possible, but it was starting to grate on you.

Every year, the GTP recruits were expected to put together a proposal paper and presentation on what they felt the company could improve. The deadline was in two months — how were any of you supposed to be familiar enough with the company by then to make policy recommendations?

“Our team lead keeps saying the company needs ‘fresh eyes’,” Keeho said during your first meeting for the project a week later, already careening off topic. “She stares right into my soul whenever she says ‘fresh eyes’. It’s fucking creepy.”

“It is creepy,” Heeseung agreed, twirling his pen between his fingers.

“Do we all have our notes ready?” Ryujin asked, wrangling the meeting back on track.

Beomgyu helpfully gathered up each of your notes and passed the stack over to you. You were friendly now after that night at the bar, but there was so much tension between you two that even your team lead pointed it out.

“You’re in charge of this, right?” Beomgyu asked. You had volunteered to do the boring work of collating all of your ideas and suggestions into a draft skeleton outline for the proposal paper.

“I’ll help you,” Keeho offered, smiling at you from across the table. “I’m happy to do the auditing parts.”

Beomgyu folded his arms and leant back in his chair. “They can manage.”

You had to stop going giddy every time you saw him in a shirt and tie.

“Actually, help would be useful,” you said to Keeho, ignoring Beomgyu not because you were annoyed, but because you didn’t know what to make of his interjection. Unbeknownst to you, Beomgyu scowled.

——————————

You and Keeho had arranged to work on the report after lunch that day. Beomgyu wasn’t keeping tabs on you or anything, he just made sure to remind you that you had a 3pm advisory meeting with him the same afternoon. Yes, that was the only reason he cared about what you did with your time.

And the only reason he was hovering around by Keeho’s office cubicle was to make sure you weren’t late for the meeting. Not because you were there. Not because you were with Keeho. Not because you and Keeho kept laughing and playfully pushing each other. What could possibly be that funny, anyway?

“Can I help you?” Keeho asked Beomgyu, finally noticing his presence.

Beomgyu ignored him and looked straight at you, tapping his watch. “Let’s go. It’s 2.50.”

“Ah, already?” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, gathering your things up from Keeho’s desk. “Sorry, Keeho. I’ll finish it tonight.”

Keeho smirked as his gaze shifted from you to Beomgyu and then back to you, before he let out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You scrambled to your feet to follow Beomgyu to the lift lobby.

The meeting room was just three floors above you, and as soon as Beomgyu led you into the lifts he braced for you to ask him why he was in such a rush. It only took a minute to get there. But you didn’t; maybe you would have a couple of years ago.

——————————

Beomgyu waited until you and him were alone in the office — an hour or so after the end of the work day — when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“There’s so much weird sexual tension between you and Keeho,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual. To both his amazement and relief, you didn’t seem to notice.

Your lips twitched, like you were about to reveal something but quickly decided against it. Beomgyu remembered when he was able to read you like an open book, but those days were now long gone and he couldn’t tell what you were thinking anymore.

“He’s hot. And tall. And he seems nice,” Beomgyu continued, unsure what he was trying to accomplish.

“I don’t really date anymore,” you blurted out, seeming to regret saying that almost immediately.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, now regaining your composure. “I… I don’t think I’d be a good partner. For anyone.”

It was Beomgyu’s turn to falter. He watched you carefully as the realisation started to sink in. The walls of the now quiet office felt like they were closing in on him. You’d blamed yourself for the breakup. He’d made you think you were too broken for love.

“Oh, god, did I do that to you?” he asked, so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

“…It was a long time ago,” you replied after what seemed like forever, a non-answer if ever there was one, glancing up from the desk and flashing him a tight-lipped smile. It didn’t even get anywhere near your eyes. “We don’t have to get into it. I’m sorry I brought it up. Like you said, we should just start over.”

He swallowed his pride and shook his head firmly. “No, I was wrong. We should talk about it. I don’t want to leave things unsaid.”

The version of him that had broken up with you would never have said that. That version of him refused to even admit when he had a headache. That version of him dumped you because he couldn’t handle you ‘always needing to talk about feelings.’ It was hard for him to stomach that fact, even all these years later.

“I don’t know- I had so many issues and I expected you to be my answer to all of them. I just figured that if even a guy like you couldn’t stand me, I was beyond redemption,” you shrugged.

Once, during a particularly hectic exam season back in university, you had completely shut yourself off from him, all your friends, even Ryujin. You didn’t talk to anyone for a week. You didn’t leave your room. You didn’t answer any of his texts or calls. He knew your parents were fighting and your rent had gone up past what you could afford and you were struggling to pass your classes. There was nothing more he wanted than to drive over to your place and hold you, to tell you everything was going to be fine, but you refused to let him.

“Do you still think that?” he asked, his throat feeling exceptionally tight.

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” you admitted.

Even back then he knew why you refused, although he wasn’t ready to admit it at the time. Whenever you did try to open up to him he would shut down, so eventually you stopped trying.

Your phone alarm went off before he could think of a response, a generic default ringtone. It used to be a recording of him quacking like a duck, because for some reason you found that hilarious and he liked doing it to cheer you up.

“I should go. My train’s coming,” you told him.

He blinked, blindsided. “Oh- okay.”

You packed your bag and stood up, walking to the lift lobby and pressing the button. Then, in a fraction of a second, you dropped the facade.

“Don’t take what I said too seriously, Gyu,” you assured him. “I’m alright now. I’m in a good place.”

He stared at your eyes, trying to decipher them, but you seemed to be telling the truth. After a second or two, he pulled his shoulders back and nodded. There was still a weight on his chest.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiled.

The lift doors behind you opened, and you smiled back. The weight lifted.

“See you tomorrow, Gyu.”

——————————

——————————

The GTs were meeting before the work day officially started to discuss the progress you and Keeho had made yesterday. You and Ryujin got on the train an hour earlier than usual.

“Are you gonna say yes?” she asked, after you told her Keeho had asked you out on a date yesterday. She had a slice of buttered toast in her mouth in flagrant disregard of the ‘no eating’ sign right behind her.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, dragging out your last word like a whiny child. You only acted like this in front of Ryujin. “I should, right? He’s nice.”

“I don’t think you should date people on the basis of niceness. I think you should date them based on whether you actually like them,” she said, never being one to sugarcoat the truth for you, before her eyes widened in realisation. “Don’t tell me it’s because of Beomgyu.”

“It’s not,” you said, and she gave you a knowing look. “Well, it’s not not. What if I’m broken?”

Your conversation with Beomgyu hadn’t left your head since yesterday. You were still bewildered that he’d insisted on talking to you about your breakup; it was so unlike him. Or at least the version of him you remembered.

“I don’t understand how you can take him breaking up with you the way he did as an indictment on you and not him,” Ryujin said. “He always acted like you were some big emotional burden when most of the time you were just a bit sad and needed a hug. And he couldn’t even handle that.”

——————————

Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Keeho were all already in the meeting room when you and Ryujin showed up, even though you were five minutes early yourselves.

“Keeho brought doughnuts,” Heeseung announced instead of saying ‘good morning’, pointing to the box on the table. Ryujin grinned and skipped over to the box to grab one.

“Y/N, do you want Oreo or cinnamon?” Keeho asked, checking to see which flavours were left.

Beomgyu looked up from his phone and said nonchalantly, “Y/N doesn’t like eating in the morning.” The statement was addressed to Keeho, but he looked right at you as he said it.

You stared back at him. He remembered, but of course he did, because you used to watch him eat breakfast while only nursing a giant thermos of coffee every morning. He always nagged you about not skipping ‘the most important meal of the day’, and you always insisted that that was a myth. (For the record, you were right.)

“Uh- yeah. I’m good, thanks,” you stammered after far too long a pause.

Keeho cocked an eyebrow, looking between you and Beomgyu like he had yesterday with a slight smile on his face, before taking the last cinnamon doughnut for himself.

Five minutes before nine, you wrapped up your meeting. Beomgyu and Keeho offered to stay and reset the meeting room while the rest of you hurried to your desks, until you realised you’d left your phone behind and circled back to get it. Right as you reached for the door handle, you heard something that made you freeze.

“Y/N told me you asked them out.” Beomgyu’s voice was barely muffled by the closed door.

Peeking through the tiny window of the door, you saw Keeho shrug. “I did. But I’m not holding my breath.”

“Why? They think you’re hot,” Beomgyu said.

You were so going to kill him. That little-

Keeho laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m doomed by the narrative.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Beomgyu asked. That was the man you recognised, defensive and immediately assuming intent to offend. You heard them walking towards the door and scrambled to hide behind the wall around the corner, holding your breath.

“Relax, man,” Keeho chuckled, opening the door. The two men walked right past you, not noticing you. “I’m just saying you should go for it.”

Beomgyu frowned. “What?”

“Yeah. No regrets, right?”

——————————

——————————

Beomgyu was acting differently with you now. He was smiling more, joking around more. You were trying not to think about it too much — you didn’t know what it meant, and, more worryingly, you didn’t know what you wanted it to mean.

You two stayed late one Friday night to work on a presentation deck, being the only people left in the office by 8pm. You ordered kimbap and fried chicken and ate dinner together at his cubicle, balancing paper plates on your knees while he typed and you peered over his shoulder.

“This feels familiar,” Beomgyu mused, turning around to look at you. You must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights to him, because you instantly forgot whatever you were about to say when he smiled at you.

In university you had spent many a night in his apartment sitting beside him at his desk, watching him game with Heeseung (whom you only knew at that point as a disembodied voice that lived in Beomgyu’s headset). You were usually snacking on something and you’d feed him whatever it was while he was playing.

“So, did you say yes to Keeho?” Beomgyu asked, sounding flippant, but you could tell he’d been waiting for the right time to ask you that for a while.

“No, he- that’s weird,” you frowned, after you pushed the ground floor button and it failed to light up. Then, the entire lift rattled. “That’s weirder.”

He reached over your shoulder to push the button again, his hair brushing against the back of your neck. Once more, it didn’t light up. But you were worrying about other things, namely how broad his button up made his shoulders look and how good he smelt.

“Answer my question,” he pressed, all while repeatedly poking the button like an impatient toddler.

You would’ve laughed, if not for how close he was standing to you making it impossible for you to think straight. “We decided against it- are we actually stuck in here?”

It was silent for a few seconds as you looked at each other, confused. And then he began to panic.

“No, we can’t be,” he insisted, jabbing his finger at the lift button over and over so hard you thought he’d break his knuckle. His eyes were wide and his breathing was shallow and fast.

“Gyu-”

He cut you off with a loud wail and slapped his hands onto his head, throwing his back against the wall behind him and sliding down it dramatically. You bit back a laugh, the feeling of his body right by yours a second ago now a distant memory.

“We’re trapped! We’re gonna die!” he shrieked, his voice amplified by the tightness of the space you were in. The lift rattled once more.

You stifled a laugh. “Dude, chill.”

It had been nearly four years since your first date, but you still remembered it vividly. He’d brought you to a night carnival, and one of the first attractions on the itinerary was the haunted house. He confessed to you months after you started dating that it was all part of his grand plan to make you fall in love with him: that you would get scared and cling onto his bicep and he’d heroically protect you.

The actual experience went like this. You and him made it about a fifth of the way through the haunted house — with you taking the lead and him screaming bloody murder the entire time — before he tapped out and you turned back. Upon shamefully emerging from the haunted house’s entrance like a couple of quitter chickens, he sank to the floor with his head in his hands, exactly as he was right now. Of course now he was in a button up, tie, slacks, and dress shoes rather than a university sweatshirt and jeans, but the pose was nearly identical.

“I’m too young to die! But I’m too old to get on the news for dying young!” he babbled. Maybe he was delirious from the stress of the job. Ignoring the meltdown unfolding by your feet, you dialled the emergency number above the lift door and gave the man on the other end of the line your lift’s reference number.

“The maintenance guy will be here in a few minutes,” you relayed, hanging up the phone.

He took his head out of his hands and stopped screaming. “Oh. I might have overreacted.”

You laughed, joining him on the floor on the opposite side of the lift. “You think?”

It was silent for a while, save for a few odd creaks from the lift here and there. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and they looked about a billion miles long. You couldn’t really look at him too much without your heart feeling weird.

“Hey,” he started, kicking your shoe to get your attention. “What happened with Keeho?”

He was still on that.

“Nothing. We decided it wasn’t a good idea,” you answered, pausing for a moment to mull over whether you should admit to the conversation you had eavesdropped on last week. You choose to keep your mouth shut.

Beomgyu stayed silent for so long that you got over your refusal to make eye contact and looked up to see if something was wrong. He was frowning. The lift was so small and quiet you swore you could hear your own heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know? Us. How we ended,” he said, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “I was always shutting you down when you needed to be comforted. I even said you had too many issues.”

You winced at his last sentence, words that still stung nearly three years after he’d first uttered them to you. He must have seen it on your face, because he closed his eyes and looked away.

“Maybe we both met the right person at the wrong time,” you offered, trailing off as he silently got up from his spot opposite you and sat down next to you instead. If he moved even a millimetre closer, his shoulder would’ve touched yours. You held your breath and turned to him, your face so close to his that you could count his eyelashes.

“Yeah, maybe.” He held your gaze, unwavering.

The lift rattled even louder this time, but although you jumped he didn’t even flinch. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips. You used to rest your head on his shoulder when you two sat next to each other like this, whether it was on his sofa or at a restaurant. It was your ‘thing’.

He leaned in, and you found yourself drawn towards him. There was something magnetic about him that seemed to pull you forward, a compulsion of sorts. He used to taste like the pomegranate lip balm you kept in your pocket that he constantly nicked because he was too lazy to buy his own. You wondered if he’d bought one for himself after you split up. His nose brushed against yours and your eyes fluttered shut.

BANG!

You jumped apart, exchanging alarmed glances at the deafening metallic clang of the lift door.

“Maintenance! You guys okay in there?”

Beomgyu recovered from the shock before you did and sputtered out an, “All good!” But he was looking only at you. Beside him you were frozen, certain you could still feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

“Stand back from the doors!” the maintenance man continued.

You scrambled to your feet first, straightening your jacket and grabbing your bag. Your face felt like it was on fire. After (in your estimation) about a billion hours, the lift doors finally parted to reveal a beaming maintenance man.

“Thank you so much, sir. Have a good night,” you rushed out, mumbling a goodbye to Beomgyu without turning to look at him. He didn’t get a chance to return the pleasantry before you were gone.

——————————

——————————

Neither of you spoke of the lift incident after that night. You acted like nothing had ever happened, and Beomgyu seemed more than happy to go along with your charade.

Your team lead had invited you both to tag along to a meeting with another company’s headquarters; neither of you had any direct involvement in the project, but he’d asked you to prepare a short presentation on your suggestions for the project anyway. It would be a good experience for you, hence why you agreed to it, but now you were starting to question your judgement.

“Are you nervous?” Beomgyu asked you under his breath as you walked down the corridor side by side to the conference room.

“Is it obvious?” you asked. Your thumb drive loaded with presentation slides was burning a hole in your pocket. Your palms were sweating, but you didn’t want to say that out loud. He’d just start rapping Eminem’s Lose Yourself at you and ruin your focus.

Truth be told, you didn’t really know why he was here — he wasn’t giving a presentation and had nothing to do with the project.

“It’s obvious to me,” he answered.

If you read into that even a little, you inferred he meant that he knew you better than other people did, that he saw more of you than they did. If you read into your own relief when he told you this morning he was coming for the meeting, you inferred having him with you made you feel more secure.

You needed to stop reading into things.

But how could you, when he checked where the air conditioning vents in the meeting room were the second he walked in so he could get you both seats far away from them, knowing you got cold easily? And how could you, when he swapped your chair with his own on instinct to give you the one without any broken wheels?

After the meeting ended, you took the train back home with him. It was a two hour ride.

“You did great,” he praised, leading the way to an empty train carriage. As he walked, he slipped his fingers under his navy blue tie, loosening the knot and popping open the top button of his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Thanks.” You sat down in the window seat, and he took the one beside you. His shoulder touched yours. Were train seats always this narrow?

There was a part of you that wished Ryujin were here to knock some sense into you and/or crush your delusions before they became too well fleshed out, but she was starting to warm to Beomgyu more and more these days. She was even encouraging you to talk to him. Ryujin? Encouraging you to talk to Beomgyu? Maybe you’d fallen into the matrix.

——————————

“I’m on my way home. How was work?”

You hadn’t dreamt about Beomgyu in a long time, but your dreamscape’s recreation of his voice still remained accurate. Warm and melodic, with a smooth lilt that made anything he said sound poetic.

“It was alright. Are you with Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice. Hm. Dreaming about Heeseung was weird, but not entirely out of the question. You’d gotten to know him pretty well-

“Shh, man. They’re sleeping right beside me.”

At that, you finally woke up. Your head was resting on Beomgyu’s shoulder instead of the window pane, somehow having found its way to him while you were asleep. Perhaps he’d shifted you there himself, like he used to do whenever you dozed off on the wall of yours and his favourite study booth in the back of the university library.

He didn’t notice you were awake. You kept your eyes shut and remained perfectly still.

“Have you guys talked?” Heeseung asked on the other end of the phone.

“No. What am I supposed to say? Sorry I almost kissed you, I think I’m still in love with you?” Beomgyu said quietly.

“Yeah. Literally.”

“I can’t do that, man.”

“Why not? The universe gave you a second chance. No regrets, right?”

Beomgyu was silent for a few seconds.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”

He hung up without giving Heeseung a chance to reply, and you felt him shifting around as he slipped his phone into his pocket.

Still. Not that he fell in love with you again, but that he never stopped. He was still in love with you.

His hair brushed the side of your face when he turned to you and called your name softly.

“Y/N, wake up.”

You’d never been a particularly good actor, but you pretended to wake up as best as you could and hoped he didn’t see through you.

“Look,” he said quietly, even though there was no one else around, pointing out the window.

The sun was just beginning to set, glowing a brilliant warm orange and glazing the clouds around it in red and yellow. Pink streaks spanned across the sky and through the window into the train carriage.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

When you turned back around, Beomgyu was watching you instead of the sunset. He looked away immediately, clearing his throat and shifting around in his seat. You wondered if he was thinking of the same thing you were.

“Sorry I woke you. I didn’t want you to miss the sunset,” he mumbled. His hands sat folded awkwardly in his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Still. Still?

You could count on one hand the number of times in your life you’d been well and truly speechless; this was one of them.

He seemed to mistake your silence for something else — you didn’t know what — because he turned away and dropped his gaze apologetically.

“Hey, about the other day,” he said, trailing off, “I’m sorry I made things weird.”

You weren’t going to lose him again. You’d had enough heartbreak.

“You didn’t,” you rushed out, placing your hand over his. The movement was sudden and uncoordinated, an impulsive lunge forward rather than a measured and gentle reach. “I wish I hadn’t run away like that.”

Beomgyu’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in shock. You didn’t know if your words or your actions had caused that.

“Really?” His voice was all breath and no depth.

The melting light of the sunset behind you poured into the train carriage through the window, lying across his face in ribbons of gold that made his skin glow. The hue was almost indescribable, the type of colour only found during sunsets, and the colour you associated only with Choi Beomgyu.

His fingers curled up to lace themselves with yours, and you felt a coldness on your skin that gave you a jolt. It was a ring. Plain, thin, silver.

You bought him matching rings for your six month anniversary, thick patterned silver ones with intricate carvings and twisted rope trimmings. They were cheap costume jewellery — you lost your job around then and that was all you could afford — and they stained your fingers green after a few days.

You gave up and wore your ring on a chain around your neck instead, but he wore his on his index finger every day, all the way to the end. You used to call him 1% Shrek.

He squeezed your hand.

Now or never.

“I don’t want to… I don’t think I can pretend I’m not in love with you anymore,” you admitted, your heart battering against your rib cage like it was trying to burst out of your chest.

Beomgyu’s grip on your hand tightened. “Me neither,” he whispered.

You looked at him, at the softness in his brown eyes and the gentle slope of his nose. He had made all the first moves in the past. He asked you out on the first date, he initiated your first kiss, he introduced you to his friends and family first. You were done with waiting for him to lead the way.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

All his nerves appeared to melt away. He grinned cockily, the exact same grin he donned right before he was about to do something annoying.

“Kissing on public transport is so passé,” he said with a dramatic sigh, even though you were the only people on the train. “We aren’t horny students anymore, we’re grown adults with serious jobs-”

“There’s a juice box sticking out of your bag,” you pointed out, suppressing a laugh.

He moved towards you, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. Like your muscles had held onto the memory of his touch all these years, you leant into the familiar warmth of his palm.

“You make a compelling argument,” he muttered, before bringing his lips to yours.

Peppermint. He used peppermint lip balm now.

When was the last time you’d kissed? You couldn’t remember. But you remembered how it felt — the way his lips slotted perfectly between yours, his curve of his hand on your face, the angle of his shoulder exactly where you always held onto him.

When you separated, he pressed a final quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. That was his trademark; he never kissed you without doing that.

“I can’t believe you came back to me,” he said. The diffuse amber of the sunset glazed over his face, making his eyes sparkle. Something about the way he looked at you slowed your heart rate, made you feel sedated.

You ran your thumb over the ring on his index finger, now warmed from the heat of your locked hands.

“Always.”

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson × AHS Asylum) Part I

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. When he can't convince people that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is committed to a mental hospital. But the only way out is to prove to the psychiatrist that he is not crazy. If he cannot convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. And he must hurry to do so because Vecna has come to finish the job he left unfinished. As Eddie fights for his life, what is the most his psychiatrist can do to save him when she learns he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because Eddie is innocent, but because the two of them have developed feelings for each other over time.

Warnings: It's inspired by the horror series American Horror Story, so it has a lot of horror elements. Mention of blood, hospital, electric chair, execution, injury, sex, nudity, (+18 please, MDNI) extremely depressive thoughts, depression, drugs, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and attempts, violence, smut, claustrophobic, dark moods. (please tell me if I have forgotten anything.) please DO NOT READ if at least one of these is a trigger for you.

1989, Eddie Munson's Perspective.

The police officer punched me once more in the face. I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth. My eyes were so swollen that I could only squint. The police officer took a handkerchief out of his pocket and started walking around the room. He wiped the blood off his hands in disgust. But it was my blood, not his.

"Do you hear that sound, Munson?" he said through clenched teeth. Then he continued, "That's the voice of the Hawkins people who would destroy you in two minutes if I gave you to them. They want justice. We will give them the justice they want.''

I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth again. "I didn't do anything," I said, barely breathing. He walked quickly towards me and kicked the chair I was sitting on. I groaned in pain as I hit the floor, the sound of the iron chair hitting the floor echoed around the room, like a banshee screaming. My hands and feet were handcuffed. That's why I couldn't move, the police officer was already kicking me from where I was lying. I heard the door creak open and a familiar voice came running towards us.

Hopper: "Stop it! For God's sake stop! What are you gonna do?! Are you going to kill him?! He's just a child!''

The police officer who stopped kicking me spat on me. He was pointing at me. "He's not a child. He's the devil himself.''

Hopper grabbed the police officer by the collar and threw him out. Then he helped me up off the floor. When he uncuffed me, I looked at my wrists, bruised. I could no longer figure out where it hurt the most.

I could hear chants and shouts from outside, "Die, Munson! You murderer! Give us the murderer! His punishment should be execution!"

Hopper: We're getting you out of here. In an hour.

I didn't look up. "Who reported me? Who told them where I was? God, how can they find me after all these years?''

Hopper shook his head in a negative way. "I don't know. This is beyond Hawkins now. The FBI is on the case. You're all over the national news. Newspaper stories are being printed about you from all over the world. There's a caravan of reporters and news stations outside the front door. You're going on trial for killing four people and putting one in a coma.''

I said loudly, "Four?! Jesus Christ! Vecna only killed three people and put Max in a coma. Who's the fourth?''

Hopper didn't seem to know what to do. He was as bewildered as I was. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Jason. They say it was you who killed him.''

I punched the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the deaths in this town are blamed on me?''

Hopper: They're looking for someone to pin it on so they can get rid of the backlog of cases they can't explain. There's no one to defend you right now. The lawyers are dropping the case. And that suits these filthy pigs.

I asked the question that had been on my mind all along, afraid of his response. "So what's going to happen to me now?

Hopper looked at the clock on his wrist and headed for the door. When he opened it, I was relieved to see it was Dustin, Steve, and Robin. For a second I thought it was that asshole again. My bones ached when Dustin ran up and hugged me. I probably had more than one fracture.

Dustin: Dude… They're sending you away. They're sending you to Bloomfield.

Eddie: Bloomfield? What, I'm going to Michigan? Do you guys know how far that is?!

Steve sat down at the table in front of me.

Steve: If you stay here, they'll kill you. Prosecutor Robert wants to execute you on this case and become a national hero. That's why he won't let the crowd kill you. You're going to a safe place.

I laughed sarcastically. "When I get to the prison there, they're going to put me in the electric chair and make me Eddie double cheese toast anyway.''

Robin smiled nervously, biting her lips. I knew that smile.

Robin: Yeah, about that… You're not going to prison.

I raised one eyebrow and looked at her to continue, but it was Steve who spoke.

Steve: You're going to a mental hospital, man. You're going to Chassell mental hospital.

I grabbed my face with both hands, i was laughing hysterically.

Hopper: We somehow convinced them that you committed these murders, but that you were mentally unstable. We told them that you kept saying it was some creature you made up in your head.

Eddie: Well, that's already true!

Hopper: Of course it's true, you shithead, but they don't know that, and when they do, that's what they'll tell you! We're saving your life! If they are not convinced you are crazy, they will execute you.

Again I asked a question I was afraid of the response, "What if they are convinced I'm crazy? Then what happens next?''

Everyone looked at each other.

Hopper: This time there will be a discussion about you staying there for life. They will appoint a highly skilled and experienced doctor to determine that. Don't make a mistake. Prove to the court that you are crazy. After the court receives the psychiatrist's report and orders you to stay in the hospital for life, we will come to get you. We will also find the asshole who reported you.

There was silence for a while.

Eddie: What about Vecna?

Robin: Nothing's happened in three years. I don't think it will happen after this time, but if it does, we'll be prepared.

Steve took something out of his pocket. It was a walkman. I took the tape out and looked at it and I saw the name Eddie Mix on it. Steve explained it before I asked.

Steve: I put your favorite metal songs on it, you know you might need it. You should guard this better than your life and keep it safe. Your life may depend on it. So if he comes hunting you…

Silence again. When I stood up, everyone straightened up.

Eddie: Okay, one last question. How do I pretend to be crazy when I'm not?

Hopper shrugged. I felt like I had just asked the easiest question in the world and I didn't even know it.

Hopper: Just tell them the truth. No need to lie.

I nodded my head in agreement. I handed my hands to Hopper to cuff them. That's what the people wanted. They wanted to see the murderer caught.

The camera flashes...

Chains wrapped around my feet...

The people booing and throwing things...

I got into the police car amid curses I didn't know which one to listen to. A long journey awaited me. I never thought that one day I would leave this town where I was born and raised like this. But one day I would come back here, exonerated, they would come to get me. I knew it.

I walked through the door of the hospital, whose gloomy atmosphere could be seen for miles around. The hospital was old and decrepit, with peeling paint and flickering fluorescent lights that cast an eerie glow on everything. The air smelled of antiseptic and decay, like something had died there a long time ago but never been properly disposed of. And in the distance, I could hear faint whispers and moans from the patients who were trapped inside.

It smelled disgusting inside. It was black and white, maybe gray. It was as if they were living in a movie from the fifties. There was no sign of life in their eyes, if there was a smell of despair, it would smell like this place. I wondered what to do in such a dull and boring place.

The people in blue clothes were patients. I could tell right away. The ones in white were nurses and the ones in white coats were doctors. I had been to enough churches to know that those in black were nuns. Of course, that was a long time ago. And then there were the guards. I noticed that they all had tasers in their pockets. None of them carried real guns.

The big hall was a vast, cavernous space with high ceilings and also peeling wallpaper. There were rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, like something out of an old-fashioned movie theater. And in the center of the room stood a massive statue of some long-dead saint or martyr, its face twisted into an expression of agony.

A male nurse was accompanying me as I walked towards the guards. Since I was the only one dressed differently, even the patients noticed me. One of them pointed a pointing finger at me and laughed. You turn around and laugh at yourself, you jerk.

For a moment it occurred to me that if I stayed here I might actually go crazy. I turned to the nurse next to me.

Eddie. Eddie: Where are we going?

The corridors… well, they were narrow and dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights that cast strange shadows on the walls. I could hear footsteps echoing down them at odd hours - sometimes from other patients shuffling along in their slippers, but other times from things that didn't quite seem human.

Nurse: To get you a ward to sleep in and to get your patient clothes.

I laughed like I was teasing.

Eddie: Will I have a roommate?

The nurse gave a laugh that made it clear he was mocking me.

Nurse: Satan-worshipping assholes like you should be left alone.

As I walked through the dirty and narrow corridors, I wondered which doctor was my doctor. Meanwhile, the nurse continued to complain.

Nurse: I don't understand why they put you in ward A. You assholes belong in C ward.

I hadn't lost my cynical smile. "They must love me very much. They didn't want me to die.''

There were guards bringing a stretcher from across the hall. A white sheet was draped over the person lying on the stretcher. They carried the dying patient past me, emotionless and sullen.

The smile on my face was gone and the nurse was enjoying it.

Nurse: See, Munson? This is your only way out of here once you're in here.

We went into a big laundry room and there were big baskets of the same color blue clothes. Blue dresses for women and blue suits for men. They looked like pajamas. An orderly woman was sitting in front of the door, chewing gum and flipping through magazines.

I noticed that it hadn't stopped raining since the moment I arrived here. All the windows were barred. I wasn't supposed to be in jail, for fuck's sake.

The male nurse left me there. I went over to the person at the door.

Eddie: I was wondering if I could get a L size, I'd like to wear a little looser.

She didn't even look up. "Do you want a personal chauffeur or a cook? Go and get one of those clean ones over there that fits you. Don't bother me.''

I rolled my eyes.

Eddie: Is there a bag or a closet or something I can put my stuff in?

The woman looked at me and lowered her pointy secretary glasses down to the tip of her nose.

"You think this is a hotel, son? The only thing you take with you when you come in here is your body. We even take the wedding rings of the married people who stay here. Because even with that, they somehow find a way to commit suicide or kill someone else.''

I frowned, "How is this allowed? Don't the police do anything?"

The woman thought I was joking and laughed, but when she realized I was serious, she nodded carelessly.

"Most of the people who sleep here have no family or acquaintances. No one comes after them. We are happy to have another empty bed because there are too many patients and too few employees. Now a new psychiatrist will come for you. As if it wasn't enough that we took you."

She was waving a pen in my direction.

I put on the blue hospital gown and put my hair up.

The cell was small and cramped, a musty smell that made my nose wrinkle. There was a single metal bed frame in one corner of the room, with a thin mattress covered in stains and tears. A rusted toilet sat against one wall, barely functional and caked with grime. And next to it was a sink - more like a metal basin than an actual sink - where patients could wash their hands if they were lucky enough to have access to water.

The whole place felt suffocatingly claustrophobic, like there wasn't enough air to breathe properly. And when i looked closely at the walls or floorboards, i could see faint scratches or gouges from previous patients who had tried desperately to escape.

I lay down on the bed and looked out of the window with the bars. Then I stood up quickly. I made a few laps around the room, which was already three steps long. They had taken everything. They had taken my walkman too.

I heard the guard shouting from outside.

"It's almost nine o'clock! Lights out soon!''

anyone who wants a tag list for part 2 please let me know 🩶

my first language is not English so I apologize if I made any translation mistakes, please share with me my mistakes and your thoughts about the fic, I would be very happy. 🫶🏻

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter four

close to home | chapter four

plot: Daryl and the reader get to know each other in the gray hours of the morning, and he needs to decide whether or not she's a good person and someone he can trust around his family.

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,530 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

The rain had dulled into a softer downpour, and the thunder echoed in the distance. Still, you decided to fill every possible container with rainwater. You insisted it would be less work cause it wouldn’t have to be boiled. 

Daryl couldn’t exactly get a read on you. Anyone out here alone couldn’t be in the best mindset, and if you were telling the truth and you had been out by yourself since nearly the beginning, well, he couldn’t imagine the toll it had on someone. This world was hard enough without having to go at it alone. 

Despite that, you seemed decent enough. He didn’t believe you to be a threat, at least not while he was awake. And he couldn’t figure out why you didn’t shoot him back in the woods when he pulled the crossbow on you. He believed any sane person would’ve. But then again, he didn’t let the arrow fly either. 

The treehouse seemed okay enough, and he didn’t miss the stockpile of ammo in the room. You had quite a collection of ammo. You were just missing something to shoot it with. You had plenty of knives, though. Enough to gut someone ten times over. But you didn’t have one on you. You’d set it down. Did you trust him? Did you not care if you lived or died?

Waves of frustration rippled off him; the thunderstorm and walkers had ruined what was supposed to be a simple run. And hell, Rick wasn’t even supposed to have joined them. Not with Lori due in a few days, and the group barely has control over their cell block. They barely had enough food to keep them going, which was the only reason why they were out there in the first place. The food they got from the prisoners wouldn’t last them long, and they needed real meat. 

He looked up and glanced at where you were sitting. You’d moved over to the window and pulled back the makeshift curtain, the breeze flowing in. Each time the distant lightning cracked, he could make out the features of your face since you’d moved away from the fire. 

“You said you went to medical school?” Daryl asked you. 

It took a moment before you realized he’d even asked a question. “I did. I was about to start my residency. Why?”

He hesitated for a moment. “You know anything about delivering babies?”

This captured your full attention, and you looked away, “Why? You due soon?”

Daryl didn’t sense the sarcasm in your tone, “Ain’t for me. Got a friend. Due in a couple days.” 

You shook your head, “I don’t know much. Besides, you said you wouldn’t tell me about your group.”

Daryl snorted but didn’t say anything as he leaned back against the wall. Bringing her back, someone with medical training, that would be big. Hershel wouldn’t be alone, and you might know more about humans. Still, it’d be a risk. He didn’t know if it was worth perusing. They’d been okay with just Hershel…

“I have a group,” Daryl said, “There’s eleven of us. This is how this works. You tell me your story. Tell me who you are and what you’ve done. Maybe if everything’s good… maybe I bring you back with me.” 

You continued looking out the window, and Daryl started to think you hadn’t heard him cause the silence stretched so long. But finally, you turned to look at him, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you bring me back with you? You don’t know me….”

“You coulda shot me in the head, coulda left me to die in the woods. I mighta survived, I mighta. But you helped me. Even now, you sit with no weapons. You ain’t even lookin’ at me. I don’ think ya dangerous.” 

You smiled sadly, “No, I’m not dangerous.” 

“I tell ya what. You tell me what I wanna know. We pack this place up and go when the storm clears.” 

“You just want my supplies and medical help with that baby,”

Daryl shrugged, “Maybe. But ain’t that the way the world works now.”

Again, you were silent and you looked out the window for a few minutes. Finally, you took a deep breath and looked at him. “How about this. We tell each other what we both wanna know, and I decide if I wanna trust you.” 

Daryl nodded slowly, “Aight, that’s fair.”

***

The wall was cold against your skin, and the rainwater splashes made you shiver even more. The fire was dying, and the treehouse was growing darker. You slowly moved from your spot and put more logs on the fire. Then you went to grab an old can of peaches and gave Daryl another can of food too. 

“I was up in Atlanta when everything happened. Liam was one of those survivalists, always thinking about the end of the world. He wasn’t crazy about it. I mean, hell, he was right. But he knew things, and he knew how to take care of himself. So when the world went to shit, we got the hell out of Atlanta. He said that if there’s a cure, he will wait it out,

“So we took off, headed down south. His parents lived around here. They didn’t make it. But this treehouse was his. He and his dad built it years ago. It used to have stairs, but we knocked them down when a dead one got up on the porch. We fixed this place up together. I’ve been here since.” 

“Winter musta sucked,”

You laughed and nodded while taking another bite of your food. “It did. There’s no insulation. I got snowed in a few times. But Tora and I… we managed. It’s been just us since October, I think. I don’t know,”  You shook your head, “I had some family down here too, but I checked their place out, burnt down and overrun, just like every other shithole.”

“And before? Before all this?”

“Why does it even matter? I was just a normal person. I was in school, engaged, and living the dream in Atlanta. It doesn’t matter.”

Daryl nodded, “It’s easy to think that way,”

“Not sure there’s any other way to think,” You said, “So what about you? Your group, been together before?”

He shook his head, “No, we met each other on the road. We’ve lost a few people, gained a few people too. We’re holding up nice now if we can make it work. Our leader, Rick, and his wife are pregnant. Abouta pop. We have a man that can help, but I don’t know. I figured someone else might help too.”

You nodded and looked around the treehouse. This was a place you knew before and after. A place that you loved and hated. It was home and a prison, with memories that hurt every time you stepped in. And you were alone. And you were tired. 

“Your leader, Rick… will he take me?”

“He will. You helped me, you coulda killed me, and you didn’t. Plus, you got medical supplies and ammo. Our group needs both.”

You glanced at your stockpile. Your lifeline. Could you trade that? What if they took it and killed you right after?

Daryl seemed to sense your hesitation. “I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I coulda killed you too, back in the woods. Woulda been real easy to just pull the trigger. But I didn’t. I’m taking a leap of faith here, too, (Y/N).”

“Can Tora come?”

This made Daryl laugh, and he looked at the giant cat stretched out by the fire. “Yeah, yeah. We probably got a rat problem. We’ll keep her busy. Everyone pitches in. Besides, we got a kid. He’d probably love an animal around.”

You nodded and tossed the empty can aside. “I’m really familiar with the area. Been here before and after. You tell me where your camp is, and I bet I can get you there.”

“We at a prison,” 

Your eyebrows rose. “I know what one you’re talking about. About twenty miles north of here, right? Liam and I saw it a while back. It was full of walkers.”

“Not anymore.”

“Big group,” You said, your stomach tight with nerves. “If they kill me, promise me you’ll make sure Tora lives.”

The archer chuckled, “No one’s gonna kill ya.”

“I have a car. About two miles north of here is Liam’s parent's house. I keep some stuff there sometimes. If no one’s broken it, we can get to it once the storm clears and the sun’s up. I’m not walking twenty miles again.”

“Me neither,”

***

Sometime in the early morning, sleep found you. When your eyes opened a few hours later, the sun had been up for at least an hour. It took a few seconds before your memory came back to you and you jumped up, looking for the stranger from yesterday. 

The treehouse was empty, and your stockpile was gone. And so was Tora. “Son of a bitch,” You muttered, getting up. You grabbed your matchete and ran to the door. It was slightly ajar, and you nearly fell over when it opened so easily. 

“Jesus, you tryin’ wake everythin’ up around here?” Daryl stood by the balcony's edge, lowering the baskets with some rope. 

“I thought….”

“Yeah, I know what you thought, but I didn’,” Daryl said, “I was gonna wake ya up soon. Your cat brought a rabbit back.” He nodded his head behind you, and you looked back. It had already been gutted, cleaned, and cooked. You stood in disbelief for a second. 

“Oh… where is she?”

“On the roof,” 

You grabbed a few pieces of the tender meat and looked up to where she was gnawing on some bones. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at her. 

“Your bag, the one you dropped by the lake. Anything important?”

“It was just water. And some clothes. Everything else is damaged from the water.” You said, going back for a few more pieces. After yesterday, you were starving. 

“Good, didn’ wanna walk all the way back there,”

You nodded and took one last piece before disappearing back into the treehouse. It seemed Daryl had grabbed everything. Except on the table were a few of your personal belongings. Your gun, leg holster, ring, and a photograph of you and Liam together. Your still-wet shoes were on the floor next to the table. 

Taking a deep breath, you took a photograph from the frame and folded it, then put it in your back pocket. Your attached the hostler and then looked at the ring. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was a beautiful ring. Still, it ached your heart, and you couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. It didn’t feel right. Liam was gone. You weren’t. And you needed to think of a future where you survived, not memories that would hold you back. 

After pressing a quick kiss to the ring, you laid it gently along the small fireplace’s mantle. It was newly built. It wasn’t there before. But now, the ring would sit in the treehouse where it belonged. Where it could stay forever with Liam’s spirit and memory. 

“You aight?”

You looked back at Daryl and nodded, “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“It’s been quiet this morning. I think the walkers followed the storm south. The cat doesn’t seem worried.” 

You nodded and walked past him. Everything you needed to bring was already on the ground. “I’ve been here almost a year. Kept me safe. It feels so final.” You said. 

“We goin’ someplace better. Don’ got the time to be all wishy-washy about it.” 

You chuckled at his bluntness and walked towards the rope. “Yeah, I know.” 

***

Carrying all your supplies was much more difficult, and the two miles seemed to stretch forever. Each of you had bags on your shoulders and were carrying boxes of supplies. But finally, the yellow house came into view, and you sighed with relief. 

You didn’t need to say anything, your reaction alone told Daryl you were there, and he felt relief too. When you approached the garage door, you looked through the glass window and banged a few times before opening it. 

“I’ve picked through the house a few times. There’s really nothing to take. Anything worth taking I already did,” You said, walking over to the boxes of old Christmas decorations and donation boxes that never made it out. 

Underneath a Christmas tree box were the keys to the white Jeep Wrangler, and you unlocked the car quickly. It only took another minute to get it loaded up. 

“We lost the soft top a while back, left it at a storage unit in Atlanta, if I’m being honest.” You said. Suddenly your eyes widened, “Hold on, I gotta get something from the house.” 

“I’ll come with ya,” Daryl said. 

You glanced towards Tora, who happily sniffed all the boxes and other crap around the garage. “I’ll only be a second; watch her.”

You disappeared into the house, banging on a few walls to ensure no dead ones were around. You and Liam had locked the house up pretty tight. Just as suspected, there was nothing. And you quickly grabbed what you were looking for. On your way back, you passed another few boxes of donations and paused. 

In the garage, Daryl was getting antsy. He checked the supplies and then rechecked them. He wanted to get on the road and get back to his people. He wanted to know if Rick, Glenn, and Maggie had made it. He didn’t wanna wait any longer. 

Just when he was about to go look for you, you walked through the door carrying a bag in your arm and a cat carrier in the other. 

“I don’t trust her not to jump out of the car,” You said, shoving the carrier in his arms. “And I got this. Figured they shouldn’t be wasted, and I didn’t know how many baby supplies you got. It’s just some clothes and a few toys. Nothing else, sadly.”

“Lori will love this,” Daryl said quietly, setting down the carrier and taking the box from you. “You might be her favorite person after this.”

You laughed as you grabbed Tora, earning a few hisses as you tried to put her in the carrier. It took two tries, but finally, she was sitting rather unhappily and a bit overstuffed. “It’s only for a little while, baby,” You said, putting the carrier in the back seat and strapping it in, all while ignoring the few hisses she gave in displeasure. 

“Here,” You said, tossing the keys to Daryl. “This way, your people don’t think I got you hostage or something,”

Daryl only nodded and opened up the garage door, taking a quick look around before climbing it. You were just buckling in when the car roared to life, and he took off.

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Three)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.7k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

N.F.I., Me and You

There was a college Christmas party tonight. You and Michael heard about it. No one told you, of course. You just overheard it from people who didn’t know you were listening. They didn’t invite you. That was a given. When you asked Michael if he was upset about not getting an invitation, he responded (oh-so maturely) by blowing raspberries. Not in your face, though. He’s not an animal.

You quickly learned that not being invited to a college party (of any kind, because you weren’t invited to any of them) had a bright side - the library was all for you. Completely vacant. Quiet and vacant. Your go-to spots are in the back, where shelves wall you in and gawkers can’t peer in through the windows and interrupt your flow. No one does that, but it can feel that way. There was no need to look over your shoulder here. There was no open space for a person to exist. Only books and just enough room to scoot out of your chair. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, a comforting scent that always made you feel at ease. The yellow lights in the ceiling cast a soft, steady hum, adding to the peaceful silence.

Most people who show up to the library treat the place like it’s social hour, gathering around tables to chat shit, drown in coffee (that they weren’t supposed to have inside), and not touch a single book. Which is another reason you choose this location every time; no one finds this area entertaining for long. You wouldn’t be surprised if only a few people knew about its existence.

And speaking of only a few people, Michael emerged between the bookshelves, peeking from the side like he was going to scare you.

Well, he did scare you. Startle is a better word for it. You jerked in your seat at the sight of him in your peripheral. The look of instant regret played on his face; wide eyes and a gaped mouth. He apologized with a frantic, “Sorry, sorry!”

You laughed in spite of it. “If you wanted to kill me, then just say it, Michael.”

He snickered at you. “I knew you’d be here. And I wanted to see you.”

Then you looked down at what he was holding. Not books, as expected.

Michael’s eyes darted from the table to you. “Here, I brought you something.” He set the mugs down (a decaf Americano for him, a white macchiato for you). The thud of ceramic against lacquered wood echoed in the quiet, similar to the thud of your heart against your ribs, only on repeat. The rich aroma of coffee wafted up, mingling with the scent of the old books, creating an oddly comforting blend.

You were stunned by it. Not just because of the gesture (it was such a sweet gesture), but because of the obvious. “Michael,” you said to him, “you know the rules.”

“I do.” He smirked, then took the seat across from you, adjusting his glasses.

“Then why’d you bring open drinks from the shop?”

“Because no one stopped me.”

“If we get caught, then we’ll get in trouble.” The anxiety alone of getting into trouble was enough to make your leg bounce. Yet you tried to swallow down the fear. Your throat was already so dry from the winter weather, and you could already feel a sweat percolating under your collar.

“No. They like you too much. Because you don’t do anything.”

That was true, at least. You didn’t know if they necessarily liked you, but for someone who doesn’t leave the dorms much, you’re at least recognizable considering that they smile when you visit.

Michael pushed your macchiato toward you, and you worried it would spill. You pondered, looking at the coffee, then back up to Michael as if he were making you choose between the red or blue pill. The macchiato beckoned you in anyway, so you lifted it to your lips like there was no turning back. It soothed your throat from the winter air. “Thank you.” You pulled a napkin from your blazer pocket to wipe the froth off your mouth. Michael didn’t pick up on how deep your breaths were (because he wasn’t looking at you. He was poking around in his satchel). It was difficult to capture a good amount of air to fill your lungs and rid them of the lingering anxiety. The sip of caffeine you just took was definitely not going to help, but at least it was delicious.

“Also, I wanted to give this back to you.” He held up a collection of Kate Chopin’s short stories. He extended his arm across the table for you to take it.

You did and quickly flipped through the book before putting it in your bag. He completed reading The Awakening a week after he began and was delayed in cracking open her short stories. “So, what did you think?”

“I see why you like ‘A Story of an Hour’ so much. Very much your style of humor.”

At least this time at the end, the woman dying had a funny layer to it; seeing her husband actually not dead from a reported accident made her “die of joy” when she, once again, was happy to not be married anymore.

He picked up his Americano. “I definitely see the pattern you’re talking about. With the marriage part. But it makes sense why it would be so consistent. Given the time and all.”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you said it. Despite your hesitation, you still reached out to take another drink. You could already feel the caffeine coursing. As you tried to steady your breath, you scanned your notes again. You could feel Michael’s eyes on you, and you were afraid he was noticing. “How’s Oliver?”

Michael sighed. “Dunno. I’ve seen him staring a lot at Felix Catton and his group of fucking losers. He’s been acting differently.”

“Really? You think they’re friends?”

“Michael shrugged, his arms still flat on the table. “Not sure. I’ve never seen them together. He still doesn’t talk much, so not the same on the charisma scale.”

Maybe he has a crush on him. Has he talked about him?” You asked slowly, as you swallowed.

“Not around me. He didn’t know about the party either.”

“Hm,” you simply said. Your fingers twitched as the energy reached the ends of your feet. You swore you heard footsteps somewhere between the shelves where Michael came in. You were almost convinced that someone would catch you, clenching your teeth as you prepared for inevitable embarrassment.

Michael leaned back in his chair, looking down the aisle. “No one’s there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I think someone was just walking by. No big deal.”

“Okay.” Your exhale was slow before picking your pen back up. You lost track of where you were in your rewrites. People like Felix and Venitia Catton and their peers may be more popular, drunk, and social than you’ll ever be, but their grades matter by the end of the semester. At least one of them always needs notes for classes they didn’t attend, especially if they need to retake the class. They’re just as vain, so aesthetically pleasing notes will sell more. You searched through, trying to find where you left off. But your leg bounced once more, the small heel of your shoe growing obnoxious.

“Still nervous?”

You nodded as you searched, finding where you left off and trying to concentrate on your handwriting; being slow and methodical to keep it as neat as a font.

“You can dare to take risks now and then, you know. It’s not always going to turn out as bad as you think.” His tone was earnest as he leaned forward slightly.

But you gripped your pen to instinct, pausing as your stare turned hard, finding Michael in your crosshairs.

He rested his head on the table. His lips disappeared into his mouth briefly as he started to put together that he may have fucked up. “What?”

Okay, maybe not.

“You know it’s not that simple for me. You, of all people, should know that it’s not that simple, Michael.”

“Phobias are irrational. They feed on an extreme lack of logic.” He said it with a mix of defense in his argument. It was as if this was something up for debate.

“I understand how phobias work, Michael. Like you, I am a student at Oxford University. I may not be a genius like you, but I understand my phobia from years of my research and experience.”

Michael picked his head back up. Perhaps the growing heat from your anger started brushing against him. “I just…” his back hit the chair and his posture sank. “I’d rather not see you miss out on four years of Oxford University.”

“My time at Oxford University is for education. Just like yours.”

“You know what I mean.” He blinks as his glasses slide down his nose.

“Do I?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward, reaching a hand out. He was literally trying to bridge the gap. Any other time, you would’ve taken it.

“You can’t control that.”

“But you can control cows?” The hand was gone, and his tone turned sharp as his words sliced through the library's quiet. “You deserve a break from the academic side of all this. Like everyone else.”

“You think the outside world is a break for me?”

“Well, not exactly but—”

You snapped your notebooks closed and stood to put on your overcoat. “I need to go.” You struggled to keep your voice steady, mapping out the typical path from the library to your dorm.

“Wait, don’t.” He reached out, but you gave him nothing.

You didn’t respond or even look at him. The Christmas party was likely still happening, given it was only seven in the evening. You hoped Michael wouldn’t get up. You hoped he’d let you leave. He knew you didn’t like feeling trapped, but he didn’t seem to know (or care) as much as you thought he did.

You were mindful as you walked between the shelves, conscious of the bookbag you held against your hip and making sure it didn’t knock any books to the floor. The trickle of tears lined your eyes and burned as you tried to hold them back. The library's warmth, once comforting, now felt suffocating, and you longed for the crisp air outside.

Taglist: @anukulee