#even the two weeks i took off last year for mental health!!!! ended up having to do shit in the middle of it all!!!!!! like!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ranger-kellyn]

can i PLEASE get my creative drive back ;~;

[sunkissedscribbles]

Do You Still Care?

pairing: bf!mattheo x fem!gryffindor!chaser!reader

genre: angst

tw: mental health issues on y/n’s side (briefly) mentioned, mention of sex, swearing

word count: 5112

summary: mattheo’s plan to see if you still care backfires completely and ends with a breakup, but are you two able to resolve what's gone wrong?

Songs: the way i loved you - taylor swift (lyrics used), scared of my guitar - olivia rodrigo

a/n: thanks for the help @inksoakedparchment <3

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

The promise ring landed on the cold stone flooring of the Slytherin common room with a metallic clink as you dropped the silver jewellery to catch Mattheo’s attention. You were both disappointed and frustrated with him because the last thing you thought you’d see when stepping into the Slytherin commons was a girl, clearly not you, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap.

Mattheo, clearly enjoying himself as he had his hands on the girl’s waist, turned his head to look at you. The shine left his eyes as they met yours, but his gaze soon dropped to the ring he bought you for your second anniversary, which was now on the floor. It stirred something in him, even the thought of it not being on your finger, where it belonged didn’t sit right in him. But he had to hide his pain. He knew he couldn’t break now.

Your facial muscles hardened as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, eyeing your boyfriend angrily, the girl in his lap oblivious to everything around her as all she cared about was that she got the privilege of touching Mattheo Riddle.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you exclaimed coldly, closing off the emotions and locking them up before they could overtake you. If he plays the indifferent, so are you.

This snapped Mattheo out of his trance as he realized he took it too far, and that his plan backfired. “What? No, Y/N, you can’t just say that-“

“Well, yeah, I can,” you spat and shook your head as you eyed the girl from a year below you in his lap and with a scoff, you added, “We’re over, Mattheo.”

“No, you’re overreacting,” he practically pushed the girl off his lap as he got up to be at eye level with you. Walking up to you, he took the promise ring from the floor and held it up for you between his thumb and index fingers. “We’re good together, princess. I love you, you love me. You can’t break up with me,” he shook his head as he tried to hold a desperate sound back, trying hard to maintain this cold facade he mastered throughout the years — the one he only let fall completely when he was around you.

You pushed his hand with the ring away as you spoke up angrily, “But I’m not going to be a second choice every time you see a pretty girl!” and without warning, you turned around and walked out of the common room.

He was still shocked as he stared at your ring between his fingers. This was a stupid game, he shouldn’t have done this. You were his first real girlfriend. The first serious relationship and the last he wanted to ever end. Why did he flirt with a girl in the first place even? It was because you two had been arguing a lot lately, which only resulted in your relationship becoming more of a competition of who can shut down more and keep the indifferent, cold act up. You needed time because it had always been hard for you to express your feelings the moment they appeared — you needed to digest them and let them digest you before you could finally get them off your chest in one way or another. But the more you kept it for yourself the more he thought you were falling out of love with him and didn’t care about him anymore. That’s why he came up with this idea; to make you jealous to see if you did still care. He was only now thinking about how he should’ve given you the time you needed to open up.

You hadn't even talked to him for weeks, trying to push the pain of the breakup down by focusing on other things: your studies, friends, yourself and you were working on erasing Mattheo from your life. And how could you make yourself forget about that twat? By replacing him.

Not the most logical thing to do, for sure and it only complicated things even more, but you got together with Michael Corner from Ravenclaw. It wasn't quite a mature thing to do, especially when Michael did actually have feelings for you and you knew how you'd regret this later because it could only end in pain on one of your side. Because if he found out you — let's be real — used him, he'd get heartbroken and angry. But if he didn't find out, you'd be unhappy with him which he probably wouldn't even notice. So, this is how you got yourself trapped in this vicious circle.

Mattheo, on the other hand, had been acting like a complete douchebag since you'd broken up with him. Not that he had been that nice before. But now the number of the fights he got himself into had severely increased, he started acting colder than anytime else before, and he started looking through you like you weren't even there. He also lost interest in his studies almost completely, his marks dropping lower and lower each day. Or, well, his enquiry had decreased to practising the jinxes and hexes he'd learnt on other students, and getting rid of his excess energy and frustration on the Quidditch pitch. Each and every time he saw you, it just annoyed him so much. He didn't like you with this new other guy, he hated how you seemed to enjoy your life without him so easily. He despised Michael, hated the way he talked with that stupid Welsh accent, and how he always seemed to have his goddamn hand on your waist, right where he had his when you two were together. No one other than him had the right to touch you, in his opinion, and he couldn't stand the mental image of you with someone else. He missed seeing the way your face lit up every time you got excited about something, he missed how your pretty eyes were sparkling and shining when you looked at him. He missed you, and how it had been before things started going spiralling down with all those many and frequent arguments lately. He was miserable and as much as it is selfish, he wanted you to feel just as bad.

But leading the word back to you, erasing him from your life had been harder than you make it seem to be. But knowing his grades were dropping and seeing him acting like a total arse to everyone all you could think of is how this all is your fault, how you were the source of causes behind him changing this seriously.

By the time the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match came, students were betting on either team or even making it complicated as "Potter will catch the Snitch but Slytherin will win." Of course, they were; every year this is the biggest match between all houses since the rivalry is the worst between these two houses. It's even worse than a World Cup — it's like boys comparing their sizes. It's no different this year either. The Beaters aren't playing as 'nicely' as they do against Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff — they don't only hit the Bludgers with their bats but the Beaters, and occasionally, the Chasers of the opposing team, too, and the Chasers go on the speed they normally would.

You were manoeuvring with the Quaffle in your hand across the field while Mattheo tried to take you down by crossing your way. Yes, he wanted to win and wanted you to lose for once but despite being as angry and frustrated with you, he couldn't bring himself to tackle you down with a Bludger. How could he? Yes, you broke up with him but that doesn't mean anyone can hurt you. You are his princess, Merlin forbid anyone touching you.

"Twat," you muttered to yourself as Mattheo passes you by, but then set off with greater speed to score another against Slytherin, making it 140-100 for Gryffindor. Soon, Slytherin scored too, as Theo got the Quaffle in his hands, but as you set off to get the ball back, a Bludger coming from Goyle hit your broom. This caused you to lose your balance and your grip on the broom handle.

Mattheo watched in horror as you were hanging from your broom, in the air, among the flying balls and students. His mind immediately went blank as he witnessed the scene before his eyes and he forgot all about the game. Without thinking about it any further, he set off in your direction instantly and wrapped an arm around your waist to save you from falling, and before you’d known, you were sitting behind him on the broom.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“Making sure you don’t fall, you idiot,” he exclaimed, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest as you held onto him tight. Merlin, he missed your body close to his so much.

“Thanks,” you muttered reluctantly, trying to push down ann the feelings that lingered in you for him still.

“Don’t mention it,” he shook his head with a cold tone as he took you to the ground to get your broom back from where it’d fallen. He didn’t want to let go of you, he wanted you to stay pressed up against him, just to feel your arms around him, your warm breath tickling the soft skin of his neck. But he knew he had to let go. You have moved on, you don’t even talk.

Muttering another ‘Thanks’ when you got off from behind him, you went to grab the broomstick. He hopped off his broom too, watching as your delicate figure walked away from him frustratedly, trying to keep up the image that this hadn’t affected him at all, which took him back to how much he hated your new boyfriend. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, you two should’ve lived happily ever after like you two had dreamed.

And now, after the brief moment together, he hated the Ravenclaw boy even more.

“Don’t forget the game is still going on. Or are you worried about your little boyfriend seeing us together?” the mocking words rolled off his tongue without him even thinking about what he was saying.

Your blood boiled at his comment, but when your eyes flickered to the Ravenclaw stands, seeing Michael in all Gryffindor colours, you somehow didn’t feel guilty for the Ravenclaw boy witnessing this scene with you and your ex-boyfriend. “Jealous?” You spat at Mattheo and rolled your eyes, gripping your broomstick.

He let out a sarcastic scoff and following suit, he rolled his eyes. “Jealous? Of the nerd?”

Of course he was jealous, but he couldn’t possibly admit it. This was a game of who is the most stubborn to admit their true feelings. And he wasn’t going to lose. But it took everything in him not to just push you back to the ground, climb on top of you and fuck kiss you until you forget your goddamn boyfriend’s name.

“Yeah. Jealous ‘cause I’m with him?” You stepped back. Michael is a nice guy, you had to give him that. But he’s not Mattheo. Michael wasn’t by far the one you wanted, not who you loved. He didn’t have those mesmerizing chocolate eyes that stared into your soul and shined when he was looking at you, he didn’t have the dark curls you instinctively raked your fingers through after a long day when he was lying on top of you, using your breasts as a pillow and listening to your heartbeat like it was a music you composed only for him.

His eyes remained on you, and that little statement made him snap on an instant. He threw his broom onto the ground to be able to step closer and pull you in by the waist and flush your body against his. By this time, he had completely forgotten about the match going on — not that you had thought about that at this moment either. It was just the two of you again, even if just for a moment, even if it was only arguing with your ex-boyfriend. “Damn right, I’m jealous. He gets to touch you. He gets to kiss you. I hate it.”

“He can see this. Us. Everyone can,” you instinctively gripped onto his upper arms as your bodies stayed pressed against each other while glaring into his eyes. You couldn’t deny that you missed this closeness with him. Because your heart still only desired him and had no space for anyone else in it.

Mattheo glanced around, seeing the people and players looking at the two of you. But he didn’t actually give a damn about that right then. He was completely focused on you, his eyes burning with jealousy and a hint of desire. His hands remained on your waist as he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you without a care in the world about the public. “Do I look like I care?”

“No. We both know that’s not something you normally do,” you freed yourself from his grip as you made the snarky comment about the girl in his lap before grabbing your broom again and setting off to continue the match. How dare he come at you with how jealous he is after what he’d done? Bloody git.

The team was cheering after Harry had caught the Snitch, right when Katie scored through a hoop one last time, making the final score 340-250 for Gryffindor. When Crabbe’s Bludger hit you and you fell off your broom, leading to the ominous conversation with Mattheo, the Gryffindor team lost you, a damn good Keeper for enough time for Slytherin to win over the points, so when Crabbe scolded Mattheo for technically saving you, no one was surprised.

The stout boy yelled after Mattheo, who was currently leaving the pitch, enraged. “What the fuck was that?” Crabbe echoed, following the curly-haired boy. “It’s our job to get those bloody Gryffindors off their brooms and I had Y/L/N! She’s the best Chaser on that fucking team! Without her, we would’ve won! But you had to go and save her like the damn Prince Charming you are?!”

Mattheo clenched his jaw as Crabbe shouted at him, his arms crossed against his chest. He knew that Crabbe was right. It wasn’t his smartest move to save your ass, but deep down he also knew that no one should harm you. He was not losing you.

“So what? You want me to let you take her out or something? And yes, I’m the one to save her because she’s the only goddamn person worth saving in this whole world.”

You overheard his words and your whole body froze. Suddenly, all other noises, your team’s and the other students’ happy cheers were tuned out, you could only hear Mattheo’s words repeating in your head. Your heart was already pumping ten times faster, and stronger as well, you could hear the drum, the fast da-dum in your ears. The only person worth saving? You?

“Fuck, mate! What happened to the dickhead you’ve been since you two broke up?” Crabbe continued spitting in Matt’s face. “I started to think you got some sense when she dumped you! She’s just a dumb Gryffindor who likes being the centre of attention, dude, grow up! She’s not like us, not worth your time! Just some basic ass bitch — but she’s fuckable, I give you that”

Mattheo could feel his anger and rage building within him, but he tried to keep his cool, knowing that if he snapped, there would be no stopping him. He glanced in your direction, seeing you standing in the distance, watching him and Crabbe. He clenched his jaw as Crabbe called you a 'dumb Gryffindor', as he said you’re not worth his time. But the last comment, about you only being some nice piece of meat, made him snap. He suddenly sprang closer to Crabbe and pushing him against the wall of the changing rooms, Mattheo pinned him the boy twice his size there, relentlessly gripping his Quidditch robes.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you piece of shit,” he spat at Crabbe. “You don't even know her. You don't have the right to talk about her, you don't have the right to say her name! And if you dare talk about her like that again, I will tear you limb from limb!” he growled at the other boy in a low voice, his eyes darkened by anger and rage.

“Aw, Riddle, you gone soft for her. Is shagging her this nice?” Crabbe, being taller and bigger in a sense that’s not muscle mass laughed at Mattheo with a grin, not realizing the next thing Mattheo would do for sure was breaking his nose.

But before he could have done any damage to the boy, you pulled Mattheo away, knowing there would be nothing that could stop him from potentially sending Crabbe into a coma and himself in detention. For you. Because of you. Again.

When your hands grabbed onto his biceps to pull him back, his fingers instinctively softened on the fabric of Crabbe’s robes, knowing your touch like the back of his palm. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him as you held onto him and pulled him back, the urge to spin around and kiss you growing stronger than any, but he was still too pissed over Crabbe’s words.

“He’s not worth it. Just some douchebag,” you muttered to Mattheo when he started to try to escape my arms, Theo helping you by using a muting charm on Crabbe in order to keep him from saying anything else that would anger Mattheo even further. Partly angrily, you shoved him under a rain of cold water in the changing rooms to have him come to his senses, still in your Quidditch robes.

The cold shower snapped him out of the haze of anger Crabbe’s words put him into, his breathing returning back from feral to normal as he faced you in the shower, his hair soaking wet and his robes already dripping too — your clothes were somewhat damp as well by that time. “I’m not sure if I would’ve been able to stop myself back there,” he shook his head slightly.

“I know,” you just nodded, while in an internal fight between love and hate where you had no idea which one to let win.

Mattheo, knowing you more than anyone else, instantly knew what you were thinking, now that he was finally focusing on you and not on keeping the cold facade up in front of you. He could feel his dark curls stick to his forehead as they were soaking wet, still standing under the cold water. He looks at you for a moment before speaking up. “Just scream at me. Shout whatever you want.”

You wanted to scream, and shout, just like he had told you to. But you knew you had to stay away from him emotionally because it would only lead to you breaking down in front of him, which would probably end in a position with him that would be considered cheating on Michael. Your boyfriend. Mattheo wasn’t your boyfriend anymore, for fuck’s sake!

You shook your head. “No,” you scoffed and turned the water off before taking a step back. “Thanks for defending me. And saving my ass. But we’re over,” you said, your demeanour cold and distant as you turned around and walked away.

Mattheo's eyes widened in shock as he heard you say you were over, again. The panic and pain that washed over him got the best of him and quickly grabbed your arm again and turned you around, forcing you to face him again. He didn't want to lose you completely, not like this, not because of his own stupidity. "You don't mean that," he shook his head as he spoke up in desperation.

"Yes, I do," you scoffed angrily. No, in fact, you did not mean it at all. "You were openly flirting with that Slytherin, she was looking at you like she had given you head earlier! Oh, or had she? Why did you go and have to do that?"

Mattheo's expression turned from desperate to frustrated in no time as he clenched his jaw. He took a step closer to you, his voice growing more agitated. "Damn, Y/N, I was just messing around, I-"

"Messing around?" you cut in with an irritated scoff, covering the pain of betrayal. "When you had a girlfriend? Are you insane?" you pushed him back to make him stumble a bit and let go of your arm, on the verge of crying out of frustration and hurt.

At your refusal to trust him, his frustration and annoyance only grew, showing in a sigh and a scowl as you pushed him away. "I've never done anything with her! I would never do anything with her, Y/N. I don't want anyone else but you, don't you get that?"

"I don't care! I don't want someone who's doing things behind my back! Next time you get someone pregnant and tell me you were only messing around?!" you shook your head as the first set of tears started running down your cheek.

Mattheo felt his anger being replaced by a sense of shock and pain as he got accused of ever being able to cheat on you. "Damn it, Y/N, I'd never do anything with anyone else! I just... I just wanted to get a reaction out of you."

"Why?" you ran a frustrated hand through your hair while shaking your head. You started to lose it, not understanding the situation by now.

"Because I'm a moron, okay?" he scoffed bitterly. "Because I knew you'd get jealous if you saw me like that. We were falling out and I wanted to see if you still cared!" he spilt, to which a gobsmacked and frustrated expression got painted on your face. He thought you stopped caring about him?

I mean, sure, you two had started falling out and you two did argue a lot in the past month or two, but it wasn't at all because you didn't care about him anymore. You just couldn't quite word what was happening inside you. And right when you were finally ready and stepped into the common room to fill him in and come clean, he was sitting there, on the couch with another girl in his lap.

Suddenly the few little tears turned into rivers as fat drops rushed down both your cheeks, out of all the anger, frustration, sadness and disappointment that have built up in the past few weeks. You backed off, towards the door but as he saw you do that with the heavy rain of tears that were streaming down your face, his eyes welled up as well and he warily took a step closer to you to pull you into a tight embrace while muttering "No, no, no, don't cry." You gave in to the similarity of his touch and leaned into it for a second before coming to your senses and pulling away, knowing Michael was waiting for you outside.

Mattheo watched you suddenly abort the physical contact between the two of you, his expression quickly changing to confusion and disappointment as you stepped back. He didn't have to see the boy to know the reason behind your motions. "No, wait," he reached out and grabbed your wrist to turn you around with a desperate voice and a pleading tone. "Don't go. Please, don't go with him."

"I have to," you replied as you were forced to look into his eyes but you couldn't mask the pain anymore. "He's my boyfriend."

Those words felt like a punch to the gut for Mattheo, shattering the remains of his heart into a million little pieces. Hearing you call Michael Corner your boyfriend caused a wave of pain and anger to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw, his grip on your wrist only growing firmer the more desperate he became. "You don't have to, that's the point. You're with me, not him. You're mine, not his."

Your blood boiling, you freed your wrist from his tight grip exasperatedly. "You don't fucking own me, Mattheo Thomas Riddle"

"Damn it, I know I don't! I never said that. But we belong together, Y/N/N. You know you don't love him. Not like you love me."

He dares to call you by your nickname?

"Unfortunately," you spit, "that's not your fucking business anymore."

This is how we get to the present day. You broke things off with Michael yesterday after guilt got too much for you to handle, after realizing you can't possibly keep stringing him along like some dog, you can't use him to drown the feelings you have for Mattheo. And this is why you are currently in the music room on the fifth floor. It has always been like some sort of shelter for you. It's never judged, had a piano you played with preference and you could just sit down and live up to your artistic skills. You wrote your poems and songs here.

Mattheo knows. Not about the break-up but how much time you spend in this classroom. He sometimes accompanied you as well, while you two were together. So, when he doesn't find you in your room after hearing you ended things with Michael, this is where he looks for you.

You're sitting by the piano, playing the instrument in question, singing something you wrote a few days prior. And Mattheo's only watching, standing by the door, listening to your beautiful, usually soothing but now oh-so-troubled voice, paying attention to how your delicate fingers dance over the keys.

"...He can't see the smile I'm faking And my heart's not breaking 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all And you were wild and crazy Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated Got away by some mistake and now

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you..."

It's a gasp that snaps you out of the song and your focus is instantly shifted the moment you turn to look at the person the sound came from, and you find yourself facing Mattheo. He's feeling guilty, but then again, the knowledge that you miss him makes him feel proud and a strange sense of happiness flows through him. It fills him with the hope that maybe, just maybe there is a chance to make this thing work between the two of you.

"Are you following me?" you ask, scoffing as you shut your feelings out again when looking at him.

"Maybe I am," he admits with a shrug, trying to feign nonchalance. He glances at the piano before shifting his attention back to you, and saying, "heard you playing."

"No shit, Sherlock," you bark bark back at him.

"This was about me, wasn't it?" he steps to the piano and looks down at you after closing the door.

"About comparing you and Michael," you correct him.

"And what's the point in that?"

"To remind myself how I love an obnoxious prick instead of someone who's kind and caring," you roll your eyes.

Mattheo scowls at your insult and crosses his arms defensively. "I'm not obnoxious. I'm not going to pretend to be someone else to fit your definition of 'kind' and 'caring.'"

"I miss my Mattheo," you exclaim coldly. "" Who was like that, with me. Who didn't try to make me jealous because he was fucked in the head and thought I didn't care!"

He sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair. "I still am that Mattheo. I never stopped being him. I was just trying to get a reaction out of you, to see if you cared at all. Nothing with that girl was serious."

You scoff. "And now you expect me to just forgive and forget for choosing not to talk about the very obvious problem but to go the easier way?"

Exasperated by the conversation, he shakes his head. "No. No, I don't expect you to do that so easily. I know what I did was wrong, okay? I know I messed up. But I was angry and frustrated because we were fighting almost every day for weeks and you weren't making it any easier by not telling me about how you were feeling. I-I was worried about you and then I was worried for us, for the future we've planned. I acted unreasonably and the next thing I know is you taking your ring off and me losing you because of my own stupidity."

Taken aback, you shake your head with thoughts of all kinds going through your head. He still loves you, how could you deny him? "I told you I had something going on that I wasn't able to talk about yet," you shake your head.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I should've given you the time and I should've been patient. But I feared I was losing you," he lets out a guilty, ragged breath. "I'm not begging you, but I'm not giving up on you, on us either. I'm sorry, I miss you," he says, tapping his fingertips on top of the piano as he looks down at you.

Letting out a relieved sigh at hearing the genuineness of his tone and words, you get up from the instrument and step toward him, taking his hand in yours, thus making both of us' hearts skip a beat before they start to beat more rapidly. The truth is, you don't think he could ever do anything that'd make you stop loving him.

"I'm sorry and I miss you too," you reply softly, making him smile while the shine returns to his chocolate eyes as he looks at you. He reaches into his pocket, then holds the promise ring you've taken off out for you. He's been having it in his pocket since that day, and on his nightstand at night. "May I?"

With a small yet genuine smile, you nod and hold your hand out for him, and after returning it to where it belongs, he kisses your hand gently. "I'll never let you go again."

"You better."

taglist: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway🌷pt. 1

summary: Mr. Styles has possibly interested Y/N more than his literature classes and she finds herself pining for him over the months.

pairings: professor!harry, student!reader

warnings: small age difference, mentions of smut

word count: 4.7k

note: i wanted to make this one part but it will be too long so there will have to be a part 2

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/summerclementine27/757559698881986560/meet-me-in-the-hallway-pt2

Tender days of mid-October

As I took my seat in the large lecture hall, a sense of anticipation loomed over me. Today, Mr. Styles was giving us the results of the last literature and theory criticism coursework I had handed in the previous week. This was my third class with him, one of two this school year, the other being Contemporary Literature. Last year, he taught me Introduction to Literature, a mandatory class for my degree. Though I dreaded it at first due to his choice of reading list, I ended up falling in love with the course because of the way he taught it. Some works I initially criticized him for choosing, he ended up using as examples and critiqued them himself, like "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Plus, it helped that he was impossibly handsome with his tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

When my friends noticed how much I liked his class, they were unfazed. However, as I became somewhat of a teacher’s pet in a class rudimentary compared to the others I took this year—such as Feminism and Literature, Historical Narratives in Fiction, and Postcolonial Literary Criticism—they realized that maybe the tall, green-eyed man was what had really piqued my interest, not discussing "Middlemarch" for four classes.

On days when I had his class, I dressed extra nicely, sometimes even daring to pair a clean collared shirt with a shorter-than-usual skirt. One time, I even left my wool trench coat on during the first period and stood up from my auditorium seat to take it off. Sitting in the back, the rows of chairs likely covered the lower part of my body, but I was sure the space between my long boots and short skirt was visible from his vantage point. Surely, my abrupt standing would grab his attention. What I didn’t anticipate was him pausing in the middle of a long train of thought to stare, then quickly catching himself and stuttering before continuing seamlessly as I knew he would. My friend Anika, seated in one of the front rows, noticed and turned to see what had caught his attention. To her dismay, I was playing games with someone totally unattainable again. But she knew I thrived on academic validation, and this little crush of mine would only drive me to excel in more classes.

"Are you serious, Y/N? He's our professor." she exclaimed once.

"I know, but he's just... different."

"Different? Or is it the way he looks at you when you answer a question?"

"Maybe both. Besides, this crush is making me work harder. You can't argue with the results."

"Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

In fact, it drove me to do more than that. One time, Mr. Styles noticed my passion for poetry after I shamelessly defended the works of Sylvia Plath with a controversial view that modern poetry should not shy away from the stark realities of mental health. He gave me a few poetry anthologies and compilations, including his annotated copies. I fawned over reading his notes and even emailed him once, pretending that I had "accidentally" annotated something, forgetting it wasn’t my own copy after losing myself in the literature. He replied kindly:

Mr. Styles: "Please, feel free to annotate as much as you like. I would be honored to have your opinions inked on my favorite copies."

By the next semester, after encouraging me to join the poetry society, Mr. Styles nominated me for president, and I was thrilled to win. He insisted on celebrating, gently grasping my upper arm and smiling warmly as he said he expected nothing less. I brought a bottle of wine to his office, where he had asked me to meet him, only to find the entire poetry society there, ready to congratulate me. The gathering lingered for a few delightful hours before everyone left, leaving just the two of us to clean up.

"You really impressed everyone tonight, Y/N. Not that I'm surprised." He began once we were truly all alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles. I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Well, you deserve it. By the way, outside of class and school hours, you can call me Harry." He said in his thick Manchester accent.

"Only if you stop calling me Ms. Y/L/N." I joked.

"Hey! I only do that sometimes. Plus, I can't call out to you in class like, 'Y/N, will you read the next slide?' People will think..."

"...think I’m the teacher’s favorite?" I finished his sentence with a teasing smile.

I couldn’t take the lingering stares and supposedly accidental touches we were both guilty of. But I knew that if I really wanted this, if I wanted to be more than just a student he regretted being tempted by when I graduated, then I had to play the long game.

And indeed I did. I kept up my habit of always showing up well-dressed in elegant coats and well-fitting clothing. I accentuated my features with a light coat of makeup, even if I had to apply it on a bumpy bus ride to campus. I even signed up for his office hours, despite really not needing them, just to exchange thoughts and opinions under the guise of “wanting to make sure I'm on the right track.” I wanted him to get to know me more, to realize that despite my youth, I was mature and thoughtful.

At the start of the second year, he emailed me to come to campus a few times in August, a month before the start of term, to discuss my responsibilities as the founder of the debate team. The idea sparked in his mind after I excelled in the heated debate he chose to hold as our first-year final assessment. He was so in awe that he went as far as saying I could compete at a national level on the English debate team, which neither of us was certain of, but I accepted the compliment.

Our earlier meetings were spent cooped up in his office, reviewing why the last debate team failed almost a decade ago and planning the structure for the new team. We discussed everything from team dynamics to potential debate topics, ensuring we were prepared for any challenge.

On one of the hotter days in August, we took our meeting to the university courtyard, having grown tired of experiencing the last bursts of England’s so-called summer from his office window. It was a beautiful window, and a big one at that, but it didn’t compare to actually being outside. That day, I realized the majority of planning for the next few months had already been accomplished in our first few meetings, and I got the hint that he didn’t actually need my help now that I had settled everything I could that wasn’t on an administrative level. So naturally, I decided to have a little fun.

I was wearing penny loafers with black tailored pants that I got fitted for when I visited my mum in London in July. I had paired them with a light knit sweater that fit slightly loosely over my shoulders, often falling down to reveal a collarbone. When I saw him take off his blazer and loosen his tie, I took that as my green light to take off something of my own, knowing I was wearing a neat white tank top underneath. As I slipped the sweater off, covering my face with the fabric, I could see his face through the thin material, making out his features and briefly noticing his eyes on my body. Sitting up straight, I managed to remove the sweater from over my head neatly. Once he saw my face, a soft blush made it to his own.

"Did I mess up my hair?" I asked, as if I hadn’t planned on brushing down the strands that had likely gone astray or as if I was oblivious to the fact that I had just taken off my sweater in front of him.

"Um, yeah, a bit at the top," he said, chuckling as if he wasn’t just clearing his throat in a flustered manner before my face was revealed from under the sweater.

To my surprise, he reached out, inching himself closer to where I was sitting on the bench we shared. With two fingers, his index and middle, he gently brushed down the messy hair on either side of the top of my head.

"Thank you, Harry," I said softly.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen later this year.

As the class settled down to receive their marks on the literature and theory criticism coursework, Mr. Styles walked in, dressed in a well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt. He took off his coat and placed it on the edge of his desk, a departure from his usual habit of draping it over the back of his chair. He wasted no time before pulling out the papers from his leather satchel and making his way down the aisles of the lecture hall, passing out the papers to everyone. When he read out my name, I watched as his eyes searched for me across the hall, darting from one side of the room to the other. It was unlike me to skip his class, so he knew all he had to do was find me. I hadn’t planned this specific event, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. Once he found me, he smiled sheepishly, yet much more subtly than he did when we were alone and made his way to me.

"Excellent work, Y/L/N," he said as he gently placed the papers on my desk. "I especially appreciate the effort of handwriting this," he remarked, although everyone knew he didn’t care if papers were written by hand or typed on a computer.

I had deliberately written my paper by hand after he replied to an email of mine. I had thanked him for letting me borrow his books, and his response was a charming note saying he’d enjoyed reading my annotations and adored my handwriting. For once, I was glad that my all-girls school had emphasized cursive writing, as I used it to add a romantic touch to my work.

When I finally read his comments and feedback, I was met with admiration and praise. In one of the margins, he had written, “Your insights are so compelling, it’s impossible not to fall in love with your analysis.” On the final page, at the bottom, he had added, “It’s a privilege to be your professor. Your brilliance shines so brightly that it’s clear this paper is a testament to your exceptional talent.”

Often times I worried that there actually was something going on between us, and that his praise and charming were remarks were not that of a proud professor, but of an infatuated man instead. So that day, I decided to address it.

As the lecture drew to a close, I lingered in my seat, carefully packing up my belongings with deliberate slowness. The classroom slowly emptied, the murmur of students’ conversations fading into the background as they made their way out. I wanted to be alone with Mr. Styles, to discuss something that had been weighing on my mind. By the time I made my way down the row of seats to his desk, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Mr. Styles,” I began hesitantly, catching his eye as he gathered his papers. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, go ahead. I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I’d like to ask you as well.”

A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me. The possibility of crossing a line—whether I had done so with my subtle flirtations or if he were about to make a move that could alter our dynamic—was almost too much to bear.

My fantasies of him flashed through my mind. I had dreamt of intimate moments with him like kissing him, waking up in his bed, or better yet, on the couch in his office after a late romantic night together. I had once pictured us sitting on the floor around his small coffee table as we did one time when they ordered takeout during one of our August meetings except this time I would slip my shoes off casually and find a way to stroke my foot, clothed thin leggings, against his leg, looking at him with doe eyes as I dare to not so innocently asks if he ever thought about me sexually.

Hell, I even pictured him going down on me after laying me on his desk and even touched myself to the idea of riding him while he sat on his office chair. I would sneak into the small space between him and his desk and shut off his laptop while he graded my papers, cockily saying “We already know I got an A” – despite my crippling self-doubt without tangible affirmation – as I sit on his lap. In this fantasy he would laugh at my remark and gladly embrace me with a hand on my ass, the other intertwined among thick locks of my long hair, messing it up as I teasingly kiss him, ever so aware of the friction I’m creating between our crotches.

But still, to think that he would propose something to me in that moment, sexual or romantic, casually after class as if I haven’t been pining for two Octobers made me incredibly nervous.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice as I met his gaze. “Mr. Styles, well, first of all this has nothing to do with the actual course itself, maybe a bit but...” I trailed off “It’s... it’s been on my mind for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. “Sure, go ahead. I’m happy to answer anything.” He smiled shyly to comfort me.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I prepared to voice my concerns. “Do you think that maybe my behavior in class, my enthusiasm, or even my approach to your feedback has influenced you to… um… maybe to favor me? Over other students I mean.” I began nervously, desperately searching for an expression on his blank face.

“Maybe sometimes I get a little excited and forget that you are my professor and not my friend or something, I think I may have overstepped my boundaries but… but you treat me as an equal which, by the way, I have always greatly appreciated. I mean, it has offered me an opportunity to grow as a student like no other, but I still worry…”I trailed off, now a stern look evident on his face and possibly even hurt.

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered my words. “I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “It’s clear that you’re passionate and dedicated, and I value that. But it’s important to remember that I strive to maintain fairness in all my interactions with students.”

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I understand, Mr. Styles. I just want to make sure that if I take pride in these academic accomplishments… if I want to revel in the fact that I always receive praise from you and rarely any criticism – like todays feedback for example, which included no criticism, I want to make sure it is because I am worthy of it. And not because I won you over by involving myself in your extracurriculars or because we are… uh.. friendly.”

He looked at me with a reassuring smile, his gaze steady and sincere. “First of all, let me assure you that you are never inappropriate. The friendship we’ve developed is separate from our academic interactions. Outside of school hours, I call you by your first name to maintain that distinction. In the classroom, I evaluate you purely on your merit.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest. “The reason your feedback today contained no criticism is that your paper was truly flawless. If there had been any weaknesses or areas for improvement, I would have pointed them out without hesitation. I hold you in very high regard academically, and that respect extends to all aspects of your work. If I ever notice any shortcomings, I will address them so you have the opportunity to refine and grow.”

His expression softened, a touch of concern in his eyes. “The only issue I see here is that you are doubting yourself. Your achievements and the praise you receive are well-deserved. You have a remarkable ability, and I believe in your potential. My only hope is that you start to see in yourself what I see in you – a brilliant, dedicated student who deserves every bit of recognition they receive.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief and a renewed confidence. When I looked down at my lap I heard him continue:

“And of course I value the relationship we have fostered outside of class. Would I be the man I am today if you hadn’t introduced me to the wonders of Moroccan cuisine?” He tried to joke to ease the tension and unsurprisingly it worked as it earned him a soft chuckle of honest amusement.

“Theres the y/n I know and love” he bantered though I cant say my heart didn’t skip a beat at the mention of the word “love”.

“You know, there are many other cuisines you’re yet to try,” I said with a playful glint in my eye. “For someone who’s so well-traveled and cultured, it’s surprising how much you’ve missed out on when it comes to food.” I teased.

“Well, perhaps you’ll tell me all about it when we’re in Amsterdam for the debate competition,” he said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine excitement.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You secured that for us?” My voice wavered slightly as my heart leaped with joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m so excited. This is incredible news!”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I thought you’d like that. It’s an excellent opportunity, and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

I couldn’t help but beam, my excitement bubbling over. “This is amazing, truly. Thank you so much!” I stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness and dedication.

As I reached out, our hands brushed briefly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. His gaze softened, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m just glad we get to share this experience together,” he said softly.

The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken words and mutual appreciation. I nodded, my heart full of gratitude and warmth. “Me too,” I murmured, feeling the depth of our connection more than ever before.

Time jump – December is getting ready for Christmas.

As we stepped into the hotel lobby, the excitement was palpable among the debate team. Amsterdam was already charming me, even though I’d only glimpsed it through the bus window. The streets were lined with picturesque canals and quaint buildings, each one more enchanting than the last. I couldn’t help but talk animatedly about how I’d dreamed of visiting the Netherlands ever since my father told me stories about the blooming flower fields when I was a child.

Harry, who had been sitting beside me on the bus, watched with a fond smile. “You really seem to love the city,” he said. “Maybe we could find a couple of free days between the training and the competition to visit the flower fields.”

My eyes widened in delight. “Really? That would be incredible. But managing a whole field trip with the debate team might be a bit complicated.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we could go alone. Just you and me. A little escape from the team.” He added. “We could explore some other things too if we’d like.”

The thought of spending time alone with him, wandering through a sea of flowers, made my heart race. I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “That sounds amazing. I’d love that.”

When we checked into the hotel and were given our room keys, Anika, my vice president, and I realized that Harry and I had rooms on a separate floor. In fact, they were deluxe rooms though him and I booked standard rooms for everyone when we went over the budget. Anika seemed particularly perplexed by this.

“Why did you get such a nice room and I didn’t?” Anika questioned, her tone tinged with curiosity as she approached me in the lobby.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe Mr. Styles thought I needed a little extra comfort. You know, as president” I joked, not really sure if that was the case. “Besides, he probably just had to make decisions based on what was available.” I found myself lying, knowing I was curious myself.”

Anika raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s using the budget money to splurge on you. I’ve noticed you two have become quite friendly. Could it be that he has a thing for you?” she teased, knowing I have spent months pining and flirting.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so, Anika. We’re friends, and that’s all it is. I don’t think he feels anything else.” I said, confidant of my words for the first time in this conversation. “Plus, you are the only person other than me and Harry that got her own room. Others are sharing and you likely have a king bed all to yourself.”

“Harry? Is that his name now?” she smirked. “I guess you forgot to tell me you are on a first name basis. Are you holding out on me Y/L/N?” she joked though she was never oblivious to the fact that you kept some encounters with Harry to yourself, as if it would fuel the fantasy somehow.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful grin. “Oh, come on. You have to admit everyone in the poetry society calls him that when we are outside the university.” I said, knowing that it was only one guy who was a family friend of Harry’s who got the honor.

She chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Right. But you can’t deny there’s something a bit… special about how you two interact. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not holding my breath for anything more on this trip. We’re here for the debate, remember? That’s the focus. But if anything happens later…” I shrugged playfully as she returned my knowing smile.

“Fair enough. Just keep your eyes open anyway, okay? Sometimes things happen when you least expect them to.”

I heard Harry calling my name from the end of the hall. I turned around to see him walking towards me with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, do you still want to gather the debate team for a brief practice session before the afternoon debate?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. You were right; they need a break. Plus, everyone has their notecards and seems prepared.”

Harry nodded, his smile relaxing into a satisfied grin. “Alright then. Let’s head to the elevator; it’ll be a bit quieter now anyway.”

We walked to the elevator together, and once inside, he pressed the button for my floor. The confined space seemed to amplify the gentle hum of the elevator, making it feel intimate.

Harry glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “Your hair looks different today. Did you do something special with it?” he asked, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

I felt a tinge of embarrassment, my cheeks warming slightly. “I just blow-dried it differently since I was in a rush this morning,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Harry’s smile grew, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Well, it looks beautiful. I wouldn’t have guessed it was rushed.”

His compliment made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me feel a lot better about this hectic morning” I tried to divert the conversation, feeling nervous at his focus on me.

“Yeah, well, at least you have matching socks,” he joked, and before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he lifted his foot, revealing his own mismatched socks with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You and your accidental fashion choices,” I said, shaking my head with a smile, remembering that time I complimented his shoes only to find out he ordered the wrong ones online and couldn’t get them returned. He looked handsome in them anyway, I had told him.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And besides, it’s a good thing someone’s got their fashion game on point around here.” He said, brushing off the fact that it was a rushed accident.

I playfully nudged him. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. And for the record, I do have matching socks today, just in case you were wondering.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at me, a warmth in his gaze that made my heart flutter. “Well, I must say, your socks are a lot less distracting than mine.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease into something more comfortable and light-hearted.

As the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to my floor, Harry didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Let me walk you to your room. It’s the least I can do. After all, it’s not every day I get to be a gentleman,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that his room was directly across from the elevator.

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too kind, Harry. It’s just down the hall here,” I said, gesturing toward my door, which was a short distance away from his.

As we walked together down the hallway, the atmosphere felt lighter, filled with a quiet, pleasant tension. Harry’s presence beside me was comforting, and I found myself appreciating the little things—like how he occasionally glanced my way, as if trying to make the moment last just a bit longer.

When we reached my door, Harry reached out and brushed his hand lightly against mine as he opened the door for me. “Even so, a little extra time with you—well, when else can I talk about my accidental shenanigans and have someone listen intently?” His voice was low and warm, and his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words but remained blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his gaze. “Well,” I said, smiling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks for walking me. It’s always nice to have a bit of company, especially when the company is as pleasant as yours.”

Harry’s smile grew softer, and he took a step back, still holding my gaze. “Anytime, y/n. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.

“You too, Harry.” I said as he walked back to his own room.

——————————————————————

PART TWO IS NOW UP 🌷🌷

[minhosbitterriver]

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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[eddiesxangel]

Wildflower Pt.2 | Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!Princess Reader

Summary: After your breakup with Eddie, you got everything you’d ever wanted. The career, the success, the fame, but something was still missing.

Cw: no use of y/n reader is referred by pet names. Eddie x Afab girly girl reader, no descriptions of reader is used other than what they are wearing (we like to keep it inclusive in this house) ANGST mentions mental health struggles, prescription medication, alcohol consumption, mentions of weight loss due to mental health issues, mentions of underage drinking, SMUT soft Dom Eddie, daddy kink? FLUFF so much you might wanna vomit lol, pregnancy 👀

WC: 22.5k lol

Read part 1 here

Rain, he wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain. He wanted a bride I was making my own name.Chasing that fame. He stayed the same. All of me changed like midnight.

As you stepped off the stage of the last show of your sold-out stadium tour, the adrenaline rush pulsed through your veins. Happy tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. You have been working your ass off these past four years. 

Four Years. 

It has been four years since your career took off and hasn’t stopped—four years since your single went number one for thirty-six weeks straight on Billboard 100. Four years since you last saw Eddie. The way you'd left things haunts you to this day.

The first year after the breakup was the hardest. You were nothing but a shell of yourself; you put on a front with everyone. If you let yourself think about Eddie, you wouldn’t have been able to climb out of the hole you had dug yourself out of. You couldn’t muster up the motivation to do anything for yourself when alone. You worked and went home to sleep, wake up and repeat, like a machine. 

You stopped going to events you didn’t need to be at. You punish yourself by not allowing yourself to have any fun. You felt like you didn’t deserve it.

You had lost a lot of weight that year, unable to keep anything down. Your body was in severe malnutrition, and your doctor was worried. You were prescribed some medication to help stabilize your moods. You blamed it on stress, that the job was the problem, brushing it off like you would get over it eventually, or at least that is what you told yourself. That was your life the year you and Eddie broke up.

Eventually, as the years went on, you found better ways to cope with the loss of Eddie and Violet Rose in your life. Slowly, you started dating again about a year later, but everything was different from what you experienced with Eddie. You didn’t have that spark you felt with Eddie. But was that real? Or was it all built up? 

Seeing Eddie back in the limelight as a single man broke your heart, and seeing him taking out different girls was so painful it made you physically sick. You first saw him out with another woman only two months after you ended things… Did he even really love you? You'd convinced yourself that Eddie must have been caught up with everything that he only thought he was in love with you? And now that you were out of the picture, he realized that it was just lust, nothing more... because how did it only take two months until he was out with another woman? 

The hardest part about this was avoiding him at all the award shows and parties. Your worlds were intertwined, your label was the same, your career had taken off after the breakup, and you were invited to more Hollywood events. It was difficult when you knew he was in the room with you, especially with another girl by his side.

You were still so desperately in love with him after all this time…

It was never the same girl; he was back to his old ways, sleeping around with anyone who got the chance. But luckily, you never ran into him because the second you got word he was there, you were gone, making your last memory of him when he walked out of the door in Italy. You had shattered his heart. Broke it into a million pieces, or so you thought. He told you he was in love with you, and you couldn’t say it back. Year after year, things started to get easier; once the tabloids got bored about the breakup and Eddie was seen with different women, the focus was no longer on you. You had thrown yourself into your songs.

Your songs became #1 hits less than a week after each release. You had been that good, a bit too good. Your work was the only thing you let yourself focus on. Everything had to be great, or all of this would have been for nothing. The more writing you did, the more focused you were on your music and the less time you had to think about Eddie. That was the whole point of the breakup, right? Because you used Eddie only to help your career… 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Life for Eddie Munson over the past four years had been the worst of his entire life, and he once had been addicted to coke. He did not expect his early forties would be so…depressing. When you had ended things with him, he never felt that kind of earth-shattering heartbreak before, not when his second try at passing his senior year didn’t pan out, not when Sarafina left him alone with their baby, and not when his parents abandoned him. 

He was too stubborn to grovel; you had told him that you clearly were just doing this for yourself. He had let his emotions get in the way; it was all his fault. He saw that now. He knew that you loved him back, but he was scorned. He wouldn’t be the one to reach out. The story was out; nothing more could be done. He didn’t have the heart to give up the ring he had bought for you. Night after night, Eddie would sit up and stare at it. He hugged your pillow because your scent lingered in the room until one day, it was gone. 

One morning, a few weeks after the breakup, Eddie was awakened to the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafting through the house; for a split second, he thought you had returned to him. He ran downstairs looking for you, but reality hit like a brick when he followed the scent to the kitchen to see Vi had ordered Cinnabon to the house. She offered him his share, thinking it would cheer him up, but it had only made Eddie nauseous. He could no longer stomach the sweet smell that reminded him of you.

Longing for you to be by his side, he cried night after night, hating himself for feeling so pathetic and unwanted. That’s how his whole life was; he should have known better. His parents didn’t want him, and the mother of his child didn’t want him, so what would make you any different? 

Your breakup not only affected Eddie’s life but also Violet Rose’s. Scorned by how you never even said goodbye, she was hurt. She begged Eddie to let her talk to you, but Eddie refused to speak your name. Your music no longer brought her joy; only waves of sadness washed over her when she heard you on the radio. She couldn’t escape; you haunted her just as much as you haunted Eddie. 

Violet Rose felt the change in her father when he got back from his vacation in Italy. She was so excited to see him; she missed the both of you profoundly, but when she greeted her dad when he returned, she could sense something was off. When she went to let off her hug, and he didn't, she knew. She could feel how tense he was, how tightly he held onto her. The way he almost let a tear slip and the sniffle he made in her ear gave it away. He hadn't reacted like this when he was away from her for months on tour the year prior. When he finally let go of her, she needn't ask. She knew his eyes were bloodshot and swollen; he wasn't bubbly and didn't hum anymore. She knew her father's heart wasn't the same. 

The older Vi got, the more she resented her father for not ever letting her know who her birth mother was. On top of that, she wasn’t allowed to talk about you. She didn’t understand why because Eddie never explained what happened. All she knew was that before he left for Italy, he had asked her if it would be okay if you were to be in their lives permanently. He showed her the pink diamond ring. The ring that to this day still sits in Eddie’s bedside table drawer. She had found it a few weeks back while trying to find the weed she knew her dad had hidden somewhere when he caught her smoking by the pool. 

That was the last straw for Violet Rose. Violet Rose no longer cared about consequences after seeing the reminder of why their lives had changed so dramatically. You didn’t, so why should she? You made her think that you never cared. How could you be so cruel to just leave her? You were going to be her Mom. She had believed that she was finally going to get a mother; the one thing she craved the most her whole life was ripped out from under her. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Tonight was the night of a new club opening, and Roger ensured you were on the VIP list, not that it took much convincing for you to go. You wanted to get dolled up and have some fun with your girlfriends. You pre-gamed and got ready at your best friend Serena's house tonight. 

Over the last few months, you've been feeling much better, finally getting out of the house for more than just work. You started seeing your friends more than twice a year, attending dinners and events with them. You were also being weaned off of your medication because your Dr. decided that your mind and body were going back to your old self, and you insisted you were feeling better.

"Tonight we are finding you a man!” you announced as you blended the pink blusher onto your cheek. 

"Me? How about you, Ms. Chronically single?" she laughed, sipping her drink that smelled like gasoline. All you could do was roll your eyes. It had become easier thinking about Eddie, but it was still a sore subject you didn't speak of much.

"Oh, don't be like that; it was a million years ago," she giggled. The alcohol Serena was downing played a part in being so bold to bring it up. She had met you two years after the breakup; she didn’t know the whole story but knew it was terrible. Nobody knew the story but your parents and Eddie.

“Fine, tonight I will be reckless and throw all caution to the wind." You took a shot of tequila. The burn was quickly chased by the taste of lime. A loud cheer came from your best friend and twirled you around her bedroom. Laughing, you told her you needed her help picking out an outfit. You both decided on the strappy open-back hot pink silk minidress that made you feel like ten million bucks and your hot pink Louis Vuitton heels that matched the exact colour of the dress. Fitting for a Club named The Red Bottom’s. 

Tonight, you felt like you needed to celebrate, wondering what you were celebrating, maybe because you made it out alive? Becoming yourself again? All the hard work you've put in the past four years? You didn't know... what you did know was tonight you were having fun. 

Walking into the dimly lit club named The Red Bottom’s you could feel the beat of the music pulse through your veins as you watched the different colours light up the dance floor. It was packed already, and it was only midnight. You grabbed your friend's hand and dragged her to the bar. Ordering your shots, you pull out your wallet, but the bartender stops you. "Already covered" He nodded his head over to the other end of the bar, and you both made eye contact with two guys. 

From what you could tell, they were about your age, tall, fit, typical Hollywood, and so not your type. Serena grabbed your hand and pulled you over. You checked your phone to see where the rest of your group was, and they told you they had a booth on the left side of the club. 

"Thanks for the drinks." Serena batted her eyes and smiled as you stood by. They introduced themselves; their names were Patrick and Ray. The more you stood with them, the more antsy you got about wanting to get with the rest of the group. 

"Love the new song, by the way." Your head snaps up from your phone, and you give the guy talking a small smile. "Thanks." Great, just another try-hard trying to get into your pants. Trying hard not to roll your eyes, you look to Serena and let her know you're joining the rest of the group. 

Finally breaking through the sea of people on the dance floor, you made your way to the booth tucked away in the back corner. A slew of cheers filled your ears as you approached your friends. 

Serena returned to the booth five minutes later with the two guys on her tail. 

"You promised me," She whispered, climbing up to you. 

"I did promise you, but I didn't promise it would be with one of these two.” You nodded your head in the men’s direction. Serena gave you an annoyed huff. 

"Ok, look, you know that none of them are even my type; you have all the fun you want! Hell, take them both.” You giggled. “I will still be scouting." With that, she laughed and told you to go have a fun time. As you settled with your drink, she went to the dance floor. 

You didn't take long to rejoin Serena for a dance after you finished your cocktail. Scouting the crowd for a man didn’t take much either; being who you are and being in the hottest new club, it didn’t take long for you to find a guy. Your newfound confidence radiated from you, and you spotted him across the room. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. If you were to look it up in the dictionary, this man’s picture would be there. His rugged, rough edges had you hooked the moment your eyes met. Biting your lip, you wiggled your finger to get him to come to you. It had been so long since you last danced with someone like this. You were excited, and it felt good. This man towered over you, feeling his body swallow you, and he ground his hips against yours. Serena gave you a wink of approval; all she wanted was for you to have fun and let go. 

It felt like you had been dancing for hours. You needed a break and another drink, so you returned to the booth. As you try to make your way back, not looking like baby Bambi holding on to a tall, dark, and handsome man, you discover his name is Maddox; you accidentally bump into someone. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!'" You turn to apologize. 

“Watch where you are going, Bitch” she slurred over the music. 

“Excuse you?” You turn to get a good look at who it is, and you feel your heart in your throat.  You look like you have seen a ghost as all the blood from your face drains. You drop Maddox��s hand and bring it up to your mouth. There she was. Four years since she saw you last. However, you would know that face from anywhere. 

Violet Rose was staring at you. Dumbfounded. Her big brown doe eyes go wide, still precisely like her father’s, at the realization of who you are, and then her face drops into more of a scowl. Looking confused, the much older man standing beside her wraps his arm around her protectively. 

You instinctively grab her hand to pull her away. “Hey, get your hands off of her,” The guy yells over the loud bass. He is definitely your age or older.

“I’ll let you know she is sixteen,” you scowl. The guy's hand shoots up off of Violet, and he practically runs away from the both of you.

“How dare you! How could you do this to us?!” She screamed, finally breaking. 

“I’m trying to protect you!” It was so hard to yell over the music.

“Not him!” She flails her arms in the creep's direction. “To me and Dad!” 

She was causing a scene, and you didn’t know what to do; your emotions took over, and you wrapped your arms around the little girl your heart yearned for. 

“I am so sorry, baby. Please forgive me?” You broke, you missed her and her father so much. Even though you weren’t her mother, you were the closest thing she had for a little while. You’re not sure how long you’re hugging her, crying, in the middle of a nightclub when the reality of where you were clicked in.

"What the hell are you even doing in here?! We are leaving!” You were furious; how on earth was she let into a club? When the fuck did she grow up to become a woman? And how was she allowed to leave the house dressed like this? You didn’t even own stilettos that high.

Violet Rose felt all the blood drain from her face. She was in so much trouble. 

“Your father know where you are?” You arched your brows at her.

“Poppy, look, don’t tell my Dad! Please? I’ll go home right now, I swear,” She begged. 

“Absolutely not, get.” You pointed towards the exit and called Tony to bring your car to the front. You didn’t even say goodbye to Serena or Tall, dark and handsome; you just beelined the both of you to the door.  

You stop by the club promoter and bouncers outside as you exit the club. “I don’t know what kind of place you think you are running, but letting in a sixteen-year-old?!” You yell, drawing attention to yourself. Even though it was two in the morning, there were still paps all around, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars entering and exiting The Red Bottoms. The flashing lights were blinding, but you couldn't care less at this moment.

“I'm going to sue this place! I should call the cops for letting in minors! Better yet, I’ll tell her father! Do you know who her father is? Eddie Munson, that’s who!” You shoved your pointer finger into the chest of the club promoter and looked at you blankly.

When you turned, you saw Violet Rose standing there, embarrassed at the commotion you had just made. She looked so small as you walked back over to her; even though she had grown into a beautiful young woman, she was starting to look like her mother. The mother she never got a chance to get to know. You wondered if she knows now that she is older? 

“Get in the car.” You point at your pink G Wagon. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” She hugs her arms around herself.

“Nice try, in.” You were not falling for this act; you had been sixteen once, too. 

“What about your guy?” She asked, deflecting. 

“What guy?” You totally forgot about Tall Dark and Handsome. 

“You were with a guy when I bumped into you and-”

“And called me a bitch?” You finished her sentence. “I don’t know. I met him half an hour ago.” You brushed it off.

“Oh, so you’re not with anyone?” You saw a hint of sparkle in her eye. 

“Violet Rose get. in. the. car.” You are not having this conversation with her right now surrounded by paps.

“Fine.” Violet Rose got into the car. A small part of her was happy to see you again; she just wished they were in different circumstances. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie jolted awake in a cold sweat; his heart sank as he glanced at the clock that read 2:47 a.m. He knew something was wrong as he jumped out of bed, not bothering to put on pants, running out of his room in only his underwear and rushed to Violet Roses's room. He opened the door to see that her window was open and she wasn’t there. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit” He had a guttural instinct that VR wasn’t here, but he had to check everywhere. 

He first checked her bathroom to see if she had gotten up. She begged him to stay home with her tonight because she was sick. He was supposed to attend a club opening tonight, but how could he leave his Cupcake? Especially when she gave him the puppy dog eyes? They may not have been getting along recently, but he still was the biggest pushover when it came to her. 

They had a good night, other than the fact that she was sick; it was like old times. They curled up on the couch and watched movies; he made her soup, and they enjoyed one another’s company. Something that hasn’t happened in a long time. It made Eddie realize that it was too long; he had been moping around for too long and needed to change, or he would lose VR forever. 

Eddie frantically ran to every other room of the house, calling out her name when he didn’t find her in the bathroom. He was shaking with panic. 

Eddie went back to his bedroom to check his phone to see if he missed any calls or texts, but not one was from Violet Rose or about her. Where the fuck was she? As he calls her phone repeatedly, he runs outside to see if she is out there. Ring after ring, the phone goes to voicemail. He had reached the end of the driveway behind the gate that was still closed. His heart skipped a beat when he saw two headlights of a bubblegum pink G Wagon pulling up to the gates of his estate. He instinctively knows that gaudy thing has to belong to you.

With a deep breath, Eddie opened the gate. The driver slowly pulled up and got out to open the door. Violet Rose is the first to step out and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. She is home, and she is safe. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, but all that relief washes away the second he sees you step out of the car behind her. 

He can feel the anxiety shooting through his arms to the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t understand what is happening. Was Violet Rose hanging out with you behind his back? Was she trying to get back at him? Why would his baby be with you? And why was his baby dressed like that?! 

“Start talking” is all Eddie manages to get out through his teeth. His hands balled up into fists, trying to regulate his breathing. 

You open your mouth to start to explain what happened, but the sight of Eddie standing there in his boxers, chest heaving, you get too overwhelmed at the sight. There is no denying that your attraction to Eddie is still there. You had been mesmerized by the way he looked; his crow's feet were a bit more defined, he was accepting his silver hairs coming in, his skin was pebbled with goosebumps as it was early spring in the middle of the night, and he was practically naked. He was still just as fit, maybe even more so, fuck he made 44 look good. So you stand there with your mouth agape, gawking at him like a moron, until Violet Rose cuts in.

“Hi, Daddy,” it had come out so meek.

“Don’t hi, Daddy. WHERE WERE YOU?” he belted. His face was beat red. You had never seen or heard Eddie so mad, not even on that dreaded day. 

“I found her at the Red Bottom's,” You cut in, giving some slack for Violet Rose. 

“The Red Bottom's? THE RED BOTTOM'S!” It hits him: the new club downtown that he was supposed to attend tonight for the grand opening but didn’t attend because Vi was “sick” and needed to take care of her.

“Inside now.” He was seething, pointing towards the house. Things did not look good for VR. You took that as your cue to leave as you saw her sulk off to the house with her head down. Turning back to the car, you think to yourself this was it. This was your only chance to see him again, and you stood there like a brainless zombie, just ogling him.

“I didn’t dismiss you.” You stop mid-stride and turn slowly as his deep voice filters through your ears. 

“Excuse me?” You question, slowly turning back around.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie was still seething.

“What am I doing?” You countered back.

“Violet Rose is sneaking off to be with you behind my back! How long has this been going on!?” He accused. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Eddie?” Hearing his name leave your lips was like a gut punch.

“This is all your fault!” He accused again.

“Oh, this is my fault?! How is this my fault? You’re lucky I spotted her and dragged her ass home! You don’t even want to know who she was with when I found her! You’re lucky I did because if I hadn’t, she would still be there doing god knows what with who knows what!” You got in his face. How dare he accuse you of bringing harm to her! You love that kid more than life like she is your own. 

“You know what?!” He counters back.

“What?!” You yell.

What Eddie did next was something so unexpected that it caught you off guard.

“Thank you.” He pulled you into a bear hug. “I was so scared; I didn’t know where she was.” He confessed in a whisper because you were right. Who knows what could have happened to his baby? He was so distraught and mad about the past, but you put his family first after all these years. 

“Eddie, I am so sorry. For everything.” You whisper, finally reciprocating the hug by latching your arms around him. He still smelled the same; it brought comfort, wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you never wanted to leave.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He shook his head, releasing you. In his fit of rage, he didn’t get to take you in. Fuck. You were more beautiful to him than memories served. 

“No, Eddie. I mean for everything.” You looked down, ashamed that you let things go this far. 

“Oh. I am sorry, too.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I uh, fuck - I’ll always love you, and uh and Violet. You know that? Right?” You look up at him with glassy eyes, tears threatening to break free. The words he prayed to hear for the past four years finally left your lips. He didn’t know what to think or say. “And I still- shit. I’m sorry you don’t want me- I’m going to go.” You turn, but Eddie catches your forearm to pull you back into him. 

“I let you leave once; don’t for a second think that I am going to let you go again.” 

Not giving it a second thought, Eddie crashed his lips into yours, and everything fell back into place at that moment. The missing puzzle piece had been found and restored back into its space.

“Angel, I am still so in love with you; you’re my entire world. Always have been. Always will be.” He mumbled against your mouth. Eddie could no longer be mad at you; he would not waste another moment on being angry and sad. The last few years of his life were full of it, and he was ready to let that all go because here you are, telling him you love him.

“I’m so sorry, Baby.” You let your tears finally slip past your lashes. 

The closure you had been craving was no longer gnawing at your mind. Eddie loves you and never has stopped long you. You had wasted so much time being sad and lonely. But could it really just be that easy? He would accept you back just like that? So much time has passed, and you are not the same people from four years ago. 

“So what now?” You asked, pulling back. 

“You’re mine.” Eddie pulled you back in to kiss you; he had so much lost time to make up for.

“Eddie, I- what about everything? Do you even trust me? I wouldn’t trust me…” You looked down as the feeling of shame washed over you. You were so stupid for letting him go. 

“Angel, look at me.” He hooked a finger under your chin. No one has called you that name since you left Eddie. Hearing it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “We will have to work on things, but I am not ever letting you go. I won’t survive if I have to lose you again. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sir.” Your eyes widen as the words slip past your lips. It was instinct to address him that way.

“That's my good girl” He gave a cocky smirk and leaned in to kiss you. He couldn’t get enough; his lifeline had been restored. All of the sadness within him was being plucked away with each brush of your lips.

Sure, you and Eddie had a lot to work on, but Eddie didn’t care.  He had his girl back, his Angel. Things wouldn’t return to normal immediately; he knew that… you knew that. Eddie thought about how he would have to cancel the “date” he had set up for tomorrow as you gave him a last kiss goodbye. Watching you get back into the car was hard, but then he remembered that he had to deal with VR. What the fuck was this night turning into? 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Eddie walked back into the house to see Violet Rose sitting on the staircase.

“Daddy, do you think?” She was hopeful that what she saw through the window could lead to something more. Something that could bring her family back together. 

“Don’t change the subject.” His head was spinning; he didn’t need to discuss his love life with his sixteen-year-old right after she had snuck out of the house. 

“No phone, no TV, no internet, no going out. You go to school, and you come home. That is final.” 

“What?! That’s so unfair. For how long?!” She cried. 

“Until I say so. Phone, now.” He held out his hand, and she reluctantly placed it on his palm. 

“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again?! Got it! Now apologize.” He commanded.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry for sneaking out tonight.” She smirked.

“Excuse you?” Eddie was shocked.

“If I hadn’t gone out tonight, she wouldn’t have brought me home, and you wouldn’t have that stupid smile on your face.” 

“What stupid smile?” Eddie scowled just to prove a point. 

“Nice try, old man, can’t fool me; I saw you walking up the driveway.” Violet Rose laughed as she made her way up the stairs. Maybe her punishment wouldn’t be so bad if her dad was finally happy again. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The next day, you had been flooded with missed calls from Roger, and the press had a feel day with your little outburst, all of it being caught on TMZ, of course. 

“Sweetheart, what did you do?” You could no longer avoid the sixth call from him. 

“Look, Rog, I had a lot of alcohol, and Violet Rose was there; she is only sixteen. What was I supposed to do?-” 

“Nothing,” Roger cut in.

“Absolutely not. I have morals, Roger.” You could just picture how he was sitting at his desk, pinching his brows because you knew you were giving him a headache. 

“Look, everyone is going to be poking around, thinking you and Munson are back together. Now I know that contract has ended an-” 

“We are back together,” you cut him off. There was a few seconds of silence because he needed to process what you had just said.

“What?” He asked. 

“I said Eddie and I are back together. For real, no contracts, no bullshit.” You couldn’t get the stupid grin off of your face if you had tried. 

“Oh, well, um, wow, this is unexpected; I’m so happy for you!"  

“Really?” Your voice went up an octave.

“Of course, sweetheart, this is excellent news; I have been worried about you; something in you changed, and you tried to cover it up, but I know you… and also will bring up more publicity. Everyone loves it when couples get back together! Look at J-Lo and Affleck; no one could stop talking about them for weeks!” 

“Well, I guess this whole nightclub thing will blow over?” You wince, biting your thumb.

“Should be fine; when are you announcing your relationship? How long has it been?” Roger questioned.

“Oh, um, well, it just happened last night, so let's give it a few weeks and see how things play out…” fuck, this was not supposed to be another publicity stunt. 

“Understandable. I’ll contact you in a few days to see what’s happening, OK? Kisses” 

“Bye Rog” You hung up the phone to see Eddie was calling you.

Eddie asked you to meet up with him today and go on a walk to clear up things. You felt an overwhelming sense of being home when he opened his door. He was still in the same house, and it looked like only a little visually had changed over the years. 

Eddie greeted you with a hug and a kiss that lingered for a while. The familiarity of his lips on yours gave you an overwhelming sense of comfort. He made you feel at home. 

Eddie took your hand and closed the door behind him, ready to go. 

You just walked through the neighbourhood, having it be a gated community; no one would bother the two of you. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Same, but I’m happy that it is.” Eddie brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of your hand.

“I don’t really know where to begin…” you trailed off, looking out at the California skyline. 

“Let’s start off with how have you been?” Eddie genuinely asked.

“Honestly, I’ve been doing much better than I had been over the last few years. I was in an awful place after it all happened. I wanted to talk with you badly but knew you hated me.” You looked down at your shoes, still ashamed about how you left things. 

“I could never hate you, Angel. I was stubborn and so hard-headed that I refused to grovel. But I regret every day that passed that I didn’t try to get you back.” Eddie admitted.

“Really?” You look at him with shock. You had convinced yourself that Eddie was never in love with you that the thought of him being heartbroken escaped your mind. 

“Of course, Angel. Don’t you remember where I was taking you when… uh-”

“When I ran away…. Yeah, I remember. But I convinced myself that it was just... I don't know? lust…” 

“Hmmm,” that caught Eddie off guard. What could he have done to make you think he wasn’t being raw and honest with you? 

Eddie debated whether he should tell you about the ring as you walked in uncomfortable silence. He decided against it; he felt it wouldn’t be right. 

“I never asked how you have been?” You look to Eddie as he is lost in thought. 

“Bad. No sense in lying to you. I’m sure Vi will tell you eventually.” He sighed. 

Your heart dropped at his confession. He seemed to be doing well. He was the hottest bachelor at the moment. 

“I feel like a broken record, but I’m truly sorry, Eddie. I was such a mess after everything, and I thought you hated me, so I couldn’t talk to you, and it got so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. My doctor put me on meds because I literally didn’t want to do anything, and I missed you and Violet Rose so bad! I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. Not to make this about me, but I just wanted to let you know my decision was wrong, and I hated myself daily. And I will try my best to make it up to both of you. I promise I’ll never leave you like that ever again…. That's if you’ll have me.” 

“Your doctor put you on medication?” He looked at you with concern. 

“Ugh, yeah. I’m slowly coming off of them now; it’s been about two months. I’m feeling a lot better.” You admit

“Jesus Angel. You should have told me! I would have done anything for you, you know that, right?” He said as he pulled you into a hug. 

“I do now,” you whisper. 

“And I’m sorry as well. I should have never yelled at you like that. I felt awful the second I left you standing there alone in that big empty house… I sold it, by the way… I couldn’t go back. The memories were too… sour.” He looked down to his chest. 

“Well, I can’t stomach Italian food anymore… makes me sick even thinking about it.” You admit with a  shudder, trying to lighten the mood.

“And I can’t eat Cinnamon Rolls anymore because of you,” he admits. 

You look at him quizzically.

“Reminded me too much of your perfume… it uh… made me sick whenever I smelled vanilla and cinnamon.” He shrugged

You looked at him with such sorrow. The both of you were so fucked up by what happened. How could you ever work through this? There was so much hurt to overcome.

“Enough about the past. We are on the same page. We have years to make up for.” Eddie brought your lips to him for a gentle kiss. You wanted so badly to deepen the kiss, but you were in the middle of the suburbs, and any stay-at-home mom desperate for gossip could clock the two of you in a second.

Eddie pulled away, and you made your way back to his place. Once you arrived, Eddie invited you inside. 

“So where is the little criminal?” You asked, entering the living room. Memories flood back to when you would have sleepovers and make forts and Disney movie marathons. 

“Present.” She came waltzing through from the kitchen. 

“Hi Vi,” you walk over to her to embrace her in a hug. It shouldn’t have surprised you when she didn’t hug you back. 

“I’m so sorry for how I left things, but I don’t know how much your dad told you?” You look to Eddie and see him shake his head no. “I, uh, I think you are old enough to know some details?” You and Eddie discussed on your way back home that VR also had to be on board for this to work. She had to know the truth. 

“Come sit, Cupcake.” Eddie patted the couch cushion next to him.

You and Eddie then explained how, at first, the entire thing was a sham, but you ended up falling for one another in the end, but things had to break off because of the contract. 

“You’re joking?” That was Violet Rose’s first response. 

“Unfortunately not,” You speak up. 

“That is the most fucked up and stupid thing I think I’ve ever heard.” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey, language. Don’t make me extend your punishment.” Eddie pointed to her.

“I’m sorry, but you’re telling me I am supposed to believe you two broke up because of a piece of paper?” She stares dumbfounded.

“Well, yeah, that’s what happened…” Eddie shifted his gaze to you. 

“And you didn’t think to... I don't know? SNEAK AROUND?!” She flailed her arms in the air.

“Uh… no, actually, that never crossed my mind.” Eddie looked at you, and you shrugged.

“You don’t get it. Cupcake things were not that black and white; it was complicated.” 

“Whatever, can I go to my room now?” She rolled her eyes. 

“Fine, go.” Eddie sighed. 

“Don't worry, she will come around eventually. She was excited last night and started questioning if we would be back together.” Eddie smirked. 

That made you feel better; you would hate for Violet Rose not to see you in the same light as before. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A month passed, and yours and Eddie’s schedules conflicted. You were recording your new album, and Eddie was busy with the band. Nothing had been coordinated until today, your first official date, and you told Eddie you were planning the whole thing because it was the least you could do for him. 

You drove to Eddie’s house mid-afternoon to pick him up. 

“Absolutely not.” As you pulled up in your baby pink vintage convertible Cadillac, he shook his head. Eddie Munson may be a sim, however, he still has an image to keep up with. He would not be seen being chauffeured in a pink car, especially by his woman. He was old school, and he would be the one driving them.

“What do you mean?” You pout. God, he was such a sucker for that face you pull, but he would stand his ground. 

“I’m driving,” Eddie stated plainly. 

“But I’m the one treating you.” You state. 

“Don’t care. Not going in that gaudy thing.” He crossed his arms. 

You roll your eyes as you unwillingly step out of the car. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see that.” His tone was serious, but his eyes said otherwise as he took your hand and kissed the top of it. 

“Hi, Princess.” He smiled 

“Hi, Baby.” Everything felt right again like nothing had changed. 

“Just tell me where we are going.” Eddie walked around to the passenger side to open the door for you. You ignored his request as you got into his black Bentley Continental. You punched the address into the GPS and were on your way.  

“Le Labo?” Eddie questions when you arrive at the destination. 

“It’s a custom perfumery. Since you said you can’t stomach mine anymore, I called and made an appointment to make one for each other?” You bite your nails in anticipation. Did he hate the idea? Was it too boring? 

“This is not what I was expecting at all, Angel, but this is really cool.” he pulled you into his side as you walked into the building. 

After smelling all the smells and finally deciding on a concoction for one another, your perfumes were complete, and you could take them home. For Eddie’s, you choose notes of nutmeg, white musk, and jasmine. You named his Dungeon Master. Eddie picked a more floral scent for yours with notes of tuberose, jasmine, and tonka bean and called it Angel Wings. He made you wear it as soon as you stepped out of the perfumery.  

The next stop for your date was your house. Eddie had never been to your home. You managed to buy one two years ago and were able to sell your condo. You were happy to have a new space, one with happy memories. 

You managed to snag a bungalow in Bel-Air for just under five million. It needed some updating, so you’ve been slowly making renovations. It was almost done to your liking; you just had to finish up the guest bathroom, and then it would be perfect. 

The whole house was very you. In the kitchen was your favourite part of the home. The cabinets and countertops were white, and the backsplash, appliances, and cookware were all pink. The house was an open concept, which you loved; it was very light and airy with little clutter, but it looked homey. It's very much the exact opposite of Eddie’s interior decor. There were floor-to-ceiling windows all over that let in a lot of natural light. You had a massive sectional in the living room that you often fell asleep on because it was that comfortable. Your favourite part of the house was the living room that opened into the back patio, which led into the pool. Your garden was lush and complete; a giant hedge that acted as a privacy wall surrounded the yard so no one could see in. It was your own little piece of paradise. 

“I didn't know you moved?” Eddie asked, pulling into your driveway. 

“How could you’ve?” Even though the two of you had made up, the wounds were still fresh. You didn’t mean anything by your comment, but you sensed it irked Eddie. 

“I’m sorry-

“Angel, if you apologize one more time,” he gives you a look of warning before stepping out of the car and running over to your side.

 Some things never change. 

“So what is next on the schedule?” Eddie asked as he followed you into your home. 

“Thought I could cook you dinner.” You smile as you lead the both of you into the kitchen. 

You hear Eddie chuckle behind you.

“What?” You turn, arms crossed, to see him examining your space.

“I expected nothing less from you.” He chuckled as he pulled you into him by the waist. 

Eddie leaned down to kiss you. This was the first kiss you shared since reuniting almost four weeks ago. You lean into it as you uncross your arms to wrap them around the back of his neck. The kiss was tentative at first, nothing but a small peck. Eddie tested the waters as he slowly leaned into you, but you needed more. You pressed into Eddie, raising your tiptoes to press yourself fully into him. He got the hint as his strong hands slipped from your jaw and cascaded down past your waist to grip your ass. A moan slipped from your lips as he massaged his hands into you. 

“Fuck, I missed your noises,” Eddie spoke into your mouth. 

“Mmhmm” you hummed.

“I need you, Angel.” Eddie rubbed his hardening length into your lower abdomen.

“What about dinner?” You pant into his open mouth.

“I’ve waited long enough for you; dinner can wait.” Eddie pushed you back into the kitchen counter, and you took no time tugging at the bottom of his shirt, frantically lifting it over his head. You latch your mouth where his neck meets his collar, nipping and biting until you’ve marked your territory. Eddie whimpered as your hand grazed over the tent his hardened bulge created. Never had Eddie whined like this just from your touch. Eddie froze, unsure what was happening; his body had never reacted this way with anyone. 

“Baby, you ok?” You whispered into his ear as your hand moulded around the thick shaft. There was a shift in the air; Eddie was at your mercy. He didn’t even correct you when you didn’t call him Sir. He nodded and swallowed hard. His heart was racing, his muscular chest was heaving up and down as you delicately traced your hands up to the button of his black trousers. 

“Fuck baby, don’t tease me. I-I-” he shakes his head in a daze.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you.” It’s the least you could do for him. You slide down to your knees, cadged between the kitchen cabinets and your boyfriend. You unzip his pants, and he shimmies out of them as fast as he can. Your mouth waters as Eddie's naked frame towers over you. His thick thighs flex as you run the tips of your long red nails over his flesh. You can see the defined muscle of his legs tighten as you get closer to the apex. 

“Tell me what you want baby.” You graze your glossy lips over the underbelly of his shaft up to the silver ball of his piercing that you craved when you were all alone in the middle of the night. 

“You,” he whispers as he cups your cheek with his right hand. 

“What part of me do you want, Eddie?” You look up at him with eyes glazed with lust. 

It’s been so long that you remember the first time you were on your knees for him. The thrill of the memory brings butterflies to your stomach. 

“All of you.” Eddie pants.

“Uh-uh, naughty boy. Don’t get greedy,” you smirk as you slowly run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Your mouth, Angel. Gimme your mouth. Please.” The anticipation broke when your mouth engulfed his long thick cock into your mouth, wholly. 

You tried your best to fit as much of him as you could. Did he get bigger over the past four years? No? That’s not possible? But you felt so full that you're memory failed you as you tried to get him all down your throat. You came back up in a gasp of air. A string of saliva connected your lips to his tip. You stroked your hand up and down the long shaft. Memorizing each vein as you did. You went back down, and that whimper came back. 

Oh, the lovely little whine coming from Edie’s mouth was making your pussy flutter. You were starting to understand why he loved your moans and whimpers. Hearing them only made your arousal pool in your panties. 

“Please, baby, I need you. I need you so bad.” Having Eddie begging for you was also a new experience that unlocked something in your brain. In all aspects of the term, this larger-than-life man at your mercy was turning you on in ways you never thought possible. You didn’t let up; you worked your tongue around his tip, then slid him back down your throat again. 

“FUCK angel, please I don’t think I can last long. I need to fuck you, baby. Please let me fuck you; let me feel that pretty little pussy.” He was begging, and you were thriving. However, the need for him to fill you was becoming greater than the feeling he was giving you when he was begging, so you let up. With a pop, you let his throbbing member out of your mouth. Eddie hiked you up off the floor and started to strip you down as fast as he could. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked as he kissed down your neck. He let a finger trail up your sticky inner thighs. 

“Don’t care,” you shake your head. 

“Bedroom?” He looks over his shoulder down the hall to where he assumes your room is. 

“No time.” You turn so you’re bent over the kitchen countertop. 

“Always so ready for me.” Eddie swiped a single digit up your wet slit. 

“Fuck me, fuck me hard,” you pleaded.

“Yes, ma’am,” you heard the smirk in his voice. 

Eddie tugged your hair as he pulled your head to the side so he could kiss you, it was sloppy and wet, so much tongue, but it didn’t matter when you felt the tip of his cock run up and down your folds. The metal ball of his ring was cool against your hot clit. Your body shivered as it brushed against you before slipping past your entrance. You pushed your body back into Eddie so he could fill you as fast as possible. 

Eddie’s grip on your hair tightened as he yanked your head back so you were arching into him. The leverage he had using your head as a vice to slam into you over and over. His other hand explored your chest, harshly gripping your breast. You’re sure his fingertips will be scorched into your skin forever.

“Fuck I missed this pussy” he growled into your ear as his hot breath cascaded over your skin. The room was full of the wet sound of Eddie pounding into you. His harsh thrusts didn’t slow as he fucked himself into you. He pulled out entirely, and you cried at the loss of him.

“Just needed to taste you.” You felt his hands spread apart your cheeks. His warm tongue replaced his cock, travelling its way from one hole to the other. A feral moan left your lungs, and before you knew it, he was back hovering over you, guiding his cock back where it belonged.

“Nobody compares to you” his praises didn't match his movement; if you hadn’t known any better, you swore he was hate fucking you right now… and maybe he was? He had years of pent-up feelings about you. 

“This is my pussy understand? It belongs to me and only me,” his grip finally left your hair as his hand slid down to your throbbing clit.

“Yes, Sir.” You cried as his fingertips made contact.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I’m yours, baby. I am yours,” you spoke after each thrust up into you.

“Fuck I love you so much; tell me you love me. I need to hear it.” Eddie’s thrusts hadn’t let up; you were a bit shocked by the stamina; even your legs were about to give out.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” You chanted like a mantra. The feeling in your lower stomach was forming. Eddie kissed down the side of your neck; the butterflies were starting with each circle of his fingers, each harsh bite and nip at your neck, each thrust hitting you so deep, the spot you’d been so desperate to get to but no matter how many times you tried on your own you just couldn’t. 

“I’m cumming!” Your body trembled, your pussy clenched down so hard you knew your body would soar in a few minutes.

“Shit, I’m close. Tell me how much you want me.” He spoke through his teeth.

“Please, Sir! Fill me, I want you so bad,” you cry.

“You want this cum baby? Do you want me to pump my load into you? That it? You want me to make you mine?” Eddie growled.

“Yes!” You nod.

After only a few more thrusts, Eddie came not long after you, pumping his load into you further and further until he slipped out of you. You collapse your body onto your kitchen counter as Eddie hangs his body weight over you, caging you in. 

“Baby, you ok?” You feel Eddie wrap his arms around your middle. 

“Yeah, just need to feel you.” He mumbled into the side of your neck. You could feel the warm cum dripping down your trembling legs. The realization hit you that you didn’t use protection. Your body stiffened, and Eddie caught on, “What’s wrong, baby?” He got up so you could turn to face him. You kissed him, not wanting to ruin the moment. He deserved one good day with you, and would a baby so bad? Having his baby. No, you dreamed of having his baby all the years ago. 

Eddie deepened the kiss, and your thoughts dispersed; Eddie was the only thing clouding your brain. He picked you up, latching your legs around his waist. 

“You going to show me your bedroom now, little lady?” He kissed down the other side of your neck, mirroring the marks he had left on the other side. 

“Down the hall, second door on the left.” Eddie was already walking before you finished taking it. He entered your room and threw you on the bed to climb onto you.

“Really, you’re ready for round two?” Your question, even you still need some recovery time, 

“You wound me, princess.” He drops his head as his large tattooed hand covers his heart. You then notice when he moved his hand that below where Violet Rose's name was etched into his skin over his heart was a tattoo you hadn’t seen before. A small pair of blacked-out angel wings with a halo hovering above. 

Your hand shot up to trace over the ink in his skin. 

“Eddie.” You whispered. 

Eddie looked down to see what made your eyes glaze over. The realization that you hadn’t seen it yet hit him hard. He wasn’t sure why he acted on impulse that day, but something in him told him he had to keep you close to his heart, that he couldn’t let you go. So he got this tattoo dedicated to you a year after the breakup.

He cleared his throat; he was a little embarrassed by how desperate he was for you. How desperate he still is for you.

“Look, I-” You didn’t let him finish because you pulled him down into you by the back of his neck to kiss him. To really kiss him, a kiss to show him that you love him, that you always loved him, that you were sorry for ever hurting him. 

“I love you,” you mumbled into his mouth. A shit-eating grin formed on Eddie’s face. He couldn’t get enough of you saying those words, and now you said it first, unprovoked. He slid down your body. 

“Hey, where are you going?” You whined at the loss of his warm body hovering over you. 

“I don’t get to worship my girl properly.” He parted your sticky legs.

“Eddie, you just came. You sure you want to?” You questioned, clamping your legs together. 

“When has that ever stopped me before?” he pried open your knees. Not wasting another second, he was lapping at your clit, sending you into a cloudy euphoria.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“Come home with me?” Eddie asked the following day. You’d been intertwined with one another all night, not leaving one another for a moment. Not even when you got up to go to the bathroom. You didn’t want to waste another second apart. You never thought you would be this happy again; the ecstasy flowing through you was giving you a high. 

“I want you to meet Wayne.” he snuggled his head into the crook of your neck. 

“I would love to,” you sighed.

“Good, we are going back in two weeks; Violet hasn’t seen her Pops in too long.” He smiled.

“You never told me much about him before?” You shifted in the sheets to face him. 

You absentmindedly reached over to play with his hair. 

“Not much to say,” he shrugged.

You gave him a pointed look that told him he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “He is a stubborn old grump who took me in when he didn’t need to. He really is a softy on the inside, especially when it comes to his granddaughter.” He sighed. 

“Sounds like he is a really good guy,” you smile.

“He is, won’t admit it though, he is a very humble man, and it took years in order to convince him to live in the house I got him instead of the trailer I grew up in. I literally had to have it moved into the backyard with the house to convince him to leave that place.” He laughed. 

You needed to meet the man who raised Eddie to thank him for doing such a good job. It meant so much to you that he would want you to meet him, especially after everything that happened. 

“I can’t wait to meet him.” You kiss him gently.

“Good because I already told him you are coming. Gotta show off my girl to everyone. 

Eddie’s words made your heart flutter. You still couldn’t believe this was happening and that he didn’t hate you. 

The following two weeks had flown by. Trying to convince Violet Rose that you are staying for good was much more complex than you thought. She was very standoffish and didn’t give you much to work with. When you spoke to her, she would give grunts and one-word answers if you were lucky. Being a teenage girl means approaching with a topic of interest, and with VR growing up so much since you’ve seen her, it’s been hard to wiggle your way back in.

School was not a discussion topic; partying was also a sore subject because she was still grounded, so on your flight back to Indiana, you tried again. She gave you the cold shoulder, still not forgiving you. Not understanding at all why you had left. You were starting to question why you left things as you did. It didn’t make sense in retrospect. She was right, you could have snuck around, you could have “broken up” and gotten back together weeks later. But in the moment, everything was too much; you were overwhelmed by everything you weren’t thinking about. Now, as a thirty-year-old, you have learned so much. You were not ready for many things that came your way but you got through them; and on your own. Giving yourself room to grow and become your best was probably the best thing that came out of this situation. 

“Hey, old man,” Eddie yelled into the empty foyer of Wayne’s quaint bungalow. 

Violet Rose pushed past the both of you and walked into what you believed to be her bedroom just off the front door. 

“Finally, I’ve been waitin’ round for ages! Can’t that dang plan of yours go any faster?” Wayne rounded the corner as he entered the long hallway. He embraced Eddie in a thigh hug, snaking his back a few times before letting go.

“Angel, this is Wayne” he smiled brightly

“Pops, this is my Angel.” You smile at Wayne before he opens his arms for a hug hello. 

Wayne knew of you from the past. Mainly when he spoke with his granddaughter. She spoke so highly of you all those years ago.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you.” You squeezed your arms around the elderly man. 

“Pleasure’s all my darlin'.” he pulled back to get a good look at you, then looked around. “Where’s my Grandbaby?” 

Eddie chuckled and then pointed towards the door. “Don’t think she could get away that easy?” Wayne smirked. 

Violet must have heard the conversation because she stepped out of the room and was changed into her sweats and an old Corroded Coffin shirt.

“Hey, Gramps.” She smiled slightly and leaned into him for a hug.

“Hey baby girl, you get taller? Damn, I haven’t seen you in so long” he brushed her curly locks down as he patted her head.

“Probably, but I think I’m done now,” she giggled. It was the first time you had seen her in a good mood. 

“Well, let’s quit standing in the hallway; come in!” He waves the three of you into his home.

Wayne cooked a delicious dinner, and then Eddie showed you around the only trailer that sat in the backyard. He wasn’t kidding when he said Wayne wouldn’t move unless it went with him.

Eddie showed you around his old bedroom; he said it was like stepping into a time machine. Everything had been left as it was when he left at 21. 

You teased him when you found an old Playboy that was very well-used. His cheeks flared up as you flipped through the dusty pages. He told you there used to be a display of mugs, the same one that was now inside the house, and a bunch of trucker hats that also used to be a staple, but now we’re probably in his bedroom collecting dust there. 

When you went back inside, you saw Wayne and VR huddled around the pool playing a game of Snooker. It was nice to see Violet Rose enjoying her time around you rather than sulking like a moody teenager. 

Eddie announced that both of you would join in the next round, and Violet rolled her eyes so much for progress. 

The rest of the night was relatively peaceful. Only one more snarky remark from Violet Rose got a stern response from her Pops, telling her off for talking back to her elders. 

“Don’t you teach this girl any manners? Did I not raise you to respect people?” Wayne grumbled. 

“You try raising a teenage girl, then come back to me; maybe I’ll leave her here for the summer,” Eddie smirked, which got a rise out of Violet. 

“I love you, Gramps, but I would rather die than live in Hawkins,” she winced. 

“Don’t blame ya, Sweet-pea, but I think all that Hollywood California L. A bullshit, pardon my French, has gotten to that head of yours ” he shook his head. 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh; it was so infectious you tried to hold in your giggles. 

“You guys are the worst! Just try and be a teenager now!” She dropped her pool cue and stormed off to her room. 

You looked at Eddie and gave a sympathetic smile; if anyone knew what she was going through in this room, it would be you. You went after her to see if she would open up to you. 

You tentatively knocked on the door three times before she told you to go away.

"Vi, can I please come in?" you speak through the door.

"No," you could hear her eyes roll. 

"Come on, Vi, who do you want to talk to you? Me a girl who has been in your position or your Dad?" you wait silently while she contemplates her options. 

"Fine." You hear her get up and walk to the door. She doesn't say anything when she opens the door. She turns and sulks back to her bed, curling her knees to her chest.

"So..." you start while thinking about what to say next. "Want to tell me what is going on?" you sit at the opposite end of her bed; you don't want to crowd her. 

"Not particularly," She mumbled into her knees. 

“Okay," you drew out with a huff. "How about I list off some things that I think are the issues, and you let me know if I'm close?" 

Violet Rose stared at you blankly, but you took that as a yes. 

"Okay... is it about school?" 

"No" 

"Friends?" 

"No"

"A boy?" 

"Not really" 

Okay that's good you were getting somewhere. 

"Not really? So, a boy problem with you? Or someone else?"

"It's about you and Dad." 

"Of course," you sighed.

"It's not that... it's not that I don't want you together because that is all I ever wanted. But I'm scared you're going to leave again." She was so meek. You hadn't seen Violet Rose, so unsure of herself. You reached out your comforting hand, shocked when she let you leave it resting over hers.

"I am so sorry about how I left things with you. I will never forgive myself for not being there to say goodbye. But I promise I am not planning on leaving this time. Your father and I are nowhere near perfect, but we are working on things. And if we ever plan to not continue things between us, I promise you I will always be a part of your life as long as you want me to be. Okay?" you sighed. 

You waited a few seconds in silence before she responded. "Okay.'' She whispered while giving a meek smile. 

"Was that the only thing bothering you?" you chide.

Violet sat and wondered if she wanted to share her feelings about her crush on her friend, Charlotte. Violet knew she liked both girls and boys for a while now but wasn't ready to divulge. She would rather speak about that to her aunts, Robin and Nancy. She shook her head no and said she would have an early night. 

You bid her a goodnight, and when you closed her door, a triumphant smile spread across your face. Progress has been made; that's all you wanted.

You rounded the corner and caught the end of Eddie and Wayne's conversation.

"Don't let this one go again, boy, or else I'll never forgive ya'." 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let him this time," You said with the same goofy smile.

"You're in a good mood. I'm assuming things went well?" Eddie pulled you in by the waist to sit beside him on the couch. 

"Yeah, she will be okay. Just needed some reassurance, is all." You curled up next to him. 

Eddie didn't say anything more when he gave a kiss to your temple. 

"Told ya she would be good for you son." Wayne tipped the beer bottle to you. 

"Yea, yea, yea, you are always right," Eddie laughed.

It seemed that you were fitting back into their family just perfectly. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

On your second day in Hawkins, Eddie wanted to take you around town and bring you to meet his old friends. He told you that his buddy Steve was hosting a BBQ and invited all of his old high school friends for the occasion. He said you were going to meet everyone. Steve and his wife and kids, Robin and Nancy, who were married; Nancy’s little brother Mike and his Wife El; Dustin and his wife Suzy and their kids; Lucas and his wife Max and their kids; and Luca’s little sister Erica and her partner. You told him you would try to remember everyone’s names, but you made no promises. 

It was all a bit overwhelming to meet everyone all at once, but you felt like you were welcomed with open arms, regardless of what Eddie had told them about you. 

You’d lost Eddie halfway through the evening. Naturally, the men and women separated into their separate groups.

“So tell me about Eddie when he was in high school.” You smirked into your iced tea glass. Everyone else had been drinking tonight, but your stomach was feeling off, probably due to the nerves of meeting everyone tonight. 

“Oh, he was a TOTAL dork,” Robin giggled. 

“Not much of a jock, I’m assuming?” you asked, giggling with her. 

“No, no, but he was a charming guy,” Nancy spoke. “a bit eccentric.”

“No, very eccentric,” Robin corrected with a laugh. 

“But he was always looking out for his friends, sucking up for others, like my brother Mike” Nancy nodded over to the guys who were surrounding the BBQ. 

Robin was someone you gravitated toward the most; she was funny and spunky, and you totally understood why she fell for Nancy. Nancy was kind, warm and not to mention gorgeous. 

This made you smile to know he always had a genuine heart. 

“Sounds ‘bout right,” you sigh. 

Eddie couldn’t break the smile that spread across his face the second you two walked in the door. He was so smitten and very excited to show you off. He finally found his person; all of his hometown friends had settled down for years, getting married in their 20s and having a normal life in the suburbs. He felt like he was finally able to settle down with you. He had already settled down while raising VR but always missed his partner. 

“How did you manage to swing a girl like that, Eds? She has to be half your age,” Steve asks, nodding his head in your direction. 

“She is thirty,” Eddie corrected him, but he knew Steve was only pulling his leg. 

“He’s a famous rockstar now, remember! Not the same nerd from Hawkins High,” Dustin laughed. 

Eddie gave him a stern look. Sure, they were all grown up, but Eddie still saw them as his little sheep. 

“Com’on, dude! It’s been so long since we busted your balls,” Lucas said, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever y’all are just jealous.” Eddie rolled his eyes, smirking before taking a sip of beer. 

“We are happy for you, dude,” Steve smiled. “You seem much better when she is around. You sound alive again.” He flipped a steak on the grill. 

“Well, my fellow brethren, thank you for everything you’ve done for me; I appreciate it.” “You're getting way too sappy for me; I thought I was standing with the men.” Mike laughed.

The evening was ending; the lot of you were all snuggled up by the bonfire in the backyard of the Harrington residents. 

“So… what do you prefer to be called? Your actual name or Angel?” Steve inquired.

“Whatever you prefer, to be honest, I like both.” You smiled.

“Well, I’m calling you Angel,” Robin piped up, “It's cute,” she smiled.

“It’s all Eddie ever refers to you as; I had no idea it was you he was speaking of when he told us he was bringing a lady friend,” Steve smirked. 

“She’s not just a lady friend; she is his girlfriend,” Dustin chimed in with a grin.

“Well, whatever you are, we are happy you’re here; it’s about time someone tied this one down.” Steve tilted his beer bottle up to toast. 

“Thank you for having me; I’m so happy to meet all of you. Eddie has told me wonderful things about all of you.” You smiled, reaching for Eddie’s hand. 

“Awe shucks, bud. Are you getting all mushy on us?” Steve laughs. 

“Zip it, Harrington,” Eddie said, teasingly pointing a finger. 

“What? I’m just saying… The last time we saw you with anyone was Chrissy... and that was twenty years ago!” He clapped. Steve was drunk.  

Your body tenses and tired to laugh, but up at the thought of Eddie with another girl made you feel icky.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t found anyone close to how Angel makes me feel, so I don’t care how long it took her to find me.” Eddie kissed your cheek with a wet smack. 

Steve cringed at how gushy his friend was, but the ladies fawned over it. They were so happy Eddie finally found his person. They had multiple discussions about how they were worried for his well-being when he started partying again. 

“You both are the cutest. How did you rekindle things? Eddie told us you dated in the past. Nancy spoke.

You told them about how you caught VR in the club and dragged her home, and the rest was history. 

The evening wrapped up around midnight. The car ride home was quiet but not uncomfortable.  Eddie held your hand the whole ride home with a slight smile. Your heart was warm; Eddie had really good people in his life. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

"When do yous two plan on hitting the road?" Wayne asked a few days after your arrival. 

"Trying to kick us out, old man? We just got here," Eddie laughed. 

"No, boy, I just gotta know how much food to buy at the store." He huffed. 

"Well, we will stay for four more days and head out on the 7th. 

Wait? Did Eddie just say the 7th was in four days? That can't be right. You open your phone to look at your calendar. Shit. 

You excuse yourself calmly to go to the bathroom.

You lock the door behind you and open your period tracker app. You were six days late. Okay, no need to panic. The last time you had unprotected sex was... almost every night for the past two weeks... You tried to think back; he pulled out nearly every time. But there was the first night you rekindled the flame; he definitely didn't pull out then… okay. Focus. You’re 30 and not getting any younger, your career is at its peak, and you’re with the man you want to be with forever. Growing your and Eddie’s baby inside you made your heart flutter. Maybe a baby wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

You decided to wait a few more days for your period to come just in case it was a fluke. You also didn’t want to take a pregnancy test in Wayne’s house, so you waited until you returned to LA. 

You went out of the bathroom and decided not to tell Eddie anything until you knew for sure. Your mind was racing with all the possibilities. You tried to reel it back in the best you could and engage with the rest of them, but the last few days of the trip have been full of fantasies of a mini-you running around.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

When you got home from Indiana, the first thing you did was have your assistant rush to the drugstore. The last thing you needed was to have you papped buying a pregnancy test before you told Eddie anything. It sat on your bathroom counter, taunting you. You were so scared, so nervous about what could be. 

You waited a few days before building up the courage to face reality because your period still hadn’t made its appearance.  

It was six o’clock in the evening, and you had just gotten home from the studio. You had a productive day; you got about 4 songs finished and recorded for the new album coming out in 3 months. You were feeling good about your progress in the studio, and something in you told you to take the test. 

You tried your best to distract yourself in the fifteen minutes for the test to be complete. The longest fifteen minutes of your life were waiting for the results; the second your phone timer went off, you ran back to the bathroom to check the test that sat on the vanity. 

With shaking hands, you lifted it up to your face to see the very prominent plus sign marking the test positive. With a gasp, you felt your stomach erupt in those oh-so-familiar butterflies. You were happy, so happy, you were having a baby! Tears of joy escaped from your tear ducts. You couldn’t believe the news. How are you going to tell Eddie? Would he want to keep it? Would he stay with you? It was so soon; less than two months passed since you had gotten back together. How was VR going to react?! Oh god, you were just getting back in her good graces, this could screw up everything.

The next day, you got an appointment with your doctor; thankfully, they had an opening. They did the blood test, and a day later, they called you to confirm the news that you had been about 3 weeks along. 

You let out the breath you had been holding when you picked up the phone. 

You thanked them and hung up with a shaky hand. The first thing you did was sit and think about your future. You wanted to keep this baby no matter what Eddie's decision will be. You hadn’t booked a tour for this album release yet. You had a meeting with your team next month about it, but would let them know that it would have to be put on hold for now. You hugged your stomach as you thought about how you had not only yourself to think about. You were excited yet terrified all at the same time. 

You were off in your own little baby world the next few days. You had called your mom to tell her because you could no longer keep the secret to yourself.  She was so ecstatic, she cried happy tears, and she called your dad on the phone. She soothed your worries about having to tell Eddie. She reassured you that even if he didn’t want to be a part of the baby's life, she would be there for you, but she also reminded you how he raised a baby all on his own because he could never give up a child. That settled your nerves a bit, but you were still scared out of your wits. 

You spent the afternoon talking to her, brainstorming ways of how you would tell Eddie. Your mom and you thought it would be cute to give him a custom onesie that said “Corroded Coffins smallest fan.” You go on ordering that immediately; you don’t want to keep the secret any longer. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You were in Eddie’s bedroom getting unready after your dinner date; you hadn’t been feeling the best because of the baby. The nausea had been coming in waves, and Eddie knew you were not feeling the best. Oblivious to what was happening, you told him it was the stress of getting the album done. 

Eddie told you he picked up some ginger tablets because he knew Gravol made you too sleepy. 

“Baby, where are the tablets you bought? My stomach needs to settle,” you asked as you removed your earrings. 

“Uh, check the night stand,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the walk-in closet. 

You made your way over to his side of the bed and found nothing but an old copy of Lord of the Rings, a vibrator, and the box of condoms you were supposed to be using; bit too late for that now… 

You then walked to the bedside table on your side of the bed. That made more sense; he would put it on your side for you. 

You opened the drawer, and your heart felt like it stopped.

“What is this?” Your voice cracked.

“What’s what, Sugar?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

Your hands trembled as you picked up the small velvet box sitting there wide open for you to see. A diamond ring. It was not just any diamond ring but a pink 4-karat cushion cut with white diamond clusters on the side, staring you in the face. It was beautiful. 

This man could not be serious? This is not how he was proposing to you? 

You felt like you were moving in slow motion as you turned toward Eddie. Tears were threatening to rim your eyes; man, being pregnant really does heighten your hormones. 

Eddie was in the walk-in closet undressing for the evening, and when you didn’t respond to his question, he was confused, so he poked his head out while pulling on his black sweatpants.

To Eddie’s surprise, you held the one thing that had taunted him over the past four years. He had forgotten about it since you came back into his life. How could he be so stupid? Of course, you found it! 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Eddie ran over to you in a panic. He tried to swipe it from you, but you pulled your hand away. 

“Answer me, Eddie, what is this?” 

“A ring,” Eddie answered matter of factly. 

“I know it's a ring, Eddie, don’t play with me right now. What is this?” You tried to keep your voice from cracking again. 

With a deep sigh, Eddie folded an arm over his chest and pinched his brow before letting his head fall back, trying to think of a way to explain. 

“It’s an engagement ring, Princess.” He reached out to your free hand. You let him. “You weren’t supposed to find it.” He sighed. 

“I wasn’t supposed to find the engagement ring left wide open on my side of the bed?” You cocked your head. He had to be joking? So this isn’t how he was proposing? 

“God no, Angel! You think this is how I wanted to propose to you?” He shook his head with disbelief.

“Then why is it sitting in there out in the open for me to find!” You didn’t know what to think; was this even meant for you? Are you jumping to conclusions? “Oh my god, it’s not for me, is it? Fuck I’m so stupid” You shoved the box into Eddie’s hands and ran into the ensuite bathroom. 

“Angel, wait!” Eddie called out to you but your emotions were sighted by one thousand, and you shut the door in his face before he could follow you. 

“Baby, please let me in; I’ll explain everything. Just let me see my pretty girl.” Eddie cooed through the black wooden door. 

You stood there for a moment, unsuccessfully holding back your tears. You didn’t feel pretty, your mascara was running, your stomach was still doing flip-flops, and you looked boated. 

“No,” you refused. 

“Come on now, sweetheart, don’t be like this. I’ll tell you everything.” Eddie watched the doorknob like he was trying to unlock it with his mind. To his surprise, it twisted. You stepped out, walking right past him no less, as you crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over your head. 

Eddie rolled his eyes at your dramatics. You really could be such a brat, but he knew better than to poke the bear right now. 

“Come out from under there, please, so I can talk to you?” Eddie stroked your arm from above the blanket. He didn’t get a worded response, just a muffled grumble. 

“Let me talk to you, pretty girl, don’t act like a child.  Another muffled, grumbled response was made, and he could have sworn you said something about acting however you want because you’re having his child, but it was so muffled he swore that he was just hearing things. 

Eddie tried again, then realized you were not coming up, so he would have to go in. You tried pulling the covers closer to you, but his grip was much stronger than yours. He snuggled in the bed, but you turned to face the other way. 

Eddie could not believe your behaviour right now. 

“Don’t make me take you over my knee, little one,” he seductively whispered in your ear. 

He could not be serious right now? 

“Eddie, don’t,” you huffed. 

“Then quit being a brat and let me talk to you.” he pulled you into him so he was spooning you. 

“You tried to wiggle away, but his strong arm held you in place. You decided to give up and let him talk. The sooner he spoke, the sooner you could escape this stifling heat trap you had created for yourself. 

“What do you want to know?” He kissed your shoulder as one hand trailed lightly up and down the side of your thigh.

“Everything.” You whispered with a light sniffle. 

“Yes, the ring was for you, and no, you were not supposed to find it like that... It's been sitting on that side of the bed for years, taunting me, and I never had the heart to throw it away.” Years? You wanted to cut him off and ask, but you let him continue. “ I had this whole thing planned to put in Italy. You remember?” he cleared his throat. Fuck “Obviously, that didn’t work out like I had hoped. I had forgotten it was there over these past few months because it was no longer a reminder of sad memories. I don’t know why I didn’t move it when we got back together; honestly, I just didn’t think about it. You were never supposed to see it… well, not never…” 

You took a moment to process, then slowly turned around to face Eddie. You placed a hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you now, but the idea of being engaged made you extremely happy. 

“I love you, Eddie.” You whispered as you pulled back. 

“So we are okay?” He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod. 

“Good, because I must punish you for being such a brat now.” Eddie threw up the blankets and pulled you over his lap before you knew what was happening.

“NO, we can’t hut the baby!” you shouted, not thinking. 

Eddie’s hand froze mid-air before it could come down on your bottom. 

You covered your mouth, realizing what you had just said as Eddie pulled you back up from his lap.

“What did you just say?” Eddie's eyes were wild while scanning your tummy back up to your face.

“I’m pregnant,” you spilled softly. 

“You’re- you- you’re? A baby?” Eddie pointed to your tummy. 

“This is not how I planned on telling you,” you groaned into your hands before looking up at Eddie, who had the brightest smile on his face. 

“You’re having a baby?” His large hand spread across your lower stomach. You place your hand over his and nod yes. 

“We are having a baby!!” Eddie shot up out of bed and pumped his fists as he ran around the room in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh; this was the best reaction you could have hoped for. 

“When did you find out?” He ran back over to your side of the bed.

 “Um, not long, about two weeks ago…” 

“Two weeks?! Why didn’t you tell me?” He places a gentle hand over your tummy.

“I was scared… and I was waiting for the gift to come in the mail to help tell you.” You looked down as you started picking at your nails. 

“Scared?” Eddie cupped the side of your face.

“We are so new, and I didn't know if you wanted to be committed to me like that after everything from our past and-”

“No.” Eddie shook his head, cutting you off. “We aren’t doing that; this is the best news I could have ever asked for.” He leaned in to kiss you. “I love you,” another kiss. “I love you,” he moved down to your neck. Kissing you between each sentence. “You’re going to be the best momma… and now I’m going to have to take extra good care of my girl and baby.” Eddie couldn’t hold back his smile. 

Your skin tingled as Eddie made his way down your body with more kisses. You moaned from how his lips brushed so lightly against your skin. Everything had been heightened now that you were pregnant. Every touch, every kiss, every graze was like a bolt of lightning shooting down your body and straight to your clit. 

You moaned his name as he sucked on your neck. His hands gently pushed you up on the pillows resting on the headboard. 

“Have to treat my girl extra special now.” He whispered as he travelled down your body. His strong hands travelled down to the hem of your dress and wasted no time getting you naked. 

“Have to treat this pussy right; it’s going to be giving me the best gift in the world.” He kissed your clit over your panties, and your body jerked. This was the first time you’ve had sex since finding out the news. Your morning sickness had been taking over any time you were with Eddie. You won’t be up for it. 

Your body was so much more reactive, and Eddie noticed. Oh, he was going to have so much fun.

“You like that, Princess?” He stroked his index finger down your clothed slit before hooking a finger under the gusset and pulling them down in one swift motion. 

“Yes,” you panted. 

“Look at that,” Eddie said as he parted your legs. He ran a calloused fingertip through your slick. You grabbed his wrist when he got to your clit. 

“Too much,” you whimpered. It felt like your body was on fire. 

Eddie crawled back up to kiss you; it was soft and tender. His hand trailed up from your centre to your breasts. He cupped one over your bra and massaged gently as you ground your core into his thigh. 

“I can’t wait to worship this body,” Eddie spoke into your mouth. 

You let out a soft moan when Eddie pulled down the cups of your bra and latched his mouth onto your extra-sensitive nipple. Your hips hadn’t stopped moving. Your clit was throbbing as you ground your hips up and down his clothed thigh. Eddie let you use his leg to release the pressure that kept building and building in your lower stomach. The added pleasure of Eddie’s mouth on your peaked bud made your orgasm come faster than ever before. It didn’t take much before you were letting out silent screams. 

“Poor little thing, coming already? Eddie loved this. He was eating it up. 

“Please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for? You were so sensitive, but you needed to feel Eddie or else you would explode. 

“There there little one, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed. 

“Daddy?” You questioned still in your fucked out haze.

Eddie never referred himself to Daddy in bed, only Sir. 

“Yes. Daddy. ‘Nd you’re Mommy.”

Was it weird? Yes. Were you arguing? No. It only turned you on even more. 

“Now stop thinking and let Daddy take care of you.” 

He aligned his hardened shaft with your dripping hole. 

It slipped in without any resistance; you felt every inch, every vein, and especially those glorious silver balls perched at the end of his shaft graze your g spot. 

“Oh my,” you whispered.  

“Aww, look at that little pussy clenching,” he pulled out before spreading you open again and again. 

Eddie wasn’t going at his usual pace; he knew it was silly, but he didn’t want to hurt the baby. He saw that you were so sensitive enough that he didn’t need to. 

He rocked his hips to push in and out of you slowly and methodically. 

“More,” you whimpered, trying to gyrate your hips against his to create more friction!  Eddie pinned your hips down.

“Nuh'uh, don’t fight it.” He threw your legs over his shoulders and leaned in so you folded in half. 

“Please,” you begged. You were so fucked out you just needed to feel every bit of him. 

“My poor little one.” he mocked before reaching his hand down to massage your swollen bud. “Can’t do anything about it, can you?” He was such an ass. 

“Please Eddie, I-I-”

“Oh, I think my cock got you so stupid. It’s not Eddie, baby girl.” He stopped all movement. 

“Daddy, please!” You were on the verge of tears at this point. You were so overstimulated. Every stroke, every brush, every breath was overwhelming you.

“There’s my smart girl.” Eddie bent down to kiss you as his hips thrust into you so deeply that you saw stars. Your body felt like it left and went to another dimension. 

“Keep coming, baby, that’s it.” Eddie didn’t let up. He continued to pound into your cunt until he was spilling himself inside of you. For the first time, Eddie wasn’t worried about him cum filling you up. 

“That’s it. Take it all. You’re my little cum dumpster. Going to fill you get you pregnant all over again.” 

You were too fucked out to realize what he was saying didn’t make any sense. 

You came back down to reality a few minutes later. You were curled up on Eddie’s chest. You could feel the rise and fall of his lungs as the room was filled with heavy pants until Eddie spoke up. 

“I wasn’t too much, was I?” Eddie was worried, worried about hurting you or the baby. You shook your head no in response.

“How did this happen?” Eddie questioned. 

“What? The baby?” You quipped.

“Yeah, I thought it was like impossible to get pregnant with an IUD?” He crunched his face, trying to think. 

Shit.

“I took it out…” you admit. No use lying to him.

“You- you took it out? What? When?” Eddie was shocked.

“I had it taken out over a year ago because I thought it was aiding my depression, you know… hormones and all that.” You bite your lip with anticipation. 

“Baby…” he trailed off. 

“I’m okay now, I swear. I’m doing a lot better,” you promised. 

“You promise to tell me if you ever feel like that again, OK?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You playfully reply. “Oh, that’s how it's going to be?” He raises a brow at you. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with the mother of my child, and you wanna be a brat?” His fingers started trailing up your sides, tickling your middle. 

“Eddie, stop!” You laugh, but he doesn’t let up. He continues until you’re almost in tears. When he finally gives in, it hits you what he said minutes earlier. You’re the mother of his child. Unborn but still yours nonetheless. 

“I’m going to be a mommy.” You whisper more to yourself than anyone. 

“Yeah, you are.” Eddie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“You two are so gross,” Violet Rose said as she entered the kitchen the next morning. 

“Huh?” You questioned before taking a bite of the scrambled egg Eddie had made for you

“I don’t ever want to hear your nightly activities ever again." she shuttered.

You felt all the blood drain from your face as you froze from the words she spoke. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you mumbled under your breath, trying to hide your face in your hands. How mortifying! 

“Mornin’ Cupcake,” Eddie walked back into the kitchen as Violet grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“So gross,” VR cringed and walked away without another word. 

“Hey! You’re still grounded, don’t forget. I don’t need the snarky comments,” he called after her, clueless about what she might have heard the night prior. 

“Baby, you might have to end her punishment early… she has suffered enough.” You try not to laugh, but it was so uncomfortable you don’t know how to react. 

“What?” Eddie looked back at you. 

“She heard us…last night.” you cringe.

“She knows about the baby?” He tilted his head. 

“No, not the baby,” you chuckle. 

“You mean?” Eddie’s eyes went wide at the realization. No wonder she called him gross. 

“Oh god! No, no, no, shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

“Baby, it will be okay.” You tried to console him. 

“Okay? It’s not okay! Probably scarred her for the rest of her life!” He brushed his hands down his face. “She shouldn’t even know what sex is! She’s a baby, my baby!” Eddie was spiralling. 

“She snuck into a club with a fake ID and was with a man twice her age when I found her... hate to break it to you, but she knows what sex is, babe.” You stroke his back, trying to calm him down. 

“She was with who now?” Eddie's face went beat red. Shit. You’d forgotten you hadn’t disclosed that part of the night you found VR at The Red Bottom's. 

“Shhhh shhhhh, it's okay. She got her punishment; she knows what she did was wrong. We are finally getting somewhere with her; let's not ruin it by reminding her of her mistakes.” You cooed. 

“Yea, yea, you’re right,” He sighed. 

“Poor kid,” you shake your head. 

“When do you want to tell her?” Eddie pulled you in by your oversized t-shirt. 

“You think we should tell her now? She is old enough. I don’t wanna keep any more secrets from her.” You wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Yeah, I think so too.” Eddie landed his forehead on yours. You were about to kiss when Violet Walked back into the room. 

“Oh god! Get a room!” She covered her eyes like she was in physical pain. 

“Sweetheart, come here. We have to share something important.” Eddie patted the bar stool that was beside him. 

“Do I have to? I could be doing, I don’t know, algebra homework or something.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Come, sit” Eddie used that commanding voice that made your pussy tingle. 

“We have some news. Exciting news.”  Eddie emphasized when he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“You want to tell her, or should I?” Eddie asked as he looked at you. 

“Um, you can tell her, baby” You smiled. You were very nervous about what her reaction would be. You had just broken the surface of making up with her. 

“You are going to be a big sister.” Eddie smiled brightly. 

A few seconds of silence pass before what Eddie said hits Violet Rose. “Shut up!” Violet’s face emulated her father’s as his mouth parted into a toothy smile. 

Well, that was better than expected…

“You’re having a baby!” She jumped up and embraced you in a hug. Tears of joy rose in your eyes, and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” You whispered. 

“Holy shit!” Violet was ecstatic. Now, this really meant you were here for good! You wouldn’t leave her and her father. She finally felt like things would be okay. 

“So you’re okay with this?” You ask with a quivering lip. God, pregnancy really made you a crybaby. 

“Yes! Omg we have to go shopping! We can get all the baby clothes and, oh, the nursery! We can decorate it; I have so many ideas! I saw one Pinterest the other day that was just the cutest! Oh, and we can do a baby shower! And a gender reveal party! But not those lame ones with the smoke or balloon ones that are horrible for the environment- ” She rambled on. 

“Whoah, slow down Cupcake”  Eddie cut her off. “We just found out, so you can’t tell anyone yet; it’s too early.”

“How far along are you?” She bounced up and down on her toes. 

“Five weeks.” You smile. 

“Oh, I'm so excited. I love you guys.” She hooked her arms around your and Eddie’s necks. 

That was the first time you heard her tell you that since she was eleven. The waterworks were starting up again. You’d finally felt like a family again. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie, Violet Rose and you had lived in your little bubble for the past two months. Things with VR were so much better; she was opening up to you like she used to and trusting you more than ever. Eddie had also asked you to move in with him. 

Even though you loved your little bungalow, having the four of you living there wasn't practical. Eddie’s had so much more space and was always a home to you in the time you’ve known him. You’d convinced Eddie to start redecorating just a little bit. However, you told him the house needed to be brighter. So after some negotiations (letting Eddie do filthy things to you), you got your way and painted the walls lighter. It made the house look so much more significant. Violet cheered when you told her the dungeon she lived in would be given a facelift. 

Today, Eddie and Violet Rose and you were out furniture shopping. You’d wanted to fix the bedroom to make it yours and Eddie’s rather than just Eddie’s. Eddie was fine with anything as long as you were happy. You’d also come across some cribs and changing tables in the store that you loved and marked down to save for the future. 

After hours of looking, you were starving, so you went to lunch at your favourite spot.

Word was starting to spread that you and Eddie had gotten back together. You both hadn’t officially announced anything, but you had been spotted out in public a few times, and the wind was picking up in the tabloids about the both of you, so you were grateful when the restaurant wasn’t bustling.

“The baby is still hungry,” You wined as the waiter walked away with empty plates.  

“Holy shit!” Violet Rose squealed out of nowhere. 

“What?!” You ask.

“Oh my god, I can't believe that's her!” Violet half whispered. She didn’t get excited about celebrities; she grew up with them, so why was she freaking out about this one? 

You look at Eddie and see all the blood drain from his face. 

“What is it?” You grab his hand. 

“Eddie, is that you?” You heard a sickly, sweet voice approach the table. 

You cannot believe who is standing before you as you look to your right. 

“Sarafina, uh, hi- it’s been a while.” He stuttered as she wrapped herself around your boyfriend.  

“Wait, you two know one another? Dad! why didn’t you tell me?” Violet chastised. 

You watched as Sarafina’s face shot towards her daughters. 

“This must be Violet Rose.” She smiled. God, she was beautiful. 

“You know my name?” Violet’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well yeah, I-” she looked to Eddie, and he subtly shook his head no. “I, uh, know your Dad; we go way back. About sixteen years, if I’m not mistaken.” She clearly was hurt by the fact Violet Rose didn’t know she was her mother. 

You’d cleared your throat to take the attention off Sarafina. 

“Oh, I’m being so rude. Where are my manners?” She spoke. “I’m Sarafina, and you are?” 

“This is my Mom. You can call her Poppy or Angel, whatever works,” Violet Rose spoke up, and you and Eddie both wiped your heads toward her.  She hadn’t ever called you her Mom before? “Uh yea, whatever works? It’s very nice to meet you.” You stuck out your hand as a gesture. She didn’t take it. 

“Mom? You’re young enough to be her sister.” You knew it was a jab but weren’t sinking to that level. 

“Yeah, well, she’s a great one.” Eddie grabbed your hand.

“Well, I uh- don’t want to bother you any longer on your little family day.” She cleared her throat. “It was nice seeing you, Eddie,” She nodded and then lingered on Violet Rose before she walked out of the restaurant.  

“What the hell, dad!” Violet spoke as soon as she saw Sarafina exit the building.

“Violet Rose Winnifred Munson. Don’t.” Eddie never used her full name unless he meant it. So she dropped it… for now. She thought about asking you later when her dad wasn’t around. 

The car ride home was quiet until Violet spoke up. 

“So uh, about lunch… I think Sarafina likes you, Dad.” 

“What?” He jerked the wheel a bit, making you squeak. “Sorry baby, but what are you talking about Cupcake?” He looked at her through the rearview mirror. 

“She was totally all over you!” 

“Is that why you called Angel your mom?” Your eyes went wide with curiosity. 

“Well, yeah, partly.” She shrugged. 

“Partly?” You ask, looking back at her. 

“You’re more of a mom than she ever was to me.” Violet had dug into who his dad had been with around the time she was conceived. She got final confirmation when Sarafina said they’d known each other for sixteen years. It wasn’t rocket science to see the similarities in her face and her birth mother's.

Somehow Eddie managed to keep his cool while driving you safely back home before freaking out. The three of you exited the car, and Eddie walked over to Violet Rose. As you watched him engulf his daughter in a suffocating hug, you couldn’t help but sniffle. Damn you, baby hormones. 

“I want you to know how special you are. You are so brave, smart, loving, and funny, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your Dad, okay?” He kissed the side of her head and pulled away. 

“Thanks, Dad. But can I ask…. Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked as you all walked back into the house. 

“Because Cupcake, I know what it’s like to not be wanted by the people who are supposed to love you the most. And I did not want that for you, ever. Growing up, I couldn’t have you seeing that woman everywhere, knowing she asked not to be a part of your life.” Eddie sighed. 

“I love you, Dad, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. I kinda just wanna call Charlotte and tell her what’s happening.” She made her way to the staircase. 

“I’m just going to ask that you ask her not to say anything. I know she won’t, but Sarafina asked that no one knew… that’s part of why I didn’t tell you, kiddo. But you have every right to talk about it… it’s your life, too.” Eddie sighed. 

“Thanks, Dad.” Violet turned and walked up the stairs. 

“You’re a good Dad.” You turned to hug Eddie once VR was out of sight. 

“It’s so hard sometimes.” He nuzzled his head into your neck. 

“But you have me now; you don’t have to do this alone anymore.” You stroked his head. 

“God, I love you.” He leaned in for a deep kiss.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You told Roger and your team you were pregnant a week ago. You were starting to show and couldn't really hide the bump anymore. It's been over three months, and your doctor said the baby was healthy, so it was okay to start telling people. 

Roger was excited, more than enthusiastic; he had ideas on pregnancy announcements. He insisted on a People Magazine cover to announce your and Eddie’s relationship plus the Baby. You’d let him know you would run it by Eddie, but it seemed like he didn’t have a choice. 

“I don’t know about this Princess,” Eddie snuggled you while laying in bed, getting ready to sleep. 

“Come on baby, it could be good for us, like really good! No more sneaking around. I can finally stop worrying about people finding out, and it will probably up record sales.” You stroked his tattooed-clad chest. 

“I hate photoshoots; they’re so long, and I always get so cranky and hungry-”

“Hangry.” 

“Yea, that… and what about you? I don’t want you on your feet that long.” 

“Who says I’ll be on my feet?” you tease. “I’ll probably be in nothing but a sheet, baby. I’ll have to show my little bump, and you can be there with me while I’m practically naked…. Or I can do the same without you and just make it all about me.” you shrug, knowing that won’t fly. 

“No way in hell I’m letting you be naked in a room with a bunch of men without me.” Eddie huffed. 

“Okay, then it’s settled. You’re doing it.” you kiss his cheek and roll over to turn out the light. You could feel Eddie roll his eyes, and you snuggled back into his chest. 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿 

The magazine cover came out when you were five months along. Your baby bump was more prominent now than on the shoot day. You could finally show it off without worrying about hiding your tummy anymore. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. 

“Can’t believe it's finally public,” you sighed. You were in the living room hanging out with Violet Rose. 

“Me too! Now I can finally tell people I will be a big sister!” She applauded. “You think it will be a boy or girl?” She asked. 

“I don’t know yet. I thought I would have a feeling by now, but honestly, I’m unsure.” You rubbed your tummy. 

“Too bad you guys are waiting; I would have planned the best gender reveal party…”  she sighed.   “Speaking of parties.” Violet Rose hesitated, knowing she couldn’t be trusted with going out after being busted. “Charlotte is having a birthday party tonight, and I was hoping you could help me get ready?” 

“And where is this party being held?” You question. 

“At her house, her parents will be there; it is totally supervised, I swear.” She crossed her heart. 

“And your Dad knows you’re going?” You question. 

“Yes, I already spoke to him. I’m sleeping there, so you don’t have to pick me up either. 

“Of course, I’ll help you get ready,” you smile.

You were sat in Violet’s room in a pile of clothing. She was freaking out about what she should wear. Then, after you figured out her outfit, you would help her with her hair and makeup. 

“Ugh! I'm never going to find anything cute enough!” She cried. 

“This is so cute. Wear this!” You pull a black minidress out of the pile she had thrown at you. 

“I wore that last time!” She wined. 

You looked at the clock; it was only 5:00 pm; thank god you had three hours to help her get ready. 

“Come, let’s look in my closet…” you waved her over to follow you to your room.

After settling on one of your outfits, you returned to her room to do her hair and makeup. 

“So any particular reason you are freaking out?” You laugh while blending her bronzer. 

“I’m not freaking out,” She huffed. 

You give her a knowing look. 

“Okay, fine. My crush will be there, and I wanted to look nice for them…” She sighed. 

“Oh, a crush! Do tell.” You wiggled your brows at her. You were so excited she was finally opening up to you again. 

“uh… well.” Violet hesitated. 

“It’s okay, baby, you can tell me,” you reassured her. 

“It’s Char.” She looked down, avoiding eye contact. 

“Oh?” You were taken aback a little; you didn’t think she would be crushing on her new best friend. 

“I, uh. I like both boys and girls.” She twiddled with her thumb. You could tell hoe nervous she was, but you were so happy she opened up. 

“Can I tell you a secret? You lifted her chin so you could continue doing her face. “I like boys and girls too.” You smiled. Not many people knew about your preferences. However, it felt right to let her know she wouldn’t be judged by you.

“What?” Violet Rose’s eyes brightened. 

You nod your head to confirm. 

“Does Dad know?” She asked. 

“Yeah, I told him when we first started the whole fake dating thing.” You shrugged.

“Cool,” she half whispered. 

“So tell me more.” You smile, reaching for the eyeshadow brush. 

“Well she is really pretty, and smart, and funny, and we get along so well. I feel like she’s my other half.” She sighed. 

“Do you know if she likes girls too?” 

“No” her shoulders sunk. 

“Well, she would be crazy not to like you back if she does.” 

“You think so?” She looked up at you with those chocolate eyes. 

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way because I do not condone what you did at the club, but you pulled that guy, didn’t you? You’re beautiful. Your mom’s a supermodel, and you’re funny, charismatic, and kind.” You tell her. 

“She’s not my mom…” She shook her head. 

“You know what I mean-”

“You are,” she cut you off. 

“Ohhhh, don’t you do this to me now!” You jokingly threaten as you try to hold back the waterworks. 

“Pop, I'm sorry I keep forgetting how the baby makes you emotional.” She giggled. 

You sniffle a bit and pull it together to continue her eye makeup.

“Anyway… I hope I figure out what to do.” She sighs.

“Have you told your dad?” You ask, moving on to her hair. 

“No,” she shakes her head. 

“Okay, I won’t say anything until you're ready to tell him yourself.” You smile at her from your reflection in the mirror. 

“Thanks, Mom,” she said with a slight grin. 

“Okay, you’ll have to give me a minute.” You walked to her night side table to get a tissue while she laughed in her vanity chair. 

*knock knock knock* 

“What’s going on in here?” Eddie walked in to see you crying and Violet Rose laughing. 

“She *sniffle* called *sniffle* me *sniffle* Mom.” The dam broke; you couldn’t help it. You had been overcome with so much love. 

“Oh, Angel, come here.” Eddie wrapped his arms around you. He smiled over your shoulder to VR and waved her over. You felt another pair of arms wrap around your shoulder from behind. 

“God, you Munsons are so mushy,” You spoke into Eddie's chest. Your body shook as the both of them giggled around you.

“Don’t tell anyone we have an image to uphold.” Eddie smiled.

“I don’t think anyone is going to be calling you a bad boy after that magazine cover” VR cackled. 

“You’re on thin ice missy, I can make you stay home.” Eddie threatened. 

“Oh baby you can’t do that! We put in hours of work!” You patted your tear-stained cheeks. 

“Fine, I can’t say no to you.” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“OK, people, I have one hour left. I need my hair finished!” She rushed back to the straightening iron. 

“Okay okay” You laughed. “Let’s get you picture perfect.” 

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie had it all planned out for months. He had consulted Violet Rose on proposal ideas. She suggested a pamper day.  He was taking you on a lovely day out, and you were getting a maternity massage, then getting your nails and hair done. Then he would take you shopping if you weren’t too tired before he took you home to cook a nice dinner. After dinner, he would pop the question.

Violet Rose planned a sleepover so you could have the house to yourself. She didn’t want a repeat of the last time she heard about your extracurricular activities. 

When Eddie told you of your plans today, he wasn’t surprised at your shocked reaction. You were seven months pregnant, and he told you it was because you’d been working so hard to finish your album. The release date was pushed back because you felt the songs weren’t working. Eddie told you that the stress wasn’t good for the baby and you needed a day for yourself.

Eddie went with you to every appointment. He also got himself a massage while you had yours. He sat and waited for you while your nails and hair were done without a peep. 

You told him you would go shopping another day; your feet were swollen and still bothering you. You went home and took a nap, and when you woke up, Eddie had placed your favourite slippers by the bed so you didn’t have to step on the cold floor. He also placed your favourite maternity dress out for you next to a note that said to get ready for your date.

You could smell something delicious from the kitchen when you stepped out of the bedroom. As you rounded the corner, you saw a candle-lit dinner ready and plated waiting for you. 

“Baby, what’s this?” You ask, seeing Edie put the final touches on the table.  Eddie turned and smiled. Fuck he looked so good tonight. Eddie was also dressed up. He wore the same black silk shit he wore the first time the two of you met, paired with a nice pair of black dress pants and a classic understated black belt. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Eddie greeted you with a kiss.

“You try growing a person and see how tired you get,” You giggle, walking towards your chair. 

Eddie steps over to pull it out for you. Forever your gentleman. 

“Thank you, baby. What's all this?” You asked as he scooted you in. 

“Can’t a man take care of his perfect, beautiful woman?” He smirks. 

“What did you do?” You ask. He is being suspicious. 

“Now, why would I have had to do something to treat the woman I love?” He raises his brow to you. 

“Don’t know? I feel like you’re doing so much for me today; I’m surprised.” You take a sip of the water he poured you. 

“Well, the night is still young, cheers.” Eddie held up his glass. 

Eddie pulled you out to the yard for fresh air after your meal. The backyard was decked out in what seemed to be hundreds of twinkle lights. There was a gazebo in the back by the pond that you liked to read in. He led you towards it and saw it covered in plush blankets and pillows. 

“Eddie, what’s all this?” You whispered in amazement. Eddie had a team come in and set everything up while the two of you were running your errands.

“Come,” he held your hand as he helped you up the steps. 

“Angel…” Eddie took a deep breath.

“Yes?” You looked up at him, and he swore your eyes twinkled. 

“I have loved you from the moment you flirted with me at your show. I never knew someone could make me feel this way, and honestly, I didn’t believe in love because I had never found it until I met you. I never want to lose you again.  You are the light of my life, my everything. You own my soul. I never have and never will stop loving you.” He knelt down on one knee. 

Your hand flew up to your mouth when he pulled out the ring you found a few months ago.

“Will you spend the rest of forever with me?” 

Your hands shook as he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it up your finger. 

“See, it was always meant for you. I just got it a little too early,” he smirked. 

You crouch over as much as you can with your belly and pull him in for a deep kiss.

“So, is that a yes?” Eddie pulled away.  

“You’re sure you want this baby? You want me forever? Us forever?” You cupped your lower stomach. 

“Of course, baby, I’ve wanted you forever.” he cupped your face with both hands. 

“So?” 

“Yes, Eddie, I’ll marry you,” you smile. 

Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“You sure you wanna be stuck with me forever?” Eddie chuckled. 

“Yes” you cupped your hands over his. 

“Good, because I’m never letting you go ever again.” 

~end~

Tag list: @niallerlover8022 @eddiesguitarskills @all-dogs-die @mimsie95 @mystargirl-interlude @rip-quizilla @munsonology @ali-r3n @callsignraver @battymunson @allthingsjoeq @ceriseheaven @xxhellfiregirlxx @amira0303 @mmunson86 @lofaewrites @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @lokis-army-77 @hellfiremunsonn @hellfire--cult @hellfirenacht @oneforthemunny @lma1986 @mimsie95 @straykeeks @crazycat-ladys-blog @purplehazed-h @starksbabie @hellfire--cult @goth-cowgirl-03 @dashingdeb16 @slayyymisha @xblueriddlex @kellsck @localemofreak @goodbyegh0st @nope-thanks @nabiiturner @neurospicynugget @micheledawn1975 @mikromoon @corrodedcoffincumslut @http-dilflvr

[pers1st]

people help the people

pairing: lucy bronze (platonic) x reader

notes: mentions of suicide, not really ahappy ending, whole lotta angst, don't read if you're not in a good place.

i lost my best friend to suicide about a year ago and it's genuinely been the hardest thing of my life to go through, and even though i feel incredibly selfish for comparing my pain to hers, i just hope that everyone who's in a bad place will feel better soon. your death will hurt people, even if you don't believe it. my messages are always open !!

“Heartbreaking news have hit the football community earlier this morning as Arsenal have confirmed the death of young defender, Y/N Y/L/N. The club has stated that Y/L/N, who also played for the Lionesses, was found dead in her apartment late last night. Her death has been ruled as suicide. Other than that, both the club and the FA have asked for privacy as they deal with this tragic loss. The matches of this week will take place as usual, though the teams have agreed collectively to wear black armbands, along with having a minute of silence ahead of the match’s begin.”

The internet was a cruel place, Lucy realized a week after your death. There were countless articles, invasive messages, offensive comments about how and why your presence had been tragically ripped away from this world. She didn’t understand - how could she? Lucy liked to believe that the two of you had a real bond, with you only being nineteen years old and looking up to Lucy as if she was a Goddess, following her every step, studying her every move, clinging onto her every word as if she spoke a prayer. The admiration wasn’t one-sided, either. Lucy looked up to you. How could she not? You were so young, and faced with so much adversity - the fact that you were as professional as you were at such a young age, you impressed Lucy. You had. Until Keira had filled her in on the news ahead of a training session at Barcelona, shattering Lucy’s heart in the process. You had reached out to Lucy a lot, but never about anything this serious. You had told Lucy a lot of things, but nothing grave enough a reason to take your own life. 

Admittedly, she knew the odd joke you had made - when you had slipped on the ball in front of the whole team, crashing down onto your stomach and banging your head enough to leave a glaringly obvious bump on your forehead, only to realize that the media staff had caught the moment and posted it to TikTok mere moments later. You had said, then, that you might as well have offed yourself. Lucy had laughed. Leah, who had been standing closeby, had laughed. You had laughed as you said it, but the words didn’t leave Lucy’s head anymore. You had said it. Right in front of her. How could she not have noticed?

It took minutes for Lucy’s face to be drenched in tears, hours until she would leave the medical room, which Keira had cleared and led her into, knowing very well that Lucy would not want anyone to see her raw emotions, days until Lucy returned to training, and months for anyone in the football community to address the situation. Mental health. Mental illness. Lights and shadows that came with being exposed to such brutal schedules, invasive comments, being shown off for everyone to see while no one ever required to know anything substantial. People wanted funny comments, smiles, laughter. No one ever cared about the weight dragging any players down, until it was too late - Lucy realized, as everyone and their mother seemed opposed to even speaking your name, only that energy into  searching, very openly, both in comment sections or live on broadcasted TV, for the reason you had left life behind. Lucy searched for it too, though more secludedly.

She re-read your messages for hours, in the little light the moon provided as it fell through the cracks of her bedroom window, deciphering each and every letter, pronouncing the words out loud in different tones, scrolling through your social media to search for any clue. You had had your fair share of problems- you had told Lucy about them. You hadn’t been a big fan of the fans seemingly taking property of you. You hadn’t been ready for the pressure that you would be put under after another one of your defenders was injured and you were re-called from your loan to step into the position immediately. You hadn’t dealt well with the lack of your parents’ presence. Though you had still lived with them, they had rarely attended your matches, always able to come up with an excuse, one that you believed. You had defended them, shielding your family from Lucy's criticism when you had let her know, in another disappointed text message, that they hadn’t been able to make it. You hadn’t wanted to accept the fact that they simply weren’t interested in your career, and Lucy had accepted that. 

Now, though, she wondered whether you had silently accepted it, and been too ashamed to admit it. Lucy knew that it wasn’t your fault - you had been the biggest ray of sunshine, even through your difficulties. You had managed to put a smile on everyone’s face, even though you had always been a little shy. You had been sweet, and kind, and gentle. Had Lucy been your parent- she would’ve let everyone know, would’ve shown you off to the world with pride, would’ve been there for everyone of your big moments. She had managed to fly out for the Conti Cup final, together with Keira, to watch you win the second domestic trophy in your senior career, only this time it was as a key-player rather than a super-sub. 

Lucy was never really able to figure out your exact reasoning - perhaps that was the deal with mental illness. It was an illness. Perhaps there was no reasoning, perhaps the whole point of being ill was the fact that a healthy person would never be able to grasp the darkness that clenched your soul and inevitably drove you to death. If Lucy had learned one thing, though, it was the fact that she was never going to let anyone feel like you must’ve, ever again.

She had seen your parents during the funeral, had witnessed what your death had done to the people, who, though she never really liked them, had raised an absolutely incredible girl. She had seen your room, per her parents request, had seen the blood stained tiles on your bathroom floor, had heard your mother’s mumbled apology for not being able to clean it all. She had seen where you had spent your very last minutes, and she had thought about what must’ve been going on through your head, and it had almost suffocated her. And that was how she found herself here - in a studio in London on her rare off day, with Sky Sports, in an interview room that felt uncomfortable, a seat that pressed into her back, and a microphone in her sweaty hands. 

“I just think that mental health is so, so important. I don’t know what it’s like to feel like… to feel like there’s no way out anymore, but I do know what it feels like to lose a person to their illness. It’s brutal. It makes you think you’ve failed them, and it makes you want to wish you had done more. I don’t want anyone to experience that.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, glancing at the reporter next to her. The man was kind, he handled the interview with delicacy. Your death had shocked the world, and by now, people knew to be respectful. Enough time had passed. Everyone had gotten over the initial shock. Everyone was left behind with that same distaste in their mouth and a hole in their stomach. People were delicate, when they mentioned you. They were still wearing black armbands in the WSL, and Lucy still wore the bracelet she had been given by your parents, taping it up for every match, letting any of her lioness teammates kiss her wrist whenever they scored. 

“Is that why it’s so important to talk about this, to you?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely part of it. But I think most of all, I think we need to speak about it for Y/N. I think if we’d had this kind of open conversation a few months ago, she would’ve maybe reached out, you know. If I had educated myself on the topic better, maybe I could’ve seen the signs. I think it’s more for the people who feel the way she felt. If we can make even a single person reach out for help when they initially wouldn’t, I think it’s paid off.”

The man nodded. 

“It’s just… you know. There’s always another way. Even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t know what it’s like to go through suicidal tendencies, but I do know what it’s like to feel sort of, hopeless. And I know that whatever happens, the world is a better place with you in it. Suicide is such a cruel way to go. I’ve wondered a lot, you know, whether she’s happier now, but I don’t think she is. Y/N had so many ambitions, so many dreams. She had such a bright future and yeah, for a mental illness to rip that away from her, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Lucy sniffed, the tears dwelling in her eyes by now. She had never spoken about your death publically. No one had, not exactly. Sure, there had been underlying comments, minutes of silence and the odd mention of your name, but people had been cautious to actually speak about the situation. She couldn’t blame them, because fuck- this hurt. She saw your face whenever she closed her eyes. She heard your voice whenever she couldn’t sleep, your laughter was engraved into her brain. There would not be a day in her life that she didn’t miss you. It hurt. A lot. The realization that you weren’t just a few countries away, that you wouldn’t call her back later, that you wouldn’t call her after an important match or visit her in Barcelona like you had said you would.

“You’ve been kind of hesitant to agree to this interview. Why do you think that is? I mean, no one has really spoken about Y/N’s death as openly as you have.”

“Yeah, I think it’s difficult. To admit this kind of pain. I mean- it shouldn’t be, you know? I think it’s important to speak about this kind of loss and all the hurt that comes with it. Not out of a place to put blame, I’d never blame her. But just to, yeah, make people realize how bad this kind of loss hurts. How much people miss her, because we all miss her, even though some people are hesitant to say it out loud.”

“How do you feel about people being so hesitant?”

“I don’t think you can blame them, you know. Grief looks different for anyone. And I guess I’m a fixer kind of person. I want to fix things, and even though I’ll never be able to, you know, fix this, I do hope that by speaking up about this, I can potentially save someone from doing the same thing. Let people know that mental health should never be a taboo, encourage people to speak up before it’s too late. Because the world will miss you, even if you don’t think it will. The world is a different place without you in it”, she concluded, though she was mostly speaking to you.

It was true. The world was different, now that you were gone. Your friends- mostly the younger girls in the Arsenal squad, seemed to be less talkative. Arsenal was a different place- Leah had told Lucy during your funeral. Everyone was a little less talkative, the loss hanging heavy over the team. Kim worried a lot, about the younger ones, whereas the older, more experienced players, dealt with the same kind of guilt Lucy felt. 

Barcelona was different too, though you had never played there. Alexia and Patri seemed to be checking on everyone a little more frequently, holding the team together, making sure everyone was okay. Lucy wasn’t, of course, though her team tried their best to help her move forward.

She did, eventually. England camps became less heavy, and when England won the Euros in 2025 again, during Lucy’s last match, she held up your shirt proudly, keeping the medal that had your name engraved in it, without shedding a single tear. When Arsenal won the Super League that year, they did the same thing. Lucy still felt a pinch in her chest everytime one of your teams reached another milestone, because she had wanted you to experience those kind of things. You deserved to experience your first league title, your second Euros, but more than anything-

She envisioned the life you could’ve lived, away from football. You deserved to fall in love, to visit Barcelona and every other place in the world you would’ve wanted to. You deserved to move out of your parents home into your first ever flat, you deserved to get a kitten and name it something ridiculous, the way you had always planned. You deserved to feel the rays of sun on your skin on the odd day it didn’t rain in London, you deserved to go on another trip to Ibiza and terrorize the rest of the girls in the club for another night. You deserved to be a bridesmaid at a wedding, the way you had always wanted to. You deserved a lot more than dying at nineteen. Everyone did. And Lucy would spend the rest of her career, potentially the rest of her life, making sure that people who felt the same way you had would feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful, would live a little longer. Anything in her power. She would do it all.

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x male!reader

So, this is the last part in the Court of Owls reader. PART 1, PART 2 and PART 3

Summary: (Y/N) can't stand being in the manor anymore. So he plots his escape, but he never expects the help from one of the residents.

Warnings: escape, (Y/N) being done with the family, talks about bad mental health, this is so rushed I'm sorry, I wanted to just write it.

(Y/N) didn't know what to do any more. He was still in that cell and the boys were trying even harder. He doesn't remember when he was in this bad place. Where he doesn't have any motivation or just any passion.

He never wanted to be in that place.

He was once in that place once before. He just disappeared from Bruce's and Talia's lives and he was lost. He was young, his parents being complete opposites and he was at the crossroad. Who does he follow? His father, the hero that everyone loves and does good? Or his mother who is one of the best assassins in the world?

He shook his head. No.

He made his choice from the moment he disappeared. He was going to be what he wants to be. He won't listen to either of them. He will be his own person.

But now?

He felt trapped in a psychological sense. He knows he will never conform to Bruce's and Talia's wishes. No matter how hard they tried. When did he fell like he had no way out? When did he feel like his mental health was decaying? Even before the so called crossroad?

Before he met Harvey and the others, it wasn't good. But after meeting them, he felt better. They didn't judge him for he did and Harley gave him that help he needed. According to her, the Court was just a vent to let out that anger.

That made a lot of sense.

But from time to time, he did wonder about his life with Bruce. What would be his codename? Would he be another Robin? Or would he wear the bat symbol?

It has been a couple more weeks. (Y/N) wasn't giving up, however, he was allowed a bit of freedom. Every 2 or 3 days one of them would walk him out to the garden. Damian was the one who volunteered the most.

He also took notice of shifts in the cave. They never really left him alone, there was always someone there.

He sighed as he read one of his books. How was he going to escape?

" Master (Y/N)? "

(Y/N) lifted his head at the familiar voice. Alfred... (Y/N) liked Alfred. He didn't push (Y/N) like others. His only concern was that (Y/N) ate and drank enough.

" Hey Alfred. "

" How are you doing today? " The older man asked, stopping in front of the door.

" Okay. "

Despite the fact that (Y/N) liked Alfred, he doesn't give him anything he could use against Bruce. Nothing. You can never know.

" Well, that's good. You will have about 2 hours from the moment I let you out. "

(Y/N) turned his head, frowning at the British man. What the hell? What does that mean?

" What? "

" You have around 100,000 dollars here. Also, there is a ticket booked. I heard you know French, so there is a ticket for Lyon. A friend of mine will wait for you and drop you off at your new apartment. There will be a document from the bank with your bank account. It will enough for a year or so. "

(Y/N)'s mouth dropped to the floor. Holy shit. What the hell?

" I suggest you say your goodbyes to your friends here in Gotham. "

(Y/N) stood up, quickly hugging the man. He can do this.

" Thank you. " (Y/N) whispered, letting some tears fall out.

Alfred just patted his back.

(Y/N) quickly visited Two Face and Harley. All the visits ended in tears and sobs. (Y/N) had to say goodbye to the only good father figure and a good friend.

Pamela wasn't able to say goodbye. She was far too broken to do that.

(Y/N) sighed as he dropped the bag on the floor of his apartment. It was a simple place, with necessities. He was happy to have a TV. He took a quick glance at the envelope on the dark table.

He was going to take a look at it later. Right now, he was going to enjoy his new life. He smiled for the second time in a long while.

Now he was free.

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt10}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of homophobia, hinting at religious trauma Word count: 1479 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll 

Part 10 of the Mamma Mia series

As promised, the following morning the three of them show up to your hotel room with breakfast. You gratefully accept the take away mug Mark hands you as you let them in. It reminds you of that first conversation you had with the three of them at the beginning of September and you can’t help but feel a little emotional at how far you’ve come since then. 

Sitting down at the small breakfast table in your room, you accept the smoothie bowl Kevin hands you. It’s a little cramped, but all four of you fit around it. Lewis and Kevin catch you up on how their teammates and some of their closer friends on the grid fared during the race while Mark fills in the gaps with what he’s heard from DC and Jenson.

“I can’t believe the FIA ever thought this weekend would go without a hitch. The fact that Pirelli set very strict pit stops windows tells you all you need to know, really,” you say, shaking your head. 

“I’ve heard rumours that they’re looking at moving it later into the season to avoid these high temperatures,” Mark adds.

“That’s the least they can do. Greedy vultures,” you reply, muttering the last bit under your breath, earning a chuckle from Lewis.

“Wait,” you say, a realisation hitting you, “if we’re really doing this, does that mean I am also adopting an Australian rookie?” Mark laughs, head thrown back.

“I guess so. Hope you’re alright with that?”

“I mean, Mick has become like a little brother. Him and his family are the closest I have to one. Him and Jasmine; she’s my oldest friend. I-.. I cut contact with my parents when I was in my early twenties. They’re very religious and it got to a point where it became detrimental to my mental health to allow them access.” Even remembering their disappointment when you went into engineering and not pursued a career in teaching –which was deemed much more suitable for a woman by your parents– makes you feel about two inches tall. It was impossible to live up to their standards and their constant meddling in your love life to find you a man so you’d settle down and become the perfect little house wife messed with your perception of love a lot more than you even realised. 

“That’s also why I completely panicked when I realised I am in love with all three of you,” you continue, pushing through the uneasiness of the memories, “A relationship is meant to be between one man and one woman according to them, and while I have done a lot of unlearning over the years, this took me by surprise.” 

“Thank you for trusting us,” Kevin breaks the silence that follows. He rests a hand on your knee, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m trying. When you’ve been on your own for so long it’s hard to let people in. But I want this to work, not just for me but also for this little peanut,” you say, putting a hand on your stomach. 

“We’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” Mark says, to which Kevin and Lewis nod in agreement. 

“I know we will have to let at least our teams know about what’s going on, but outside of that can we hold off until the end of the season? I hadn’t considered the logistics of dating three people and it’s a little overwhelming.” 

“Works for me,” Kevin nods, “and how about we try to have a proper sit down dinner with the four of us at least once a week? We can think about next steps after the season, but that way we’ll at least see one another outside of the track.” You mull this over. It’s not a bad idea, even if it might prove difficult to get everyone in the same place without living together.

“I’d like that,” you reply.

“I don’t mind us using my house in Oxford for that. It’s got plenty of space for everyone,” Mark offers. You shoot him a thankful smile; staying in the UK as much as possible while you figure out next steps does make it a lot easier for you with regards to your responsibilities at the factory. The anxious flutter you had felt from the moment you had woken up is slowly disappearing, and in its place a calm washes over you. You know that it is not going to be easy, navigating this relationship with so much media attention and different moving parts, but you also know you owe it to this baby to at least try and make it work. There are five races left this season, and with the triple header coming up, you know it is going to be mayhem. 

“Wanna call Toto together?” Lewis asks you, bringing you back to the present. You nod, but bite your lip.

“I just-.. Before we do, I just need to know that you’re all okay with raising a child that might possibly not be yours by blood. I know how Kevin feels, but..” you trail off.

“As long as they’re healthy and happy, I don’t mind. I just know that I am looking forward to doing this alongside you,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up to go phone his boss. 

“Same here baby. Family is more than just blood. I can’t wait to be one of three dads for peanut and spoil them and you,” Lewis reassures you.

The phone call with Mercedes went about as painless as could be. After what happened and your reaction on Sunday, Toto had his suspicions that the two of you had begun dating. The fact that Kevin and Mark were now also part of that didn’t seem to phase him whatsoever, or if it did your boss had the acting skills to not let it show. You did have to promise him to give Susie a call whenever you felt like you needed a girly chat. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Lewis muses, pulling you against him. You hum in agreement, content to just stay like this for a minute when the peace is rudely interrupted.

“No. No, you listen to me Gene,” Kevin seethes as he paces the length of your hotel room, “Do you genuinely think they are spying on Haas? We are dead fucking last, what kind of delusion are you smoking?” Kevin looks up and locks eyes with you. Without a moment's hesitation you get up from the couch and cross the room. Kevin holds out his hand and visibly relaxes ever so slightly when you lace your fingers together.

“Guenther had no issues with this relationship. What difference-..” He’s quiet for a moment as he listens to the team owner. Whatever excuse Gene is giving him, it’s the wrong one; Kevin’s eyes flare in anger as he clenches his jaw. A quiet fury simmers through your veins at the way Kevin is being treated. The magnitude of this feeling takes you by surprise, this notion of how you’d go to war for him –for all three of them. You know Kevin doesn’t need you to fight his battles, so instead of taking the phone from him to tell his team owner just what you think of him, you squeeze his hand. 

“No, let me stop you there. I know my sponsors well enough to know that this won’t change anything financially. And even if it did, I am sure that there are plenty of brands who will gladly take their place if it means they can boast about their so-called diversity pledge. And if you talk about my family like that ever again, I quit.” Before Gene can even respond, Kevin hangs up and throws the phone onto the dining table. You take his face in your hands, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him closer for a hug. Kevin wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You alright, mate?” Mark asks. Kevin nods, taking a deep breath before straightening up. 

“Steiner was no issue, surprisingly. Gene is a different story. Guenther had forwarded the information because it involves an employee of a rival, just out of courtesy. That fucking idiot first insulted my intelligence by saying how they are using me for information on Haas, and then began some rant about how this would cost the team money, and then came for me personally with some homophobic slurs I don’t feel like repeating.” 

“I’m sorry man. If there’s anything we can do,” Lewis offers. Kevin nods gratefully. 

“I’ll let you know.” You can feel your nose prickle with tears at how ready they are to help one another. The fact that Kevin referred to the four of you as his family isn’t lost on you, and it fills you with so much love and gratitude that despite everything, you have found a home in these three men. 

I can't believe it's almost over, I have been working on this fic since October. There's an epilogue left which will come next week

Again, biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader. I would be lost without you babe 😘

Please let me know your thoughts, your comments, tags, and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

[wooahaes]

i can't run away

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fem!reader [ft. changbin + minho skz, youngtaek golden child, among others]

genre: college au. angst. unrequited love (best friends growing apart).

word count: 13.5k~

warnings: angst. two idiots pining for each other and doing nothing about it. reader gets harassed at one point while at a party (off screen, only mentioned). food + alcohol mentions throughout. reader having a disrespectful roommate + mentions of sex (via reader getting repeatedly kicked out of her dorm room by a roommate w no heads up). loss of major friendship. slight health scare within reader's family. reader crying several times throughout. mentions of break-ups. abandonment via ditched plans (multiple times). growing up, growing apart. ask to add additional warnings.

daisy's notes: i've had this planned for a While now. sequel fic with a happy ending to come.

Your college years were meant to be this big step forward in life. Maybe that was why you were panicking so much the night before move-in day.

As you laid in bed, you mentally went back over everything. Your move-in time was early in the morning tomorrow, which meant you needed to get to sleep soon so that you wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for your parents to deal with come morning. Everything had always been packed away nice and neat and, aside from a few last minute things, was completely ready to go. You had checked everything twice before you and your family packed things up, and the bare walls and, well, everything of your room was enough proof for you. It wasn’t like you had the car packed slam full—but you took everything you would need. Some decorations for your side of the room, your clothing, school supplies… You weren’t the kind of person who hoarded things. Therefore everything you had was in that car. Your parents would be driving you to campus and helping you unpack, and then leaving you there to rely on public transportation within the city. Not that you minded: you liked not having to worry about gas prices. Despite the fact you knew everything was taken care of, all you could do was stare up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling with this ugly pit of dread in your stomach.

Beside your head, your phone buzzed with a text, screen lighting up. Against the background of you and him smushed into the same frame (a selfie from your movie night a few weeks ago), Vernon was asking if you were still awake.

[baja blast 🚀] god you’re insufferable

[baja blast 🚀] what if i WAS asleep rn? huh?

[mr chwe 👽] you’ll live :)

[mr chwe 👽] i’m outside btw

[mr chwe 👽] also not to bribe you but i brought taco bell.

Shoving your blankets off of you, you made your way to your window to see that Vernon was, in fact, standing outside. He squinted up at your window before smiling proudly, holding up the bag triumphantly while not even risking the drinks in the cup holder he was carrying. He looked so, so stupidly proud of himself. Despite how your heart raced a little at the sight of your long-time best friend cheesing at you, you rolled your eyes and fought back a smile. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making you happy this soon. Snagging your hoodie from your nearby chair, you made your way downstairs and out of the house. Soon enough, you were sitting next to your best friend, watching him carefully dish out your food.

“We’re still getting breakfast tomorrow, right?”

Completely unrelated to your friendship, which had been set in stone since middle school, Vernon just so happened to be going to the same college as you. While you had been excited over your own program, Vernon had caught sight of their film program and practically fell in love with it (although you couldn’t remember all the details he gushed to you about). Plus he guessed the added bonus of having you around did sweeten the deal a little bit. The two of you had decided to get breakfast tomorrow morning after you both moved into your dorms… Although you knew Vernon pretty well at this point. He’d already met two of his roommates. One of them was some education major named Boo Seungkwan, who Vernon had already said he’d introduce you to sometime. The other was Seo… something. You couldn’t recall his given name, but he was ‘chill enough’ according to Vernon. 

You tore open a sauce packet, giving a casual shrug. “If your roommates don’t steal you away first.”

“Hey, no, c’mon,” he lightly kicked you. “If they wanna come, then I’m fine with it if you are. I think you’re really gonna love Seungkwan. He’s super nice.”

Not more than I love you, you know, you had wanted to say. Instead, you shoved the thought back. The two of you had been friends for years at this point and you’d managed to hide your crush pretty damn well, so you didn’t need for it to start getting in the way now. And, sure, said crush had only developed two years ago (something about the sight of your best friend being ready to throw hands with your shitty ex-boyfriend was enough to endear you to him for life), but Vernon was always your best friend first. There was no way you were going to destroy your friendship with him by confessing. College would be different, you were sure of it. Somehow, you would find a way to move on and keep your bond safe.

But what if I want you to myself for another day? What then, Vernon?

You looked back up at him, licking sauce off of your fingers from where it spilled over your food and onto them. “You really haven’t met the other guy yet?” 

He looked up at you, one hand adjusting the band of his beaning. “Who, Chan? Nah. I mean, he emailed me a couple times. Seems pretty nice, though. Apparently he’s this super smart whiz kid who graduated early, so he’s younger than me and Seungkwan. Same age as Changbin, though.”

Changbin. You nodded along, committing the name to memory. Seo Changbin. Lee Chan. Boo Seungkwan. You chewed slowly, acutely aware of how perfectly Vernon knew your order by now. Same way you knew his. “Anything else?”

Vernon shook his head, only to stop dead in his tracks. “Oh, shit, wait—” He reached into his pockets, snagging his phone from it. “Apparently he’s this hot-shot dancer who’s set on joining the guys dance team. I found him on YouTube at some dance competition—he’s good.”

You’d already heard about the dance team. It wasn’t easy to get into, but that was due to the team being pretty damn legendary since several famous choreographers now came from there. Allegedly, the current dance captain of the guy’s team was remarkable strict when it came to performing every since he took over the role last year (something Hoseok—you’d never cared for the team because you couldn’t join, so you never committed the name to memory), but they were thriving nonetheless. Rumor said he was already being offered a job with some huge company to choreograph for idols. He was strict, but definitely not without reason if that were the case. Sure enough, Vernon was true to his word: this Chan guy was talented. 

“What about you?” Vernon asked after he set his phone down. “You’ve only got the one roommate. What’s she like?”

Ah, yes. The pre-med major you knew next to nothing about because she barely responded to your emails—which, truthfully, wasn’t a huge deal. She seemed pretty nice from what you could gather, but you only imagined she’d be busy since she offhandedly said she’d be spending most of her time in the library. Honestly, you didn’t mind it as much. Whereas you’d be staying in a smaller room with a single roommate and a communal bathroom, Vernon would have a suite with a shared bathroom between the two rooms. Maybe if you could trust the four guys to keep it clean (you’d seen Vernon’s room growing up—you just hoped at least one or two of the others were cleaner than him), you’d be fine with sleeping over once or twice for movie nights with Vernon. Something told you that Vernon’s friendship with Seungkwan was going to be different than whatever you had with your roommate. Apparently the two were talking way more than the few messages you’d exchanged with your own roommate. 

Not that you were jealous, of course. (Maybe you were a little of how easily they were getting along.)

“It doesn’t feel real yet, y’know?” You broke the comfortable silence that had grown between the two of you. “College, I mean.”

He nodded along, leaning against one of the posts on your front porch. “I get it,” he said after a long sip from his cup of soda. “It’s weird. Kinda still feels like we just met yesterday.”

Sixth grade science class, the first class you ever took in middle school. Your teacher had decided to randomly generate her seating chart, and the two of you had ended up at that same table. Call it chance or fate, you were glad either way. Vernon had liked spaceships you doodled on your notes, and quietly asked if you believed in aliens. You had looked at him, staring for a little too long and apparently scaring the shit out of him (he confessed that he’d been terrified you were about to chew him out), and confirmed that you definitely did… and the rest was pretty much history. Although you weren’t a hundred percent sure of your stance on aliens anymore (the universe was huge, you weren’t sure if you were entirely alone in it), the two of you had kept the emojis as a reminder of where the two of you began. A rocket by your name in Vernon’s phone with rotating remarks (baja blast was the most recent after you choked on it due to some stupid meme he’d shown you), and he’d always have some variation of his own name (Mr. Chwe after your karaoke night where you dragged him into singing “Mr. Chu” with you) with that little alien emoji right next to it.

“I’m glad you’re in this with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you’d even fully processed them, and you suddenly looked up to figure out what you needed to do next. Apologize? Distract him? Kiss him, if this were a movie? Vernon just sat there, staring at you with slightly parted lips. 

Then he blinked, realizing you were watching him, and threw on that charmer smile he sometimes used when flirting with girls. “Yeah,” he said, a little distant as he started to pack up the trash from your late-night meal. “Same. We’re gonna destroy this campus, y’know?”

You’d just laughed at him, making some jab that you wouldn’t remember in a few weeks before you moved to help him clean up. He’d toss the garbage once he got home as he tucked the other crunchwrap he’d bought (for Sofia, no doubt—even for a meal with you, he was always thinking of her) into the front pocket of his hoodie. You stood on your front porch, watching him walk down to the end of your driveway before turning back. He waved at you, and all you could do was smile and wave back before heading back inside. 

True to his word, Vernon got breakfast with you that following morning after the two of you had moved into your dorms. He brought along Seungkwan (the only roommate who had moved in—Chan and Changbin would be moving into their room later), who seemed to get along with, well, anyone who spoke to him for more than a few seconds. You had listened as Vernon started talking about this record store off campus that he’d apply to work for so he’d have extra spending money (“Y’know, for dates and stuff?”), making your own mental list of the places you applied to work at both on and off campus. 

Weirdly enough, when you watched the animated way Seungkwan and Vernon spoke to one another, you felt this odd sinking feeling in your chest. But instead you decided to wash it down with a coke and rejoin the conversation, Seungkwan all too happy to include you in his music talk.

Freshman year, a few months in, and Vernon had already invited you to an off-campus party.

He’d meshed well with several of the sophomores in his general education courses, and that had been his “in” to this kind of thing. He’d told you a bit about them, and that some guy named Seokmin was the one who invited him along. When Vernon asked if he could invite you along, Seokmin seemed completely on board—the more the merrier, apparently—and said he’d pick the two of you up wherever Vernon told him to. Which, turns out, to be your dorm. The night of the party left Vernon lying on your bed as you looked through your wardrobe, your roommate out for the night, studying yet again. You were just trying to find something nice to wear.

You let out a sigh. “I don’t know about this, dude,” you said, pushing aside your shirts to find a decent one for a party. Whereas Vernon stood on that line between introvert and extrovert, you were a little more introverted and it seemed to show in your wardrobe in that stereotypical way. You preferred comfier clothing to the traditional “party” attire other people sometimes wore whenever they felt like (no shade to them to be fair: they rocked the look). Unfortunately for you, it left you a little out of luck for parties. One of your new friends, Minho, had even pegged you as being more of a bookish introvert from your wardrobe alone. At least it meant you were comfortable in class. “You said this party is gonna be huge.” 

“And I’ll be right there with you the entire time,” he said. “C’mon. How many parties have you gone to already?”

There was this soft, pale blue sweater sitting in front of you that Vernon had bought for your birthday last year. It wasn’t expensive or anything, but… did you want to risk it at a college party? Sure, you could get any stains out if you needed to, even if you had to stay up all night to do it. You sighed. “Zero.”

“And how many have I invited you to?”

“I dunno. Four? Most of the time you run off with your buddies and forget all about me.”

“I don’t forget,” he said, frowning. “I only invite you when I know you aren’t busy. You’re the one who signed up for an extra class during the first week—I don’t wanna bother you when I know you’re studying.”

Of course Vernon was thinking of you. Despite his thoughtfulness, you pouted as you looked over your shoulder at him. “Close your eyes so I can change or I’m gonna change my mind about going.”

Wordlessly, he turned over onto his side, and the mattress groaned underneath him as he did. He settled, and didn’t move any further, giving you the chance to strip your shirt off and drop it into the bottom of your closet, staring at your shirts again. Shit, which one…?

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said, quiet enough that you weren’t sure whether you were supposed to hear him or not.

Maybe he had a slight point there. The two of you were close. You had changed in front of him plenty of times before without thinking about it—hell, you didn’t even care when the two of you were in your early teens. You’d go to the pool with him and strip off your cover-up before an adult scolded you for it, saying something about how it wasn’t “proper” for girls to do that kind of thing around boys. Why did Vernon get to pull his shirt off, but you had to go to a changing room? You’d always despised it, but maybe it was for the best now. If people saw you and Vernon like this, they’d ask you what the two of you were. If he was your boyfriend or not. You weren’t exactly ready to confront those feelings and feel the bitter sting of rejection quite yet. Plucking a band t-shirt from a hangar, you stared down at it before looking at Vernon… and then you tossed it at him, pulling on that baby blue sweater instead and deciding to change into a nice pair of jeans quickly. People might give you looks, but you were genuinely the kind of person who got cold easily. You didn’t need to give Vernon an excuse to push his jacket onto you, too, always insisting that you stay warm. 

His phone dinged a moment later. “Oh, shit,” he sat up, “Hao’s outside.”

You looked up from where you were stepping into a pair of black jeans. “Hao?”

“Hao’s one of the guys—” Vernon turned around without thinking, only to immediately whip back around to give you privacy. “There’s Minghao, the philosophy major. Super smart dude. Seokmin’s the theater guy who invited us to this, aaand Mingyu, who’s still stuck between a couple things but he said he’d make up his mind before the end of the semester.”

“Is anyone I know going to be there?”

“Seungkwan’s coming,” Vernon said. “Chan’s busy with a paper. You’ll be stuck in the back with me, though.”

“Gross,” you stuck your tongue out. “You sure I can’t talk Seungkwan into switching?”

He rolled his eyes, throwing your shirt back at you as he hid his smile. “You know you love me.”

You flopped onto the space next to Vernon so that you could pull on one of your boots, and he looked at you with a smile. “So you always say.”

After lacing up your boots, the two of you made your way down to the van that was awaiting the two of you. Introductions happened after you were both squared away in the back. You did notice that Seungkwan gave Mingyu a look when he asked if the two of you were really just friends. Had he been able to do it more secretly, maybe Seungkwan would have kicked him for it. But you were more focused on learning a little more about Vernon’s friends. Minghao was a dancer on that prestigious dance team alongside Chan and a few other guys that Vernon knew, and he’d met Vernon through his philosophy class (he’d once been a literature major, only to switch at the end of freshman year). Seokmin had met him in the dining hall one day, inviting him over when he was about to eat alone since you were in a lecture, and the two seemed to hit it off pretty well—which led to Vernon meeting Mingyu. Seungkwan had already known Mingyu from a class the two had shared, and he’d known Seokmin through the school choir. It made you feel a little self conscious that the only person who really knew you here was Vernon (as you only knew Seungkwan through him). But Vernon’s shoulder had bumped into your own, and it reassured you. Making friends would be easier if you just talked to them a little more. That was why you were coming with him: to meet people.

Unfortunately for you, the party was pretty fucking packed. Vernon had swore on the ride over that if he wasn’t with you, then one of his friends would be watching your back. He knew how shitty people could be to girls at parties, and he seemed intent on staying close to keep you safe. With a hand at the middle of your back, he’d introduced you to a few people he already knew. From across the crowded room, he could hear someone yelling his name (some dude named Seungcheol who he knew from work), and Vernon had excused himself from you to go say hi. Vernon would introduce him to you some other time when Seungcheol was… well, sober. He’d carried off his red solo cup of beer and felt Seungcheol throw an arm around his shoulder the moment he was close enough to, already introducing himself to a couple other seniors—Jeonghan and Joshua. 

Time slipped through his fingers like the beer in his cup, though, and it took several drinks for Vernon to realize… He couldn’t see you anywhere. Fuck. He’d gotten carried away with talking to Joshua (who had been abstaining from drinking that night—he was there to watch Jeonghan and Seungcheol) about the States that at some point, he stopped glancing back to check on you. Seungcheol had already teased him one too many times about “that girl he obviously likes” while giving some tips on how to hook up with you (out of the question: Vernon liked you too much and knew you too well to try and treat you so casually) that he’d stopped looking so often. Somewhere along the way, you’d just disappeared at some point. He excused himself from the conversation, glancing at his phone to realize just how long he’d been talking to them. He avoided the occupied bedrooms, knocking on bathrooms and calling your name, pushing through people-heavy rooms in an attempt to see that baby blue sweater.

“Oh, her?” Seokmin had said when Vernon finally found him and Minghao in the kitchen. “She left. I told you maybe half an hour ago.”

Vernon furrowed his brow. He hadn’t even seen Seokmin… hadn’t he? “What?”

Seokmin glanced around, and guided a little further into the kitchen to get away from the loud music, right next to where an open window was.. The cool night air hit his warmed skin, and Seokmin’s gaze could have sobered him up alone. “She told me she was going to get an Uber and went home,” he repeated. “Weren’t you listening?”

Vernon scrambled for his phone again. “Yeah,” he lied, “totally. Just wanted to make sure you remembered…”

[ mr headphones 👽] did you get back safe?

Seokmin glanced from Vernon’s face to the illuminated screen, not bothering to try and read it. “Right,” he said. “I’m going back inside. She’s probably fine. Mingyu’s been outside—You can ask him if he saw her leave.” 

Vernon barely responded, and Seokmin merely merged back into the conversation with Minghao. He dumped his drink into the sink, and made his way outside instead. Fuck, you’d left early? And you didn’t even tell him anything? If you weren’t having fun, he would have ditched this place to be with you. Wherever you wanted to go, he’d follow. What was the point of bringing you out if you were miserable the entire time? He stared down at his phone, tapping his foot as he waited for something—even the response bubble with those three little dots—to pop up in your texts. He should call you. But his head was still fuzzy from the alcohol in his system. He scratched the back of his neck, moving further away from the doors. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank tonight to begin with. Not when you were with him. He kicked himself for even inviting you out. Parties weren’t your thing—not big ones like this, anyway. You were fine in situations where you knew people, he’d just thrown you to the sharks and then entirely fucked off because Seungcheol called him over.

Maybe he should have just set up a movie night for the two of you like he wanted to. And… if Seungkwan or Chan had wanted to join, they could have. It could be like old times again.

[🚀] 👍

He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the message popped up. You were fine. Most likely, you’d made it back to campus and gone up to your room, and then taken a shower. Vernon leaned back against the wall, letting his head fall back against the brick as he shut his eyes. There were other parties he could have taken you to, other parties with less people than this one. This place was too cramped, too crowded, and you were probably getting overheated in that stupid cute sweater you loved wearing so much. You were too pretty in it for him to say otherwise, though, even though he felt like it was a bad idea when drunk idiots could spill their shitty beer all over it. 

Minghao had finally found him again outside while he was rounding up the people he was responsible for. How long had he stood outside, bobbing his head to the blasting music he could still hear—albeit muffled—from where he stood? He kept staring down at his phone screen and that singular emoji from you, this nagging feeling in the back of his head. He wasn’t sure how long, but it’d been long enough for Minghao to drag him back to the car where the others were. Seungkwan was silently toying with the paper wrapper of the water bottle someone (Minghao, he’d find out barely a minute later: he carried them with him for the drunk idiots he had to get home) had pressed into his hands. Seokmin was still giggling about something, apparently having drank more since Vernon last saw him. Mingyu kept whispering things to Seokmin that’d send him into further giggles. In the back of that van, Vernon suddenly felt your absence way more. On the drive over, he’d been showing you stupid memes and cat videos he’d been compiling in a playlist for you. He’d heard your laugh, and felt the weight and warmth of your body as it pressed against his. Now all he could smell was the reek of alcohol and Seokmin’s laugh, alongside the feeling of Seungkwan staring at him every so often, lips pressed tight together.

It wasn’t until long after they were back at the dorm that Seungkwan finally spoke up. He’d been standing next to him in the bathroom, cleaning his face while Vernon was brushing his teeth. “Is she okay?”

Vernon looked up with a muffled “hmpfh?” in response. He’d sobered up more since Minghao brought him back, walking the two up to the entrance of their building and making them promise to drink more water once they got to their room. One movie later, and Vernon’s head finally felt a little clearer than it did before.

“Your friend.” Seungkwan paused, and then said your name after a moment. “Someone kept harassing her at the party. He only left her alone once I stepped in, but she left after that happened.” 

Vernon spat hard into the sink, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and whipping around to face Seungkwan. “What?”

“Ew.” Seungkwan wrinkled his nose as he glanced at Vernon’s sleeve, but let whatever he wanted to say next. He turned back to himself in the mirror, “Minghao offered to drive her home, but she turned it down in case one of us needed him. She said she’d get an Uber, and he went outside to wait until he saw her get in. I think he said he got her number and told her to text him as soon as she was home safely.” 

… Why hadn’t you said any of that to him? Fuck, why didn’t you find him when that guy was messing with you? He would have outright told him to go fuck himself and to leave you alone. He looked at the time on his phone again and scowled: it was far too late to call you. If Seungkwan had mentioned it earlier… No. It wasn’t Seungkwan’s fault. Vernon would just text you in the morning and get breakfast with you as an apology for not being there for you when you needed him (and talk to you about what happened, if you were willing).

Sure enough, you’d agreed, and the two of you agreed to meet at this quaint little place off campus. He sat across from you, watching as you tore the paper off of your straw with this content smile. You pushed it into your cup of orange juice and looked up at him with his gleeful look in your eyes, always happy to start a morning like this. Any other time, he’d find it cute and your love of the drink endearing. But now…

“Hey…” He said. “Why didn’t you find me last night?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him, lips wrapped around your straw as you took a long sip. A moment later, you set the cup back down. “I didn’t want to bother you. Did you have fun? You guys looked like you were.”

“That’s not important,” he said. “Seungkwan told me some guy kept harassing you.”

Your smile fell, and you sank back into the cushioned seat. “You… You looked really into the conversation you were having with that guy. I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

He sighed, “That doesn’t matter—” Vernon’s eyes met yours, and he frowned at you. “You’re my best friend. If some asshole is bothering you, you should tell me. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“I was fine, Vernon,” you said. “I wasn’t having fun, so that’s why I left. You fit into parties like that way better than I do. I don’t even know why you bothered inviting me.”

I asked you to come because I wanted you there, Vernon wanted to say. Deep down, he hoped to maybe show you off a little. To have someone maybe try and ask outright if you were his girlfriend (someone that wasn’t Mingyu, who he could chalk it up as Mingyu teasing him), and maybe use that to break into that conversation. The “are we just friends?” conversation he’d been wanting to have with you, yet kept shying away from because what if he misread all of it? The two of you were close. It’d taken him forever to figure out his feelings for you, and he was sure you felt… something to him. You hadn’t seen anyone else since classes started, at least. And he hadn’t seen anyone either. Maybe…

Maybe he was waiting for you to take that first step. Whether it was you telling him that he wasn’t being stupid and that you liked him back, or you straight up kissing him… He needed that sign in neon lights. He wasn’t going to gamble and fuck this up. 

“Still…” His foot nudged yours underneath the table. “I care about you a lot, y’know? If you aren’t having fun, then we’ll go do something else.” He paused, and extended his pinkie out to you. “We’re a pair.”

There was that pretty smile he loved so much. You rolled your eyes a second later, locking your pinkie around his own. “Yeah,” you said. “We’re a pair… But you’re still paying for our pancakes.”

(Fuck, he loved you too much.)

Vernon stopped inviting you to parties. 

It took you a little longer than it should have to realize it, considering it had been a few months since then. He’d go out, post pictures and status updates on his social media of and about him and his friends and whatever they were up to. That didn’t mean he stopped inviting you places altogether: he just started making different plans for you. Smaller get-togethers with his (and your) friends, things that were more comfortable for you. Seungkwan always treated you kindly whenever you came around, happy to keep you involved in the conversation whenever he noticed it was veering a little too off to one side. Sometimes Chan would join in, and Changbin—the other roommate, who you actually ended up befriending pretty easily—did, too. Sometimes you’d invite Minho along, too. Your little group would either go out on the weekends, finding something fun to do within the city. Other times, you would all curl up in their suite and watch movies together (or play games—Chan had a Switch and the extra controllers so that you could all play alongside him). You’d never forget waking up next to Vernon during finals week. The two of you had been studying for the psychology class that you shared. For a moment, you wondered if this was what your life could look like if you just told him. But you’d seen how feelings could ruin a friendship: two of your friends in high school had broken apart because one confessed their unreciprocated feelings. They’d never been the same. You wouldn’t let that be you and Vernon.

So you shoved your feelings aside again and again. Even now, as you were waiting alone in a fast food place for Vernon. He was standing toward the front, waiting for your order. This was supposed to be some kind of study session, actually: the two of you had a biology lab that you needed to work on that was due a few days from now. It was Vernon’s idea to do it over lunch. Unlike last semester, the two of you shared way more gen ed classes—save for your English one, although he was just in the other section for it.

Despite your confidence in your friendship with Vernon… You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he pitied you a little more than he did before. You’d been fine with making friends in high school, but college? Aside from Vernon, you had to build things back up entirely. You had Lee Minho—he’d been in one of your gen ed classes last semester, and he was in your English class now—but that was the only real friend you’d made on your own. Then again, you kind-of talked to the guy in your Japanese class, Youngtaek. He’d confided with you during your first class that he could speak Japanese just fine, but the school wouldn’t let him test out of it, so he’d just take it as a boost to his GPA. He didn’t make fun of your confused pronunciations, either, always kindly correcting you before he slid you his number in case you needed his help. But… That was the extent of it. Sure, you knew Minho’s cats’ names, and you kind-of knew about Youngtaek’s other friends… That was it, though. You were still lost, trying to find your footing in this difficult time in life. Most of freshman year had slipped past you before you’d known it, and now you were just there. Still lost in who you were and what you really wanted in life. And now you knew that Vernon would cancel his plans with other people just to hang around you.

When did this all feel so complicated?

The sound of the tray hitting the table pulled you out of your thoughts, and Vernon slid into the other side of the booth. He started to dish out your respective meals, talking about the biology report that you’d honestly stopped caring about as he did so. Sitting next to the window meant you could see how pretty his eyes were when the sunlight hit them. You’d always thought Vernon had beautiful eyes, regardless of where the two of you were… But the way they looked when the sunlight hit them? That was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life. How did you manage to get a best friend who was not only handsome, but funny and sweet and—

“You good?”

Shit. You nodded. “Just thinking.”

He smiled a little, setting your drink in front of you before he put the tray aside. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just one lab report. We’ve got this.” 

Sometimes, you truly admired how confident he could be in your abilities… and the way he accidentally just gave you an out. “I guess I’m just thinking about the next lab,” you shrugged. “Dissection is…”

“Oh. Dude. We could totally ditch.”

You furrowed your brow as you looked up from where you were unwrapping your meal. “You sure? We only get one free pass in this class. Most people save it for the last lab.” 

“I mean… I don’t want to dissect shit. You don’t want to dissect shit. We’re only taking this course for the gen ed,” he shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe we could ditch and go see a movie or something.”

It reminded you of your senior year of high school together. The two of you ended up taking off in the middle of the day after Vernon found you upset, and you’d gone to an arcade instead. There was a polar bear plushie on your bed that you’d always kept from that day. And now he was willing to skip one of your biology labs for you. 

The two of you ended up braving the lab anyway. Even though neither of you were completely fine with dissecting, well, anything, the two of you managed to get through it pretty fine. Other people would have to deal with worse in the future, you were sure, but for two non-biology majors, just getting through it was fine. The two of you ended up going off to the movies afterward anyway as a tiny reward for not being cowards. In the back row of an empty theater, you rested your head on Vernon’s shoulder. A moment later, you felt his lean against yours.

At least you knew Vernon loved you in some way.

Sophomore year marked a slight change in everything. Life began to get in the way for you and Vernon. Whenever he was free, you often weren’t, and you always seemed to be free when he wasn’t. Sure, you could maybe stop by the record shop to talk to him for a few minutes whenever you wanted to see him, but it wasn’t the same as having a movie night at his and Seungkwan’s dorms (which they’d returned to again this year—although it was more communal rather than a suite). And you… You didn’t want Vernon coming to your dorms. 

The reason why? The same reason you were crying in the break room on your floor. The same fucking reason you were locked out of your dorm room for the third time in one week over the past few months. Your roommate was nice enough… when she was alone. Yet you’d heard her moaning when you came back up to get your textbooks, because you had a test coming up on Friday, and it was a major one. As nice as your roommate was, she never listened to you when you tried to set some kind of boundary like “can you give me a heads up before you start fucking your boyfriend in our dorm room?” considering she did this often. All you needed was a heads up so that you could get your shit and go somewhere else. It felt like you were never entirely alone in the dorm room for long: she or her boyfriend were always around. It wasn’t even as though she were studying in the room. They’d always fuck there, and your roommate never gave you any proper warning first despite the fact you’d always make it clear when something major was coming up and you needed to have some access to your study materials. 

Like you said: if she wanted to fuck her boyfriend, fine, but at least let you get your shit first. It wasn’t as if you had anywhere else to keep your books.

You tried to call Vernon for some kind of reassurance. Either he’d calm you down, or he’d bitch about your roommate’s rude behavior with you. He didn’t pick up, though, only texting back that he was busy at the moment. You buried your face in your hands, trying not to sob again. Even if you had your books, the library was always packed around this time. Where else could you study that was nice and quiet? Fuck, you knew your roommate, too: there was no way you’d be getting back in within the next few hours.

So you ended up texting Changbin, who’d grown closer with you over the break. He told you to just come on over to his apartment without any hesitation. You pulled yourself together, stopping in the bathrooms long enough to look yourself over and calm down before you left. Changbin’s apartment was just off campus, and you’d been enough times that you knew the way by heart. It was only a short bus ride and a walk, but it gave you plenty of time to calm down even further (even if you did end up crying again while waiting on the bus). By the time you came up, you’d seen where Changbin was making the couch up for himself. Youngtaek had been standing in the kitchen, making fried rice for himself when you came in. He’d greeted you warmly enough, yet noticed the fact that you only carried your school bag with you. What other clothing would you have? You’d all but collapsed onto the couch, and all it took was Changbin opening his arms to you for you to move into them.

Thank fuck for Changbin’s extensive workouts. Those big buff arms could crush you like a grape, but they meant Changbin was great for hugs. Involuntarily, you let out a groan into his shoulder, and felt the way they shook with a tiny chuckle.

“It’s okay,” he said, amusement lighting up his voice. “Just get it out.”

You squeezed him tight instead, face buried into his shoulder. Changbin might be one of the most huggable men you’d ever met, if you were honest. The other side of the couch dipped as Youngtaek sat down, bowl in his hands.

“Is it really that bad?”

You pulled away from Changbin’s arms to give Youngtaek a look that could kill. He didn’t seem to flinch, continuing to eat his food without much care. “I couldn’t care less if she has sex in our room,” you said. “I just care that she keeps having sex in our room in the middle of fucking week. She doesn’t even go to class some days! And I’ve straight up heard them fucking on the bed behind me when I’m trying to sleep. I called her out and she kept acting like I’m the stupid one for thinking that, and that I’m the pervert even though I woke up one night to hear her giggling about not waking me up. I told her I don’t care if she does it on the weekend or gives me a heads up so I can get my things and leave, but she never does! I always come back and the door’s locked and her boyfriend’s always moaning—”

Changbin just wordlessly pushed Gyu, his Munchlax plush, into your arms. You hugged him tight, and Changbin leaned forward to get a better look at your face. He slowly said your name, making you look back up. “Why don’t you move in with us?”

“Don’t you have another roommate?”

“He’s moving out in a few days,” Youngtaek said. “Something happened with his family. He said things are under control now, but he’s still going to transfer after this semester to somewhere closer to home. It’s not ideal circumstances, but for you… You’d be getting your own room.” He nodded toward the unlabeled door. “It’s small, like our rooms, but it’d be yours. You wouldn’t have to live on campus anymore, or share a room.” 

… Honestly, that didn’t sound bad at all. You hugged Gyu closer to your chest, thinking over it. “I’d have to talk to student housing, and return my key, and find someone who can help me move if I don’t just hire someone—”

“Wooyoung knows someone,” Changbins said. “I’ll ask him to talk to Yunho.”

Something about how quick both of them were to help you made your breath hitch, your heart swelling within your chest. All of a sudden, the frustration seemed to slip away, and you had begun to tear up. The stress had been building for weeks now of dealing with a roommate that never respected you—hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if she was just acting nice to your face. It made you miss your freshman roommate. At least she was nice to you and gave you a heads up when she was bringing friends over, since you always extended the same courtesy to her. The one time you tried to tell your current roommate that the room was yours too, she called you a prude for trying to stop her from having fun.

Hours later, Vernon called you while you were watching a movie with Youngtaek and Changbin. It wasn’t the studying you needed to be doing, but it was a nice alternative since you couldn’t. You’d stepped into Changbin’s room to answer, listening as Vernon mentioned that Seungkwan had seen you crying earlier at the bus stop. Your grip tightened a little around your phone. Shit, so Vernon knew that something was wrong, and you couldn’t dodge the subject easily.

“Roommate kicked me out again—”

“Again?!” He groaned. “Dude—You really need to talk to her. Get the RA involved.” 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I’ve already made plans.”

A pause on his end. “You wanna come over? I just got back from work, but I can maybe find a movie for us to watch—”

“It’s okay.” You leaned against the wall. “I’m at Changbin’s. He’s letting me take his room for the night.” For a moment, you hesitated. “... I think I’m going to move out of the dorms as soon as I can.”

“Wait, for real?”

Despite him being unable to see you, you nodded. “I already emailed student housing about it, so they’ll have to get back to me. I think I’m gonna at least pack a bag and bring some of my stuff over here in case I need an out. Binnie’s already texted one of his friends about helping me move out, since I think he knows someone with a big enough car for all of my stuff…” You let out a sigh. “I don’t think I’ll get my money back for this semester, but they should give me something for next semester since I won’t be living there.”

Vernon was quiet for a while. “You want some help?”

“Maybe,” you said. “I dunno how big the guy’s car is. I’ll keep you updated, alright?”

“You better.” He paused. “Is that all?”

You raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“That’s—I just wanted to know if anything else was wrong. That’s all.” 

“I’m fine, Vernon,” you said. “Thanks for calling. I’ll see you later, alright?”

It was an empty promise, you were sure. But you let him answer back with that casual, “Yeah, for sure,” before ending the call, as though it were something to hold each other to.

The next day, you confronted your roommate. No more sex until you had moved out. If she wanted to fuck her boyfriend while you were getting everything in order, then she could take it to his place. She’d been quiet for the longest time when you broke the news to her, and then apologized to you. It was… weird to see, to be honest. She said something about trying to change if it meant you wouldn’t move out, and that had raised one of the reddest flags you’d ever seen. At first, you couldn’t wrap your head around why she’d drop everything so quickly. The last time, she’d been quick to insult you for asking to have access to your own room, and this time…

Oh. She was hoping you’d break and change your mind. Well, fuck that. You’d pulled out one of your boxes and bought a roll of tape, and started getting your shit in order. Moving would suck, sure, but at least you wouldn’t be stuck in this dorm anymore. A new roommate might tell her outright to fuck off and learn how to share a room with another person instead of treating it like its her room alone. Maybe if you were a little bolder, you would have done it yourself. She was allowed to have sex if she wanted it: but it wasn’t her room alone, and it never had been. 

Within the next week, you were introduced to Wooyoung, who introduced you to Yunho in turn. Changbin hadn’t given either of them the full story past “my friend needs help moving out of her dorm because her roommate doesn’t respect her, can you help?” but that was fine with you. Changbin had been right there with you that day, too, to provide extra muscle in carrying your things. His other roommate had moved out over the weekend, which meant the room was ready for you. Although you tried to say that you didn’t need so many guys helping you move out, Changbin insisted further. That was what a good roommate did, after all: they were considerate.

(And, yes, he did say that while your roommate was curled up on her bed, watching your boxes slowly shrink in number.)

Youngtaek had been the one to suggest drafting up a roommate contract for the three of you once you got settled in. With your dorm room key turned in, and you receiving the key that Changbin and Youngtaek’s former roommate had, things felt a little more finalized. The two had a little housewarming celebration for you the night you moved in, and left you to start unpacking after you’d finished dinner with them. 

This was nice. Things were nice again.

You ended up inviting Vernon over after giving your new housemates the proper heads up, and that, too, was nice. Vernon had barely taken a look at you before he realized just how much happier you seemed to be. Between work and classes and… well, life itself, you guessed, things had finally started to feel a little more normal. Just as soon as he arrived, Seokmin was texting him about some other party that was happening tonight. You just hugged him tight and thanked him for stopping by. It was good to see his face, even for a few minutes.

It took several weeks of ditching you and canceling plans for Vernon to tell you what was going on.

“Well… There’s this girl…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—How were you supposed to respond to that? You reached for your drink, taking a quick sip to hopefully buy you a little more time to think as he kept explaining. There was a really nice girl in one of his film classes, Ji-woo, and they’d been talking a lot lately. Whenever he couldn’t drag you along to a movie he needed to see for class, she invited him into her own little group… and then alone, after the first few times. From the look on his face alone, you were sure that he was crushing. There was this subtle smile that Vernon always had when he talked about people. The lovestruck look in his eyes, so fond of whoever he was talking about. 

“So you’re crushing pretty hard, huh?” was what you settled on after a while, cutting him off mid-conversation. Maybe it was selfish, but hearing him talk so highly about another person made your stomach churn.

He stared at you for a moment, and then kind of shifted into that cheesy, I-might-be-in-love smile, gaze averting from you. “Maybe. I dunno. I’m still getting to know her, and I don’t wanna do anything until I know I like her… I just…”

“Are you asking for my blessing, you dork?”

He snorted, picking up his drink. “I mean—What would you do?” 

Die, maybe, the dramatic part of your brain yelled. Don’t date her. I love you. Please let me prove it. 

“You already know the answer to that,” you said. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’d support you.” 

Vernon stopped chewing at the end of his straw, staring at you for what felt like far too long. “... Right,” he said. “Yeah, of course—What was I thinking?”

(That he’d know. That he’d take one look at you and finally know if you loved him back. Instead you’re looking at him like you always do.)

“Well… Hey. Good luck,” you nudged him with your foot. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, you know. If you want, I can give you a discount at the flower shop.” You rested your head in your hand, “I’ll just use my employee discount. Fuck the rules.” 

He laughed a little at that. “God, I love you.” 

And you loved him, too. He was your best friend, even if the word stopped fitting so well.

Barely a few weeks later, after the start of junior year, Vernon asked Ji-woo out. All you could say after a minute or two of bone-crushing silence was the weakest congratulations you’d ever given him.

(Youngtaek had been the one who held you as you refused to cry that night. He just wordlessly put his arms around you, squeezing you tight while you fought everything inside of you.)

And now, a little over a month, you were feeling the absence of Vernon in your life. It felt naive to think that it was fine at first, and that heartbreak you felt would be the end of feeling like shit. The ugly parts of grief and pain and disappointment in yourself were supposed to be over, right? Except now, you kept getting ditched for dates with Ji-woo. You knew that Vernon would focus on his relationship with her, and you told him that’d be fine. He liked her (at least, he said he thought he did—he was still figuring it out), at least enough to ask her out officially. No flowers, no fancy anything, he just asked her to be his girlfriend after that last date before he immediately told you the next day. You were his best friend, your relationship was set in stone: he was fully allowed to focus on the one that wasn’t.

Except, as you said, for the fact he kept fucking ditching you and it was starting to really hurt. At first, it had been movie nights at the theater where he promised to buy you popcorn to make up for the times before (Ji-woo had wanted to go to the arcade, and Vernon jumped at the opportunity). You had been left standing outside for almost half an hour before he finally remembered you existed. He’d called you that day, apologizing over and over before you asked if it was Ji-woo. When he said it was, you played the best friend as perfectly as you hoped you could and said you understood. Lots of people put their love life over their friendships in the beginning. That was what endless internet research told you at least. There were plenty of threads that said it would work itself out in time, that it was okay for you to take the back burner and just remind your friend you were still there before you’d boiled away to nothing. A healthy relationship involved both time with friends and time with your partner, not just one or the other. 

Yet it kept happening. Movie nights with Vernon would get dropped within seconds because Ji-woo wanted to go out. You were left waiting in a coffee shop more than once with Vernon’s iced coffee melting across from you. The museum trip he’d promised you because it was this anime-themed exhibit (for an anime you two watched together in middle school) fell through and you ditched the idea of going on your own because it was less special that way. He only ever texted you at the last minute or hours later with another apology. It felt like all he ever did was apologize to you nowadays, and it was reaching a frustrating point. You swore you saw his friends more than you ever saw him. The last time you saw Vernon, he was with his girlfriend on campus, walking to class. You saw the way he looked at her (he used to look at you like that, you thought to yourself, whenever he actually looked at you), and you felt a pit of jealousy underneath this draining sense of grief. Seungkwan was still nice to you, though, and Chan would sometimes say hi. Seokmin even greeted you warmly whenever he saw you, happy to catch up since you rarely saw him (and it almost felt like he was your friend despite that). But Vernon…

You simply couldn’t care less. You had studies you needed to focus on instead. Sometimes you would leave Seungkwan’s contact open on your phone, always wanting to ask if Vernon had blown him (or anyone else) off for Ji-woo. There was a way to check. One simple text to send. But you didn’t: you didn’t want to know the answer. Not yet.

Vernon asked you if you wanted to go on a double date with him and Ji-woo. When you asked who you would be seeing, he simply said it’d be Seungkwan. So you stupidly said yes (probably giving Vernon the wrong idea), and the next day you were sitting next to Seungkwan in a diner booth and exchanging looks as he talked endlessly to his girlfriend rather than anyone else at the table. Is this what double dates were supposed to be? One couple talking the entire time? You didn’t think so. You and Seungkwan just looked at each other way too many times in disbelief. This fucking sucked.

Ji-woo excused herself to go to the bathroom, and you debated following her just to avoid whatever Vernon was about to ask next. It was the first time you were meeting her, after all. Ji-woo was nice. Bubbly, and sweet, and pretty, and you… really couldn’t hate her, if you were honest. When Vernon asked you if you wanted to come on this double date, you were expecting to find something to hate about her. Something you could justify being upset with him picking her over and over instead of spending even ten minutes with you. You’d never been like this when you had a boyfriend. Sure, your ex-boyfriend was shitty, but you still made time for both him and your friends. But between how pretty and sweet she was and the stupid loving look in Vernon’s eyes, all you felt was more guilt for being so mad at him. 

“So… What do you guys think?” He asked quietly. “She’s great, right?”

Seungkwan had nodded along. “... I think she’s nice.” 

… Was that reluctance? Before you could answer, your phone started ringing. You tapped Seungkwan’s arm, and he let you out of the booth so you could step outside to answer Changbin.

“Are you out? Minho said he saw you on a double date or something.” 

Immediately, you started looking around for Minho. When the fuck did he see you? “Yeah,” you said after a moment, still trying to see if Minho was within view. You’d (jokingly) go kick his ass for saying something to Changbin. “Vernon wanted us to meet Ji-woo, I guess.”

The pause Changbin took before speaking again told you everything you needed to know. You probably shouldn’t have said that. “Are you okay?”

Changbin and Youngtaek, as your housemates, were the unfortunate witnesses to your disappointed returns to the apartment. Every time Vernon blew you off for his girlfriend, one (or both) of them would see you come home and already know what happened. It’d been Changbin, though, who dragged you out of the apartment after one of those instances. Fuck Vernon, he had said, we’re going out and getting ramen tonight. It was the best fucking ramen you’d had in weeks, but you were starting to think that it was moreso the company than the noodles themselves. 

With a sigh, you sat down on the bench outside. “I’m fine, Binnie.”

“I can lie about breaking the coffee maker again,” he said immediately. 

“You don’t have to—Wait. Again?” 

“Just say the word and I’ll do it,” he quickly said. “Love you!”

With a sigh, you shoved your phone back into your pocket after he hung up on you. You’d confront him and Youngtaek about the coffee maker another time. The bell of the diner door rang behind you, and you almost stood up to use it as your own timer to go back inside and tell your friends that everything was fine—Changbin just wanted to know if you were gonna be home to eat dinner with him and Youngtaek. Except when you turned, Seungkwan was standing there. 

“I’m going to sing karaoke instead. Do you want to come with me?” 

You looked back toward the window. “What about Vernon—”

“He went to the bathroom after Ji-woo came back. I told her you seemed upset so I was going to walk you home.” Seungkwan crossed his arms. “Are you coming with me or not? I’m still mad that Vernon ditched our coffee date last week.”

You furrowed your brow. “He—”

“It was only the one time, but I’m still holding a grudge,” he said, sighing. “He should have texted. I wasted money on him since he said he’d be there.”

Well. That answered one of your questions. You said yes anyway, and Seungkwan immediately smiled, taking your hand and happily guiding you away. By the end of the night, your throat was raw and aching from screaming lyrics alongside Seungkwan, but it was comforting to know you weren’t alone. When he wasn’t entertaining you by yelling alongside you, his voice was genuinely beautiful to listen to. The two of you ended up getting street food together to replace the meal you didn’t have with Vernon and Ji-woo, and Seungkwan seemed a little happy to finally bitch about a couple things. While Vernon only blew him off the one time, it was enough to piss Seungkwan off because no one treated him like that. He’d chewed him out when he came back, saying that real friends called instead of leaving their friend to throw away a melted iced coffee. He later walked you to your bus stop, telling you goodnight as he squeezed your hands. The two of you should talk more (for non-bitching reasons, too). You watched him continue on toward the apartment he now shared with Vernon and Chan, and felt a little better about all of this.

At least you weren’t entirely alone.

A few months later, your grandpa got sick. Despite the insistence that he would be fine, you were terrified. Everything around you seemed to spiral into disaster. Between late assignments and a failed test, it felt like you were going to just… break. Your family told you to finish out your semester and come see him during break, that this wasn’t serious and he’d lived through worse. All you could think about was the fact that the one person you could talk to about this just… wasn’t there for you. He was on a date with Ji-woo. You tried calling him, and he denied it on the second ring. He texted you back to ask if it was important, since he was on that date.

You told him it wasn’t and to have fun on his date. Changbin was busy, and so was Youngtaek, which meant you would turn to the only other person you often hung out with nowadays. Minho answered your text within seconds when you asked if you could come over, and then followed up that ‘yes’ with asking whether it was serious.

[ 🦀 ] it is. family stuff.

[ 🦀 ] is that okay?

[ 🐈 ] just wanted to be ready

[ 🐈 ] see you soon

You shoved your things into your hoodie pocket and made your way to Minho’s apartment. His roommate was out when you got there, and Minho made a comment about how Chris wouldn’t be back until later that night anyway—so it was just the two of you for a while. By the time you’d sat down with him, you were already breaking down crying. He listened as you cried, pushing a box of tissues your way (Minho came prepared for this) as soon as you needed it. 

“You should trust your family on this,” he told you. “If they thought you needed to come home, they would be honest with you. If things suddenly changed and it looked like you might lose him, then they would tell you. Right?”

“Right, but…” Your grandpa wasn’t the only person you felt like you were losing now.

When was the last time you and Vernon hung out, not including the double date you and Seungkwan ditched? Before the semester started? Even then, he’d been ditching you to hang out with Ji-woo. Even now, you wished you could hate her. Or him. He was the one who was ditching you, not Ji-woo. Or maybe even both of them, when you thought about it now. Seungkwan had been the one who lied to her face and told her that you were upset about something, and you never heard a word from Vernon that night. What could Ji-woo have told him…? Fuck being mad at any of them at this point: that was energy you didn’t want to expend. 

If this was how it ended, then so fucking be it. 

Except it wasn’t. That wasn’t how it would end, because Vernon broke up with Ji-woo five months later, long after you went home and saw your grandpa in better health. He posted something on his private Twitter about it, so you decided to text him.

[🚀] hey, i just saw your priv

[🚀] i’m so sorry things didn’t work out for you two. are you alright?

[vernon 👽] yeah just

[vernon 👽] idk it’s a lot to process

[vernon 👽] i don’t think i’ve figured it all out yet

[🚀] you wanna talk about it? i’m here if you need me.

[vernon 👽] idk she just kept blowing me off for stuff

[vernon 👽] i mean. she can have friends, that’s not a problem at all. i’m never gonna stop her from that.

[vernon 👽] but like… she kept canceling out dates at the last second, or she’d forget about our plans because one of her friends wanted to go do something and they got mad at her for spending all her time w me, so she figured she should spend more time w them

[vernon 👽] just started to feel like i wasn’t important to her, y’know? 

[vernon 👽] like. not important enough to say ‘hey babe, suhyun wants to go to the amusement park and i’ve kind of neglected her, won’t make dinner today’ 

Oh. All at once, you were seething. As much as you wanted to feel bad for him, your anger kept building and building toward this ugly peak. Not now, you told yourself. You could be mad at him, but he was going through a tough time. 

(Where was he during YOUR tough times, you mentally shot back.)

[🚀] oh dude… i’m sorry

[🚀] that really sucks. i’m so sorry.

[🚀] i hope you feel better soon.

You turned your phone onto silent before slamming it down onto your bed, too choked up with emotions to say anything else. You had managed to pull it together long enough to say something that was hopefully nice, and now everything was hitting you hard and suffocating you. You wanted to throw something—anything—or scream in frustration. This sucked. You knew it sucked. But, fuck, you just wanted to go and scream at him “you see how fucking bad that feels?! To have someone you care about not fucking care anymore?!” and you didn’t. You couldn’t. It made you realize that neither of you have even addressed the fact you haven’t spoken in several months now.

You stepped out of your room, leaving your phone behind to get a glass of water. Maybe if you kept pushing your feelings down, you could redirect your anger into something better. If push came to shove, then you’d just go out and walk until you felt better. Youngtaek had been standing in the kitchen, preparing snacks.

“Oh, you’re home?” He didn’t look up past the quick glance he’d given you before he went back to arranging snacks. “Yeonjun and Wooyoung are coming over for game night. You don’t have to join us, but Changbin and I know you’re kind of friends with them, so you’re welcome to join us if you—”

The moment you sniffled, he looked up and realized something was wrong. All of a sudden, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Something about being around other people you trusted made it harder for you to keep your emotions fully under wraps. Vernon once told you that you wore your emotions on your sleeve, and maybe that was still true. Youngtaek pulled you into his arms when you broke, letting you sob into his shoulder as he held you.

“Is it Vernon again?”

Youngtaek knew. Everyone knew, didn’t they? But Youngtaek and Changbin knew the most, next to Minho.

“You can’t keep avoiding this,” he said gently, stroking your hair. “It’s not fair to you.”

“He broke up with her,” you mumbled, “because she kept canceling plans a-and ditching him and…”

Youngtaek drew back, staring at you. “He what.” 

“And–And he didn’t feel like he was important to her at all anymore, a-and she would keep doing it last second or forgetting—”

You’d rarely seen Youngtaek look genuinely angry. He got frustrated, sure, because he was human. But this pissed? You weren’t sure you could even count how many times he was this outwardly angry. He masked it well before you now, though, taking a deep breath before he cut you off.

“One of my friends wants to go on a camping trip in a few weeks,” he told you. His hands rested on your shoulders, fingers slightly digging in. “He told me that some of his friends canceled for other plans, and that I could invite a few people if they wanted to come. You’re coming with me.”

You opened your mouth to speak.

“I mean it,” he said. “If you really don’t want to go, I won’t force you, but I think you need it. I’ll take your phone if you want, and it’ll just be us and a couple friends. We’ll cook together, and hike, and—and we’ll just have fun enjoying nature.”

You shut your mouth, slowly nodding. Maybe he was right and you needed to get away from all of this. It wasn’t going to be too much—camping here wasn’t all that out there as it was in other places—but you’d met some of Youngtaek’s friends before. Maybe you could talk them into a game of mafia. They’re all so genuinely horrible at it (they recorded it once for fun and Youngtaek sent you the YouTube video), it’d probably be fun to watch. 

Seungkwan was the one who reached out to you while you were helping Youngtaek make snacks. You stepped into your room to answer your phone, and learned that it was him and Chan who were cheering Vernon up. 

“I asked if he wanted to invite you over,” Seungkwan said quietly. “He said he didn’t want to burden you.”

You weren’t sure what to say. “Oh.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” Seungkwan went quiet for a moment. “You two used to be so close, and now…”

At least someone else saw it.

“I know you’re hurting, too,” he said. “Vernon said you texted him. I almost told him off because the reason he broke up with her was the same thing he was doing toward you. DId he ever come back?”

He didn’t. Your silence said that for you.

“Ah, really…” Seungkwan sounded annoyed, too. Less pissed than Youngtaek, but Seungkwan hadn’t seen how many times you’d felt rejected by your own ‘best friend.’ “I should tell him off after he feels better—”

“Don’t.” You shut your eyes. “It’s fine, Seungkwan. Just go be there for him.” 

“I will,” he said. “But you don’t have to lie to me. It’s not fine. I would have dropped a friend over this. If you need me, just text me, okay?”

It’s funny. You never really considered Seungkwan a close friend of yours. He was always someone you saw as a person you were on good terms with. The two of you didn’t hang out or do anything more than occasionally talk. There were no coffee dates, no study dates. Not like what you did with Minho and Changbin and Youngtaek—and, sometimes, Yeonjun. You paused, staring down at your friend for a moment as you returned to Youngtaek (and the newly arrived Yeonjun and Wooyoung).

“Hey… Can I invite a friend?” You looked up from your phone to the group. “It’s Minho.” 

They all knew Minho. They told you to go ahead if he wasn’t busy. The more the merrier. Minho texted back a few minutes later, saying he’d stop by the store on his way over, so to let him know if you guys wanted any snacks. People dished out their requests, and you’d merely asked for a melona bar. A few minutes later, you realized what you were craving, and texted him asking if he would get you banana snacks instead. He said he’d already let the store, and you’d made peace with it. You’d get the snacks some other time. 

Yet when he showed up, he passed you a small bag with your ice cream and a bag of banana-flavored snacks before he settled in beside you, hiding a smile.

Vernon was checking his phone again, this gnawing feeling within him to do so. He followed… well, a lot of people on social media. Friends. Friends of friends. He wasn’t exactly sure why, if he was honest. He kind-of liked seeing what other people were up to, since sometimes it’d give him ideas for his own stuff with friends. And then he saw you, and that gnawing feeling suddenly went away.

He’d met Youngtaek before enough to recognize him immediately. You were sandwiched between him and Bae Seungmin (another guy in your year—Vernon had a few classes with him before) in the background of a photo shared by someone else. Did he even know a Jangjun? He wasn’t sure. He’d have to see if he recognized him later. Instead, he just zoomed in on the three of you among hte group.

(Turns out, though, he did recognize Jangjun. He’d met him at a couple parties. He was the loud dude who did a spot-on cicada impression at one of them… and Vernon was actually pretty damn sure that Jangjun was sober that time.)

You looked… happy. Your eyes were sparkling in every picture, so completely filled with joy at being with the people you were with. Some other guy was hugging you tight in another picture. You were laughing in another one, holding a sparkler alongside the people around you. When did you get so close with other people? It felt like just yesterday you were getting lunch with him before you worked on a biology lab report. A few nights later, you had confessed that you felt lonely outside of him and a few other people. But he could see the can of cheap beer in your hand, and he suddenly understood a little better: you were always a little touchier, a little more carefree whenever you drank. He clicked the tag on the photo with the guy hugging you tight, smiling like he was yours: Sungyoon. He didn’t know Sungyoon. Were you two…? Had you…? 

He clicked on your page to find out. There wasn’t much on there (you weren’t active on social media, to be fair) but there was more than the last time he’d checked. The pictures of him were further down your page now. You had pictures of you and Youngtaek, taken in mirrors at a store. Of you and Changbin and a few more of his friends, throwing up peace signs while in a park, street food in hand. Of Minho, crouching inside of a cat cafe, feeding a cat a treat, saying you’d leave him to be with “his kind” since there were other pictures where he was surrounded by cats. Then another picture of you and Seungkwan, dated days after that diner date he had with Ji-woo. Seungkwan had an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as the two of you beamed at the camera.

When was the last time he saw you smile like that?

You didn’t go home as much as you wanted to. Between school and work and life, it became a little harder to make that trip to see your family often. You’d taken a week long vacation, partially to go camping, and the rest was dedicated to your family. It was nice to eat your dad’s cooking again, and to sleep in your childhood room again. You walked the neighborhood a bit, too, hands tucked into your pockets as you enjoyed being somewhere you wouldn't exactly call home anymore. But that was part of growing up. Home became different places throughout life. This was just one of them, even if you couldn’t actively call it yours anymore. It was nice, except for the part where your mom was giving you shit for being single and lonely and whatever.

“I always thought you and Vernon would have gotten together,” she said while making you breakfast. Unbeknownst to her, that was the one thing that could have made you cry.

You later went out for another walk around the neighborhood. Tomorrow morning, you’d go back to your apartment and get ready for work later that day. The world seemed to be against you, though, because this walk was what made you realize that you weren’t the only one who’d come home to visit family. Vernon was inside, hugging his sister visibly from the window. He must have just come in as a surprise. His house was only a few down from yours. You’d move on in a moment. Instead, you just watched a moment longer, wondering if maybe you should walk up and ring the doorbell. Say hi to the second family you had. You sighed after a moment, and made a move on to get home.

Inside, Sofia was whining at him for hugging her so tight… and because it’d been years since she’d seen you. Vernon could feel his own ache of heartbreak. Sofia hadn’t liked Ji-woo when he brought her around.

She pushed his arms off of her, flopping down onto the couch, “You should just tell her.” 

Maybe one day he would, if he could stop being a coward.

Senior year came and went faster than you knew.

You didn’t talk to Vernon anymore. He didn’t text you. Finally, you think that this was it. One friendship undone and slowly dying for far too fucking long. It almost made you want to hold a funeral, if you were honest. The most you’d heard from him was a birthday text and the invitation to do something that you responded to with an apology, because you’d already made plans with other people. Minho had stayed by your side throughout your birthday, happy to spend the day with you at an amusement park. Youngtaek and Changbin had come with you, too, bringing along Yeonjun and Wooyoung and a few others. You never really liked being the center of attention, but you didn’t mind so much during this last birthday. One of Minho’s friends, Felix, had danced with you happily, fingers intertwined. You’d joked to Minho that he should bring Felix around more often: he seemed like a sweet guy.

At some point, though, you sat down to address your feelings for real. You had been friends with Vernon for years, and all of it seemed to disappear all too quickly. You had cried over it plenty of times, but you were hit with this sense of relief at long last. Not because it was over, because that would always leave this subtle ache in your chest. Relief because you had finally learned how to let go and stop fighting a losing battle. You could finally rest now, and focus on the people that loved you out loud in your life. People like Youngtaek, who laughed beside you when you had movie nights in the apartment. Sometimes it ended with popcorn in your hair, but you’d never hold it against him for too long. Changbin, who was the best gym buddy you could ever ask for. Despite how intense his workouts could be, he was always mindful of you adhering to your own limits. Minho, who gave you quiet understanding whenever you needed it most. Your outings to cat cafes always made you smile, though, especially when he used it as a springboard to talk about how he’d one day move Soonie, Doongie, and Dori into his apartment. These were the people who had found you along the way, and walked alongside you when you needed them. Even Seungkwan, who wasn’t your close friend, had reached out to you every so often to check on you because he cared. 

All good things came to an end. That was what you would tell yourself to feel better. Your friendships would come to an end one day, whether that be with an explosion or a quiet fizzle was something only time would tell. All you needed was to wait for the tide to come in and wash away the reminders of Vernon left along the sand.

Then you could run away.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @gyulbabie

[thebluester2020]

I wonder how sdv bachelor's would react to you getting mad at them for forgetting your (relationship) anniversary?

Getting Upset At SDV + RSV Bachelors For Forgetting Your Anniversary (For the Umpteenth Time And You Decided To Leave Them For It)

Warning(s): Angst (Especially on Shane's part lol, I'm a hater), No happy endings, Reader goes in on Shane and Alex in their individual parts,

Side note(s): Ik you were probably expecting something decently light anon but I just remembered that I haven't ratted on Shane in a minute so I thought some good ol' fashioned angst was in store.

Also, I picked who I wrote angst for because I teared up thinking of writing angst for my favorite emo or writer. Still, though, I hope you like what I've written anon (and sorry it took so frickin' long 😔)

Shane | "Another Bottle"

You were so excited for tonight, you could hardly stand in place as you waited for Shane to get home!

Tonight would be your third year with Shane. A year that (in your mind) would symbolize the trials and tribulations the both of you had gone, as well as shared with one another. And for the last week or so, Shane had been talking almost non-stop about the plans he had for the both of you at the end of the week! He hinted at eating some fancy dinner cooked up by Gus at the Stardrop Saloon, and although he didn't mention it verbally, Shane had been spending a lot of time with Elliot lately.

The two had almost nothing in common so, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of the extra things your husband was preparing for you.

Shane had also mentioned taking a walk on the beach at the end, and once the night had concluded? A nice wine on the porch whilst listening to a playlist of you and his' favorite songs.

All of it was straight from a dream, a fairytale even that...admittedly, you thought would never happen. Especially since...he had forgotten your first anniversary, the second one too—but, you were nothing if not forgiving.

You had to be.

Your husband dealt with a lot. He had mental health issues as well as a drinking problem that he was still fighting to curb to this very moment! When you married him—nay, when you first started dating him. You knew that you would have to be patient and constantly show him that you were with him through thick and thin, come Hell or high water. You'd stand by Shane's side and walk with him through any troubles he may have faced or had roaming around in his head.

Therefore, that's why, as soon as the clock in your shared bedroom ticked to five o'clock. You practically burst out of your bedroom and out to the front porch to wait for Shane like an eager dog waiting for its owner to return home after a long day! In any minute, he'd walk through the small gates that led onto the farm's property...maybe with a bouquet of flowers? A tired expression at first perhaps? One that would immediately melt away at the sight of you like it always did...you couldn't wait to see for yourself.

Six O'Clock

You had decided to sit down on the steps of the porch, constantly standing in a pair of heels was bound to hurt your feet sometime or another as you continued to wait for Shane to go through those gates. He must've been held up at work, maybe spending a little extra time getting your date ready! Something.

Anything other than the thought your mind was threatening to settle on.

No, anything but that.

He was late but you were going to have patience, after all, all the best things in life were worth waiting for, right? You were willing to bet that he was going to appear at any moment now.

Eight O'Clock

You had lost the bet with yourself, that much was obvious as you quietly took off the outfit you had put together for tonight and debated whether you should simply take a shower and go to bed or if you should comfort yourself over a nice glass of wine. On one hand, you wanted the former, anything that would help you forget this night but...this time? You just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

This would be the third time that Shane had forgotten your anniversary. Last year, you had let him slide with his excuse that he was caught up at work, even though he worked at a grocery store and the place had a set time for when it closed! The second year, that time around, Shane had claimed that Jas suddenly wanted to spend time with him! You wouldn't have minded Jas tagging along for your anniversary date, she would have made it more lively, so that year as well, you let it slide.

This time though...as tears started to well up in your eyes and your chest tightened. You didn't know if you had it in you to let another anniversary slide.

And that's when you heard the front door open and close.

Even from the bedroom, the scent of alcohol was strong and all too familiar. The lazy movement of Shane's footsteps...the way he groaned and grumbled drunkenly in search of you.

He had forgotten your anniversary...all so he could get drunk?

You saw red. "Where were you?" You immediately questioned your husband when you rounded a corner and into the living room.

There he was, lying down on the couch with the stench of alcohol radiating off of him. You clenched your fists so hard at the sight, that you almost worried they'd bleed. "Out." Shane finally answered.

You could feel a vein threaten to poke out as he slurred his words.

"Out?" You said in exasperation.

"Yes, out."

"I thought you were trying to quit drinking," You stormed up closer to him. Shane barely even flinched, you were hoping he'd give you something, anything that said he had remembered your anniversary but was just too drunk and stupid to remember it. "Why—"

"I needed a break from work!" He grumbled. "Get off my back."

"But—" You took a breath. "Shane." You continued. "Our anniversary...you—you promised." When that word made its way out of your mouth, Shane could barely give you the decency to look embarrassed. To look ashamed that he would miss his only spouse's birthday. The one person who had stuck with him through everything, listened to him when he was at his lowest, had made sure he was at Dr. Harvey's in a heartbeat the second you noticed he was too drunk to even stand. You had even gone out of your way so many fucking times to make sure that you had did some things for him, anything that made his recovery easier and swifter.

And what could he do to thank you?

Easy, begin to fall asleep on the couch whilst he still smelled of alcohol. Even as tears started to burn your eyes, he still couldn't wake up for you.

So, you decided that was that.

You wouldn't go through this again for a fourth, fifth, or even sixth time in a row!

You were done.

"...I guess you were right before Shane," You said to his passed-out form.

"You are nothing but a drunk. And that's all you'll ever be." You continued with venom dripping from each word before you stormed off to your bedroom. Immediately, you tore open the closet before you practically ripped and tore his clothes from the hangers, snatching pants and everything else he owned from the drawers and other places he kept his things before you carried them all to the living room before dropping it at his feet.

Still, he barely moved an inch aside from snoring obnoxiously.

You wanted him gone first thing in the morning and you wouldn't hear another half-assed apology or even an excuse that he was "still healing" or "just had a momentary relapse". It was a fine fucking time to have a relapse on the day you were looking forward to for an entire week! And you absolutely hated him for it.

But...soon you'd have your peace back, free of any disappointments too.

Once he was up and gone tomorrow.

Alex | "High Ambitions"

Alex's gridball career had been going extremely well as of late.

You always knew that his efforts, the constant hard work he'd put into the sport, would pay off one day. You always told him that! You just wished that...it wasn't at the expense of you sometimes, compared to how he was when the two of you first started dating, Alex was gone almost all the time. From sun up to sun down, he'd either be training or taking a bus down to Zuzu city at the crack of dawn in order to train further with his coach!

You didn't have enough fingers to count how many times you woke up by yourself. The spot where Alex should have been cold and empty, but Alex had promised you that he wasn't letting his ambitions and his budding career get in the way of you two! He'd always come back and hug you, stating that you were the reason why he was playing in the first place and trying to make it big.

All so that he could fund and take care of the both of you, deliver you a lavish lifestyle that would allow you to have more time to do the things that you and he liked to do rather than most of your day being spent with farm work and running around! And while that was all fine...your current lifestyle, was something you enjoyed.

And you enjoyed it even more when you did it with Alex.

Yet you had bit your tongue and nodded your head, you were happy for him and wanted him to succeed! So long as he didn't forget about you, you were happy and content. Besides, you'd have all the time in the world to make up for lost time with him tonight! It was your anniversary and the second he got back from practice, you wouldn't hold back from being a little greedy with him.

At least...that was the plan.

Until two hours went by.

He was supposed to be home at 8 o'clock.

Now? It was just barely reaching 11:00pm. And as the minutes continued to tick by, your anger at your husband only grew. He promised you that he would be home on time, that he wouldn't let practice take over you being his number-one priority. Clearly, that was one huge lie. However, as you heard the rapid jingling of keys at the door all of a sudden...you couldn't even find it within yourself to make up an excuse for him like you had many times prior.

No, it was clear where his priorities were as of lately.

And you weren't a part of them in the slightest.

"Y/N!" Alex called out as soon as he entered the house, his eyes quickly finding you sitting on the couch. Back straight and eyes forward, you hadn't even reacted to the sound of your name aside from a brief glance over your shoulder.

Oh, he knew he was in trouble.

"Sorry," Alex said bashfully, flashing you a boyish smile that would always do just the trick of melting your heart a little in the past. "I got caught up with practice, I scored three touchdowns today!"

"Do you know what day it is today?"

His eyes widened a little, his mouth opening to ask you to clarify as he desperately racked his brain. Only then, did horror wash over his features the second he remembered. "Y/N...I'm so sorry-"

You suddenly stood up. "Don't bother," You said sharply with a sigh. "It's the third time you've missed our anniversary!" You laughed emptily.

"All for fucking gridball practice. The same thing you told me wouldn't get in between us."

He rolled his eyes. "You know this is the one thing I've been working towards my entire life." Your husband huffed. "Why can't you be happy for me? I'm doing this for the both of us!"

"The both of us?" You scoffed. "You're doing this for you. I told you the second you started practicing to not let sports come between us, to at least take the time to remember me!" You shouted as you quickly got in his space, your chest heaving as your hands found their way to your hips.

"And what do you do? The exact opposite."

"Well, what about you?"

Oh, he was not placing the blame on you.

"You're always working on the farm, that or rushing off to the mines for the third time in a night!"

"How the- that's not the same! And besides, you're barely here to begin with! I'd rather be in the mines with the ghosts to keep me company than lay in an empty bed for the fourth night in a row!"

Your husband only blew you off with a scoff at your words, turning on his heels to walk away from the conversation. And that single act, it only made the pain worse. So much worse that...you couldn't even believe that you had married him in the first place. In the beginning, you were absolutely smitten with Alex, admiring his determination for gridball as well as his drive to be the best at it! Even now...you still want to support him at it, see him become the very best but...not at the detriment of you.

Not at the detriment of your marriage.

If he couldn't be bothered to remember the simplest things about you such as an anniversary.

Then it was best if you left the picture completely.

You took a deep shaky breath. "...Pack your bags tomorrow Alex." You said, your breath barely above a whisper but still loud enough to where Alex stopped in his tracks completely.

"What?"

"Pack them," You repeated. "You want to focus on gridball? Fine, but it won't be with me playing second fiddle to it." Then, you turned around to walk to the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

[myjlla]

Lighter

Pairing ✮⋆˙ Go Kyungjun x Reader

Summary ✮⋆˙ You don't know when universe will bring you your special light. Sometimes the light can be a person.

"✮⋆First meeting with Kyungjun"

He was running to the closest canopy that could save him from pouring rain, even though he was already all drenched he still wanted to get some cover.

The new school year was about to start in two weeks,

sweet fourteen days when kids do not have to worry about waking up in the morning, studying till the late hours of the night, attending additional classes, practicing their hobbies, or fighting with themselves, their problems, and their mental health.

For Kyungjun it was fourteen days of fighting with his mom, fourteen days of yelling at his stepdad, and fourteen days of being on his own, with his feelings.

He wanted to start this upcoming school year, finally meet with Seungbin and Jinha, and finally get his all anger out on Dabeom or this freaking weird kid with a stupid camera, he wanted to sleep through half of his lessons and enjoy the life of the school scariest bully.

It was the only thing he was good at - at least that's what he thought.

After standing like this for ten minutes he heard some rush footsteps, they were getting stronger and louder with every second, finally, the small space Kyungjun was standing in got smaller under the presence of the new person.

Kyungjun looked at the figure, the girl next to him was breathing fast - from running he supposed, her clothes were wet as well as her hair, she pulled her headphones down and let them swing around her neck.

He had never seen her before but Kyungjun didn't care about another victim of the rain - he had his problems to think about.

So he turned his head back as soon as the girl looked at him, he didn't want to look into her eyes like some creep.

After a while, he still could feel the girl's eyes on him but decided to let go of it and focus on something else.

He took a cigarette out of his green jacket as well as the lighter, he tried to start it a few times but the flame didn't want to stay in its place. Some curses could be heard from him but he didn't care, Kyungjun slammed his lighter on the ground with all his strength where it all broke into pieces.

He looked up from the ground and in front of his eyes he saw a pale, small hand holding something - another lighter. "Try this one" he heard, so the boy took the thing to his hand, and to his surprise it worked.

"You need to work on your anger" was heard from the side "Shut up" he Simply answered, he didn't have the energy nor patience to discuss his problems with a stranger.

"No, I'm serious, if a stupid lighter can make you this mad, then man, I don't want to know how other things can end their journey, or other people, try listening to some music it helps at least for me", and she softly smiled to him but also awaiting his next move.

"You don't look like the one who has any taste in music" Kyungjun didn't understand why she wasn't scared of him, did the rain erase his tough aura? "Then let me show you"

And that's how it started, she showed him her favorite playlist, and he did the same right after, they talked for a long time, long enough for Kyungjun to forget about his mean attitude, his problems or worries, and long enough to forget where he was.

"Well that's my ride," she said and got out of her space under the roof "I have to say you have really good taste in music" That was the last thing he heard from the girl before she got into a black car that stopped a few meters in front them.

He looked down and in his hand saw a lighter, the one that this girl gave him, but something was off, he looked again "Lee Y/N" was engraved on it.

✮⋆˙ julliet

Written by @myjlla on Tumblr; do not steal !!

[redheadspark]

hi i wanted to request from the august prompt list, i think number 8 would be absolutely great with Azriel from acotar! thank you love your writing always :)

A/N - AWWW This is so sweet! Thanks for the request, Anon!

Pace

Summary - Azriel was and will always be willing to go at your own pace.

Warnings - Nothing but fluff

“You doing okay back there?”

“Oh sure…you know….hiking was the best idea at the time,”

Azriel had to chuckle as you were trying to catch your breath while he was up head on the wide trail path.  The war sun was on your back and making you sweat into your tank top and workout pants, the cooler wind coming along from the high peaks to give you come kind of relief, but of course you are struggling immensely. 

Although it was a great idea at the time, you were not mentally kicking yourself.  What were you thinking?

You loved being Azriel’s mate, you truly did.  But the fact that he was constantly working out and staying in shape would seem like a chore to you in comparison to him.  He had to be in tip top shape as the Spymaster of Velaris and Night Court, his own physique was amazing to stare at.  You weren’t gong to lie and say you didn’t like gazing at your mate, you did.  

Yet at the same time, you were no workout fiend.  

A good hike or walk a few times a week was good enough for you, Azriel never had a problem with that.  He preferred you to be happy in your own skin and with how to felt about your body and your health than to try and keep up with him.  You loved cooking food that was hearty and filled with amazing spices and warmth, Azriel devoting every mela you made him and he would leave no scrapes behind.  You would prefer to lounge in bed or on the couch than join him in the wee hours in the morning for a training session at the Illyrian camps, yet that never bothered him.  You both were so in tuned with one another after 200 years of being mates and being married.

You suggesting hiking to a small river bank to go swimming together, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“Hey, you okay?” Azriel asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.  You waved him off and perhced yourself on a large boulder that was on the side of the trail, needing to catch your breath for a long moment since you were loosing your momentum.  You were only 1 mile away from the riverbank, already walking for 2 miles at a decent pace.  

“I just need to catch my breath,” You reasoned as he walked back over to you briskly and took off his backpack to find his water bottle and spare cloth in his bag, “It’s been awhile since we’ve hiked—“

“Drink, baby,” He said to you as he placed the water bottle on your hands, you draining in long drinks as he rubbed your thighs and arms calmly, “We can slow down, we don’t have to go this fast, okay?  I can even carry you the last mile if you want,”

Shaking your head and taking the water bottle off of your lips, “Az, I’ll be fine for the last mile..”

“I don’t mind at all,” He said to you as he swatted away some of the sweat from your forehead and pushed the hair from your eyes, “This hike was great idea….but maybe on a cooler autumn day and not during a heatwave,” 

You had to grin, knowing that it was true as Azriel went on, “Plus, I can feel it in the bond,”

It was both a blessing and a curse that you two were connected through your bond.  You sensed when he was tired after training at the Illyrian camps for hours on end, when he was frustrated or angry after dealing with the Inner Circle during an intense meeting.  He also felt it in you when you were pushing yourself a bit over the edge and within limits.  Azriel knew you were stubborn and you held your ground at times, and he knew when to calm you and bring you breath again.  

When you wanted to rush, he would slow you down and make you pace yourself.  When you wanted to go at a snail pace when making a decision, Azriel was right at your side and took your hand whole heartedly.  He would never leave you ahead or behind, not without him.  You both were each other’s better half, through the good and the bad.

“Sorry for slowing us down,” You were about to apologize, when Azriel was now the one shaking his head.

“Nope, you’re not going to say you’re sorry.  Nothing wrong with stopping and taking a break, right?  Come on, hope on my back and let me carry you,” He reasoned as he took his backpack and threw it over your shoulders to have your arms go through.  

“That’s not necessary,” You started to argue.

“You and I both know I can carry you since your light as a feather to me, or do I need to remind you of our honeymoon?” He teased with you with a wink, having you blush crimson as he then turn to show his backside to you.  His wings tucked in tightly against his back, you rolled your eyes and hopped on his back with ease.  As your legs were around his waist and your arms around his neck, his wings snug between you two while he stood up gracefully, he started walking with your plastered to his backside. 

“I feel like a monkey right now,” You grumbled as Azriel chuckled and kept his pace going along the path, as if you weight no more than a pebble on his back.

“And yet you’re sexier than a monkey,” He replied, pinching your thigh around his waist as you squealed and smacked his arm playfully.  Azriel loved going at your pace, no matter how fast or slow you were willing to go.

The End

August Prompts

[backtothefanfiction]

One Last Date For Christmas | PART ONE: An Arrangement At The Christmas Party

Summary: Another year, The same Christmas party and holiday hook up... or is it?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut (oral M & F receiving, p in v, mild dirty talk with Christmas references), Mentions of Cancer/Death, Fake Dating, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, this is basically Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movie vibes

Word Count: 5.9K+

A/N: Okay, so I've been feeling crumby lately and really need a boost, so although we took a poll and it was decided this whole story would go up as one piece at the same time, I need the motivation and have had a crumby week mentally and need a boost. So here is part 1. If you do enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I am like Tinkerbell, if I don't get attention I will die haha. But seriously my mental health needs the kind words for energy so please take a moment to share some if you like this part and not just like it. Anyway... ENJOY!!!

Another year, another fancy corporate business party Peter was obliged to attend due to his job. It had become such a regular routine over these last 7 years J. Jonah Jameson didn’t even bother asking if he was available to come anymore, just automatically emailed over the details so he could attend. 

Peter couldn’t completely complain. He got free drinks and fancy food for the night. I mean in reality he got to act just like any other guest, despite the camera he had around his neck for the night. And instead of paying to be there, he was instead getting paid to be there. Sure it was only an extra couple hundred bucks, but at this time of year it really did make all the difference.

Being a freelance photographer only made him so much a year, especially when the rest of his time was spent moonlighting as the local superhero which didn’t pay a thing. Not that he couldn’t have made some money as a public figure. A couple grand here to endorse a few products. A donation of thanks or two from business owners or generous members of the community there. All of which had been options that he had turned down. That wasn’t who Spider-Man was and definitely not who he wanted Spider-Man to be. And so at almost 40 years old, this was Peter’s life.

No wife. No kids. Not even a pet, because he couldn’t commit to spending enough time at home in his tiny run down box of a studio apartment, to look after it. He sometimes brought girls home, he did have needs after all, but no matter how interested they had been in him, he’d never let himself get attached. After Gwen he would never get attached again.

The only one to ever even come close was you. He had met you 5 years ago now at this very event. Just like him, you always felt like a fish out of water at these parties, despite always being on the guest list. Your Father was one of the big business benefactors of the party and ever since the divorce you had become his regular plus one. 

Just like Peter you were a chronic singleton, always too busy traveling for work to be able to sustain an actual relationship, despite your Mother trying her best every time you were home to set you up with some poor soul. She just didn’t get it. You didn’t believe in marriage anymore as most of them ended in divorce, your parents marriage and even two of your Uncle’s marriages prime examples alone; and as for children? You had decided at the age of 13 you wouldn’t have kids and no matter how many times your Mother, Grandmother or Aunt Sarah told you, you would change your mind, you hadn’t. If anything the birth of your brother’s kids had only cemented things more. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your niece and nephew, you were just always glad you could pass them back off to your brother and his wife after a few hours of their shrieking play and demands for cookies and ice cream, while fighting over what to watch on the telly. No, you had never wanted kids and you never would. You had however always wanted to get a cat, but until you changed jobs or just simply didn’t have to travel for work anymore, that would just remain a lovely little dream for the future.

Peter always arrived to the party early. After all, he was getting paid by the hour, so the longer he was there taking photos, the more money he could claim from the Daily Bugle finance department on Monday. He aimlessly wandered around taking photos of the venue and the table settings and the odd entering guest as people arrived. He helped himself to horderves off of shiny platters and the odd glass of champagne as he worked, seamlessly floating through the crowd, formally stopping people every now and again for more posed group shots, other times just taking candid photos of people mingling. He took the occasional booming order from J. Jonah Jameson, “Hey Parker! Make sure you get a shot of me with the Mayor. Parker! Come here and take a photo of me and Mrs Perez! Parker! Take a picture of me and my wife!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter would respond with a smile. Usually you were here by now to laugh at the way he followed the head of the Daily Bugle around like his lap dog, but as of yet you still hadn’t arrived. Then a horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind, ‘what if you weren’t coming this year.’ He had seen your Father walking about, had even taken a couple of photos of him with various business partners and city officials, but as of yet there had been no sign of you.

Peter checked his watch again hoping you were just running late, but the closer it got to 8.30pm and the start of the meal portion of the night, he started to give up hope. He knew you were busy, always flying between Tokyo, Milan, London and Paris for work; but you were always usually back home for the holidays. He was just about to check his watch again when you came through the door like a whirlwind in red.

He watched you like a Spider sizing up his prey as you made a beeline for your Father. You gave him a rushed greeting and an apologetic kiss to the cheek, before you followed him and the rest of his group to their table, placed closer to the small makeshift stage that had been erected at one end of the long window lined room. He kept his focus on you as you took your seat, your father pushing your chair in for you as you turned to greet one of the other women at the table a couple seats away from you. That was, until J. Jonah Jameson’s booming voice called him away again.

“Parker! You’re over here with us!” He barked as he ushered Peter over to a table on the other side of the room. He was just able to lock eyes with you and give you a friendly smile before he took his seat. “I’ve sat you on this side so you can get the wife’s good side.” Jameson continued to say.

There was a couple of speeches and awards before the food was served. Peter was pleased to find that he was in fact in a good vantage point in which he could take pictures of the stage this year without having to move. He also had a clear sightline to you too, his lens unconsciously moving in your direction every few shots then back again.

Peter had chosen the steak and hasselback potatoes for his dinner with a rich chocolate pudding for dessert. When he finished his meal, he dismissed himself from the table, as he traditionally did, to go around the tables and take a few more candid shots of people before taking a break at the bar. 

“I’ll take an old fashioned, please.” Your familiar voice suddenly came from beside him. “I’m sorry I was late.” you said as you leaned into him as if conspiratorially. “My flight got delayed.”

“Where were you coming from this time?” Peter asked as he took a sip from his own drink.

“Boston.” You said with a sigh. It definitely hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and his quizzical look at you said as much. “I was visiting my Mother. Her and her new partner Brad moved there a few months back to be closer to his grandchildren.” You explained.

“I’m guessing that means you got away with not being set up on a blind date this visit.” Peter fished, knowing your Mother’s habits and routines well after these last 5 years of annual hookups.

“You’d think so.” You said as you took a sip of your stiff drink, just to emphasize the drama of it all. “Turns out Maggie’s teacher is single and available.” you say with mock enthusiasm.

“Maggie?” Peter questions.

“One of Brad’s grandchildren.” you fill in with another sigh and eyebrow raise. “I wish she’d just give it a rest, you know?” You pause as you take another sip of your drink before you tell him, “I’m thinking of coming up with a fake boyfriend just to get her off my back. But then I know she’ll be all like ‘when do I get to meet him?’” you say doing an exaggerated impersonation of your Mother’s voice.

“Yeah, I think about doing the same thing with Aunt May sometimes, but I’d hate lying to her.” Peter confided.

“How is your Aunt?” you ask. The one blessing of only seeing each other once a year meant there were always things for you both to talk about and catch up on.

You watch as his face falls, his eyes turning sad as he looks into his drink. “Umm, they’re not good actually. We found out this year she has stage 4 breast cancer. The doctor said this is probably gonna be her last Christmas.” He struggles to look at you.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” you say, mustering up as much empathy as you can as your hand instinctively comes to rub at his back. “Is there nothing they can do?”

“They said they could try a few different treatments but it wasn’t guaranteed to work and May ultimately decided that… Well she said that she’s lived to a good age and if this is how she is meant to go, this is how she is meant to go.” He paused, blinking hard as he continued to stare at the liquid in his glass. “She said I was a grown man and didn’t need her anymore.” He let out a small unsatisfied chuckle that wreaked of denial, before he finally looked at you again. “I just… I just feel guilty, you know?”

“What for?” You asked him.

“It’s just. I know she was always holding onto this hope that I’d meet someone. That I’d end up finding someone and settling down. Live a life like her and Ben did.”

“But that’s not what you want from your life?” you question him now unsure, as you finally sit yourself on the bar stool next to him. “I mean, if you wanted that, isn’t that what you would have done? Gone out, met a girl. Settled down. You can’t be someone you’re not just to please others.”

“But it was what I wanted.” he suddenly confides. “And that’s why I feel guilty because she knows that. When I first introduced her to Gwen, I said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry Aunt May.’” he says with gusto, like he’s saying it exactly how he had said it to her, before his body deflates again.

“But things change. People change. We’re allowed to change Peter.”

“I know, but… she just, I know she never gave up hope.”

“You know what they say about hope?” You say.

“It breeds eternal misery,” he bristles.

“No.” You chastise. “It’s like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Peter’s brow furrows as his head turns back to you. “Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

“Princess Leia.” you smile.

“God I love you.” he says casually with a smile.

“I know.” you continue to beam back before you raise your glass towards him. “For Aunt May?”

“For Aunt May.” he agrees before clinking your glass with his own.

You both creep away a little before midnight, catching a cab back to your apartment. You always went back to your apartment. Peter said it was because he wanted you to be comfortable and said it was more homelier than his place, but the truth was, Peter was ashamed to take you back to his own apartment. It looked like a dingy run down squat or some really dodgy student housing in comparison to your place. 

He didn’t want to kid himself, he knew he was definitely punching above his weight a little when it came to you, not because he necessarily thought he was ugly, but more simply because you had more money than him. You’d never made him feel inferior for it. In fact you’d always wanted to help him by offering to put him in contact with some galleries so he could get more of his work out there. Maybe make some extra cash by selling some of his photos as art for the rich and wealthy, not just to a local paper, but Peter had never had the guts to take you up on the offer. It would make him feel indebted to you and throw the balance of your relationship off even more than it somewhat already was.

“Did you choose red because it’s my favourite color or just for the festivities?” He nibbled on your ear as his fingers ran across the velvet skirt of the dress, dragging it up to your thigh as he pressed himself against your back.

You hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights than the Christmas tree, before you stopped to take a moment to look out your window at the city. Christmas in New York was your favorite time of year. Every year to mark the occasion, you would go down to Rockefeller Plaza, grab a hot chocolate and watch as they turned on the lights. As kids you would go ice skating there. Less so now you were adults, your brother and his own kids had their own tradition of skating in Central Park on Christmas Eve, but some years you would still partake.

“I chose it for the season.” You sighed, your body relaxing back into him, head resting on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck.

“My festive little elf.” He teased as his fingers continued to work up the hem of your dress until they could reach your panties, which you had in fact bought new and chosen with Peter in mind.

“I even brought presents.” You plaid along teasingly.

Your breathing hitched slightly as the pads of his fingers dragged over your lace covered clit.

“Really? For me?” You could feel him smiling into the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “Maybe, you should unwrap me.” You tease back.

“Mmm.” He hums back deeply in delight as he turns you around to face him. The hand that was just ghosting at your centre, now wraps firmly around the back of your neck, as he smashes your rouge stained lips into his. 

His other hand begins pawing at the velvety fabric of your dress again before he’s pulling his face away from you, his grin growing too big and you can’t help but give a satisfying smile back as you notice how your lipstick has transferred from your lips to his, marking him as yours for the evening. Your hand reaches for his and you begin taking steps backwards, pulling him in the direction of your bedroom and awaiting bed.

Your room is a slight mess from your hasty packing before you left for Boston and your equally hasty unpacking upon your return. You’d just had enough time to get home and get changed, rushing your make up and hair, before you left to go to the party. Your suitcase lay open on the floor, some of the contents lay spilling out from where you had hunted around for your makeup bag. The little pink bag from Victoria Secret sat upside down on the floor beside it. Peter spies it the moment he enters the room.

He feigns shock, “Did you buy this for me?” He teases as he picks up the bag.

“Don’t get too excited Parker, they were having a sale.”

“I don’t care.” He says with a boyish grin, despite his 39 years of age. “Come here and let me see.”

You smile at him as you begin to step closer to him before calling out into the room, “Alexa, turn on mood lighting.”

His eyebrows raise as a lamp in the corner of the room turns on, illuminating your bedroom in a magenta hue. “Mood lighting huh?”

“Do you wanna be able to see your Christmas gift or not?” You sass back with a hand on your hip.

“I mean, I’ve always thought of you as my Christmas present, regardless of what you wear.” He says as his fingers begin to grab for you again and pull you into him.

“Next year I won’t bother then.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it a thing now. I’m gonna expect this, every- single- year- from now on.” He says between kisses across your cheek and down your neck and upper chest. You begin to giggle and shriek in delight as his lips gently nibble at your skin. “Mmm.  Come on then. Let’s see what you got for me.” He says ripping himself away from you so you have the space to reach behind you for the zipper to your dress. 

The dress begins to relax its hold on your body, slowly exposing the black strapless lace bra to Peter before you slide the dress down the rest of your body to show off the matching lacey bikini briefs. You carefully step out of the puddle that now is the red velvet dress on your floor, your ankles only wobbling slightly as you still stand in your heels for him to take in the full sight.

He pauses for a moment silently taking you in before he gives a small nod. “Yes. Yes, this will do. Excuse me a moment while I go and write my thank you letter to San-“

“Peter.” You whine.

“Oh come on, don’t be bratty with me now.” He says jokingly as he steps closer and wraps you in his arms again.

“I thought you liked it when I was bratty.” You joke back as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Nope. You become completely intolerable and insufferable and…” You roll your eyes as he continues to list words, but nonetheless, begin to snake your arms from around his neck, trailing them down his chest as you begin to get down on your knees before him.

You begin to work open the button of his jeans, freeing his semi hard cock from its confines. He only stops his fake monologue about you acting like a brat when you take his length into your mouth and his hand involuntarily reaches out for the side of your head as he sighs. 

The only sounds that fill the room now are his small gasps and moans and your saliva slick lips around his cock. One of your hands braces itself on his thigh, whilst the other works the rest of his shaft your mouth won’t reach.

You pull off him with a sloppy pop of your lips and Peter groans before you begin to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue and he jumps away from you with sensitivity, suddenly worried he’d blow his load too soon if you continue like that. It makes you giggle.

His fingers reach around the flesh of your bicep and he pulls you up off the floor before pulling you into him, his head nuzzling into your neck, lips and teeth nibbling and teasing at your skin and driving you crazy. He’d worked out that you liked that on the second Christmas you had slept together. He loved the way it made you sigh but also giggle and shriek when the sensation grew too much.

“Ahhh Peter.” you cried out with a high pitched moan. 

He reluctantly broke himself away from you and the intoxicating smell of your favorite perfume so you could latch your mouth onto his, a satisfied smile struggling to be contained on your lips. He can’t help but smile back.

“Peter!” you shriek and giggle as he reaches around to pick you up and drop you back onto the covers of your bed.

Your hands get lost in his hair as he begins kissing his way down your chest. Your stomach involuntarily twitches as his lips move across it and the way his hands reach for your hips to forcefully hold you in place sends you reeling, a wave of arousal soaking your panties. His lips skip over your underwear, instead kissing at the inside of your thigh as his hands begin to relax on your hips, his fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear, ready to pull them down.

As he removes you of your underwear, he also takes the opportunity to rid himself of the flattering black long sleeved top he’d been wearing all evening. The removal of his shirt reveals a silver necklace that had been hiding beneath the shirt and the way the chain hangs off his neck has you biting your lip. It is so rare to see a man wear jewelry so you never realized the effect the sight had on you before, but there's something about the connotations and hidden meaning to it, his choice and confidence to wear it, makes you want to rub your thighs together in want. 

His fingers are suddenly teasing at your entrance though and its almost enough to take the edge off, or it would be if his finger hadn’t stopped at the first knuckle of his middle finger. You realize he’s only done it so he can spread the arousal that was already leaking out of your cunt around between your folds and across your clit so he can then go in and lick it all off. Your head falls back into the pillows of your bed as you sigh out his name in relief.

You can feel the focus he has radiating off of him without even looking as he begins to expertly lick up from your entrance, swirl his tongue around your clit and then back down again as he draws moans, ever increasing in volume, from your lips. You found out very early on in your yearly dalliances that he was an expert with that tongue, making you cum not once, not twice, but three times just from his tongue alone, when you told him no one had ever actually gotten you off that way before.

You could feel your first climax of the night building low within you, your muscles growing tight, clit growing extra sensitive as your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, encouraging him and guiding him and not allowing him to pull away until you finished. The pressure of his tongue grew firmer and you ground your clit down against it until that tight thread within you snapped, your hips stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. He held tightly onto you, lapping up everything you gave him and helping you ride it out until you were actively pushing him away from you. He gave your bare thighs a small satisfactory slap as he gave you his smug tight lipped  smile that seemed to say ‘another happy customer’ and you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before turning your head and trying to hide the ear to ear smile that was on your face.

You were able to compose yourself as he shifted from the bed to shuck himself fully off the rest of his clothes, his jeans joining your red dress in a puddle on the floor, before he carefully lifted the necklace off over his head and placed it on your bedside table. You shifted yourself over on the bed as he came down to rest beside you, his hand reaching out to pull your face to him as he gave you a kiss before he encouraged you to climb up on top of him.  Your lips didn’t part from his as you straddled his waist, your cunt involuntarily rubbing itself along his hard length as your tongues intermingled with one another.

His fingers reached round to grab a hold of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as he encouraged you to grind down harder. You moaned and gasped against his lips at the drag of your clit across his skin. Your open mouth before him allowed him to reach out for your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth making you moan louder, before he began to trail kisses down your chin and neck. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling and the sounds of your own voice. It sent a new flood of arousal between your legs and you could feel Peter grinning against your skin as you worked your slick over his length.

You paused only long enough to reach over to your chest of drawers, pulling a box of condoms out of the second drawer. The position allowed Peter to attach his mouth over your breasts, his teeth biting at them over the lace bra. You reached behind you to unclasp it and take it off as you sat upright, Peter’s hands resting patiently on the tops of your thighs as he waited for you to then open the condom. You held out the torn open packet for him to take the condom and start rolling it down onto his length as you reached back over the side of the bed to drop the wrapper in the bin. 

You shifted your legs back slightly as you recentred yourself, one hand balancing on the bed, the other on his bare chest as he lined himself up with your entrance. He glided the tip of his cock against your folds, covering the tip of his cock with your slick before he began to encourage you back onto it. The slow fill of his cock inside you had you letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyes falling closed, head tilting back as you savored the feeling.

It had been a slow year. Despite a brief hook up with a guy over the summer after a night out with friends and a quick tinder hookup in your hotel in Rome (where the guy spoke barely a lick of English), your only companion had been your old reliable rabbit toy. You’d be lying if you hadn’t been counting down the days to tonight the whole time you had been visiting your Mother. When your flight had been delayed, it was the thought of missing out on your one good and guaranteed fuck of the year that had stressed you out. Now it all seemed worth it.

Peter started slowly, his hips pushing up into you at an agonizing pace as he guided you down and your hips back with every thrust, the contours of his cock dragging agonizingly slowly across every sensitive spot inside you, working you up gradually to another earth shattering climax. Your body bowed over him as you let out small gasps of praise into his forehead, your fingers gripping tightly into the sheets either side of his head. You felt one of his hands run soothingly up your back and it sent shivers down your spine that only added to the sensation building in between your legs.

“Peter.” you sighed against him, as you pressed your forehead into his, your eyes closed in concentration as you chased that feeling inside you.

“What is it? What do you need?” his voice gently calls to you as he moves the hand that was caressing your back round behind your neck, pulling your lips down to his for a kiss.

“More. I need more.” you say equally as gently back into his lips. 

You feel his head give a small nod in acknowledgment before he seals the deal with a kiss, as his thrusts begin to grow quicker and firmer in pace. It makes him hit something deep inside you that has you crying out. Your eyes fly open, desperate to lock onto his. He looks up at you with such beauty and gratitude. It makes you want to kiss him again and you do, your tongue licking deeply and slowly into his mouth in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your thighs shudder slightly as the sensation between your legs changes and you know your cumming again but the feeling of his cock moving between your legs doesn’t stop. It works you through the high and he still doesn’t stop. Instead his thrusts grow fast as he searches for his own release. You brace yourself, holding yourself over him as he just takes what he wants. If he holds out long enough you think you can get out one more orgasm of your own.

You balance yourself on one arm as your other hand reaches between your legs, swirling rapidly at your clit as you push yourself against his length, feeling every sensation of his rapid thrust. Peter grunts in response at the sensation of your fluttering cunt and it forces him to find one final push, his hips sputtering only slightly before he increases his angle and speed one last time, then he’s embracing you.

His arms wrap tightly around you as your final climax soaks his cock. Your head is buried into his neck as you try to shut out the overstimulation for just a few more strokes of his cock before he stills, his length pulsating as he finishes, only adding to the sensitivity between your legs making you squirm. He’s quick to push you off him as you do, his own sensitivity unable to take the feeling.

You both pause breathing deeply as you come down before he gives you a small tap and you flop onto your side on the bed. He quickly gets up, kicking his legs out to disperse the blood around them as his cock softens. You close your eyes to revel in the last dregs of your orgasm as he goes to your adjoining ensuite to sort himself out.

He takes a little longer than usual and you begin to frown, but then you hear the flush of the toilet and the door opening and you settle. You quickly get up, flashing him a smile as you hobble to your bathroom with legs like a newborn calf. Usual he’d let out a proud little chuffing laugh but this year he doesn’t.

When you return to see him sat on the side of the bed in his underwear, his fingers reaching to fix the necklace he had taken off back over his head and around his neck, you realize he looks distracted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask him as you climb over the bed to your rightful side and slip between the covers.

His head turns, eyebrows raising as if he’s only just noticed you’re back in the room. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, nothing.”

“Really?” you say as he shuffles himself round to face you, put he doesn’t get under the covers. Peter doesn’t sleep over. He stays for a debrief and a chat for maybe another hour, some years two, but always leaves to return to his own apartment and bed.

“It’s just,” he says as he places an arm under his head as he gets himself comfortable, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” you reply as you shift into a similar position to his, facing him. You look like two kids at a slumber party who have moved so close to each other so you can whisper really quietly and not disturb the others who are sleeping.

“About pretending to have a boyfriend to get your Mom off your case.”

You frown at him, “Yeah, but it’d never work because she’d want to meet him.”

“Okay, yeah.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of defeat, it instead says ‘wait, hear me out’. “But what if you had someone to take home and pretend to be said boyfriend?”

You’re still confused. “What are you trying to get at here Parker?” You suddenly sit up, placing distance between the two of you as a realization hits you. “Wait, this isn’t you asking me out or trying to be my boyfriend is it? You know I don’t really do the whole dating thing. We have our arrangement and that's-”

“No. NO. Would you just hear me out.” he speaks over you and cuts you off as he too sits up defensively. “Look, I just thought we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You’re silent as he pauses and takes a deep breath and you wait for him to continue. “Okay.” he says, his hands folding in his lap, “This is probably gonna be my Aunt May’s last Christmas.” he says and the implication of his words make you bristle. He struggles to look at you, but your eyes remain fixed on him so he know that you are listening and paying attention, even if his words are starting to make you uncomfortable. “I don’t want her to die thinking I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, you know? I mean,” he sighs, collecting his thoughts before he continues, “I don’t want her to die without hope.”

“Okay.” you acknowledge quietly as you follow his words.

“So I was thinking, what if- just for this christmas,” he emphasizes, “what if we pretend to you know, actually date. Come the New Year we go our separate ways as normal, no strings attached, but you know, just to get our families off our backs so we can live our chosenly single lives.” He screws up his face a little at the word chosenly, which he’s all but sure he’s made up but figures he’s gotten his point across.

“So, we pretend to date for the holidays to get our parents off our backs?” you frown, checking you’ve got his proposal right.

“Yeah. You’d come for Christmas Eve dinner with my Aunt and I’ll…” his voice trails off as he wracks his brain for an equal solution for you.

“You’ll come to Boston with me for my Mother’s New Years party.” You fill in for him.

He hesitates a second realizing he’d actually need to travel and stay with you and your family to make things even on your side of things, but the thought of letting May die thinking he’s going to be lonely forever, has his stomach turning more so he hastily agrees. “Fine, but-” he interjects, knowing a single day with his Aunt for a supposedly 2-3 day trip with your family isn’t a fair exchange, “if my Aunt is still with us in February, you have to stop by on Valentines day.”

“I thought you just said we go our separate ways come January.” You respond.

“Yes, but one meal with my Aunt in comparison to a multi day trip to Boston is hardly an equal-”

“Fine. Fine.” You concede with your hands raised.

He relaxes slightly as you come to an agreement. “You wanna shake hands on it or something?” he offers. You roll your eyes, your fingers reaching for the pillow you’d pulled into your lap to nervously fiddle with instead, picking it up and throwing it at him. “Hey.” he jokingly exclaims as he holds his hands up to catch the pillow before it hits him in the face. “Is that any way to treat your new boyfriend?” he deadpans.

“Uuuhhgg.” you scoff back with another eye roll but you can’t help the tiny smirk that creeps into the corner of your mouth.

I'm going to upload the other parts of this mini series on the dates that match up with the story (Christmas Eve, New Years Eve), if you want to be added to the list below, please put it in writing. All current tags have been taken from likes, reblogs or comments from other posts about this series, if you wish to be removed, just let me know. (I had a few more names who liked posts but it wouldn't let me tag you, apologies, I'm not sure how to fix that but I hope this finds you anyway.) Once again if you did like this, please don't just like it, respond with some words of your own to give me a boost.

@sincericida @tarzinnia @raindropsandteaandtears @xenasolos @dil3mma @ms-wild-card-56 @shivani1902

[bxby-bird]

Unmoved | Bakugo x Reader {request}

You and Bakugo had been dating for a few years; you both went to U.A. You both were in the hero class, but shortly after leaving the school, you realized you indeed didn't have what it took to be a pro hero, so making the change you went on to land a job at the hospital. Your work there made you feel needed just as much, but there was always something in the back of your mind... Bakugo. The ever-growing fear of what could go terribly wrong always lived in the back of your mind.

Tonight was the night you'd make a significant choice; taking a deep breath, you looked at Bakugo as you both sat on a roof. You knew it would change the dynamic forever, but it was something you had to do for the sake of your mental health.

"Katsuki... I-I love you, I really do..." Your voice broke as you tried to build the courage to keep going. "But, I can't keep going on like this... I am worried you will return to me in a body bag." Tears streamed down your cheeks as you continued to list your fears.

"Baby, I know, but I can protect you-" Katsuki stopped midway as he realized you were leaving, silently sobbing.

The next few weeks become blurs for you and Bakugo. From what you've heard from your mutual friends and the news, Bakugo became more ruthless and wreckless in his missions. Whenever anyone would bring up their concerns, he'd shrug them off, and he lost you; he had nothing left to care for. He had tried to talk about what happened to Izuku but couldn't get the words out, so instead, he decided to fling himself into work and didn't care what happened. The one thing he wanted was gone.

Bakugo's mind kept returning to you; he'd think of your relationship and how much he missed you. He'd reflect on the last year. He never verbally expressed how much you meant to him, but he'd also assumed you'd see through his actions how much he loved you. Meanwhile, on your end, you struggled at the hospital. Your mind drifted to Katsuki and the life you two had built together. You wouldn't lie about how much you missed him.

A few months pass, and you are at a charity event at the hospital. You wore a black gown, your hair in a loose bun, and the earrings Katsuki gave you on your birthday. Sighing, you walked around the event until you walked into a man's back without paying attention.

"I'm sor-" you stopped mid-sentence as the man turned around. It was him, it was Katsuki. You quickly ran off, you couldn't see him your heart was instantly broken seeing his face.

After the event ended, Bakugo tracked you down, pulling you aside with an angry look on his face.

"Tell me, Y/N, did you move on from us? Do you even care?" He questioned. You could tell he was trying not to yell in public. "Is that why you can't even look at me?"

Tears welled, "no, I'm not seeing anyone... but I stand by my decision, Katsuki," you whispered.

"I can't even move on, no matter how I try, even though I don't want to! You were the only person I've let in, and I can't imagine my life without you in it, Y/N!" Katsuki's voice rose just above an average talking volume. "I promise to protect you. I love you so much, but I know I can't force you to be with me... but I'll never move on, and I will spend every day waiting for you."

Looking at Bakugo, you could see the pain mixed with hope in his eyes. You had to decide if you wanted to be with him again, trusting him and living with worries. Or, you can choose to walk away forever.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, "goodbye, Katsuki..." you whispered before walking away for good. Leaving a broken Katsuki left to pick up the pieces.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being physically close with a guy before breaking up with my ex? (🧋 To find easier)

Sorry for the long explanation!

Last year I( at the time 16, closeted Agender) was dating this guy (at the time 16, M) who we'll call T. Looking back on it I realise I mostly started dating him because he was the first genuine friend I'd made after moving to our country during COVID, and I've always struggled to differentiate romantic and platonic feelings. A few months in I could tell that this simply wasn't working for me and that the only reason I wasn't leaving was because he really really liked me (I was the first person he'd ever dated) and I'd feel guilty for breaking his heart. Eventually I realised I was somewhere on the Aromantic spectrum, so I came out to him expecting it to be an instant deal breaker. He took me being aro much better then I expected and didn't see it as a reason for us to break up ,and I ended up crying a bunch and was so caught up in the euphoria of him accepting me that I agreed to stay in the relationships.

A few weeks pass and things keep deteriorating, to the point where I thought I was ace (I was not. Turns out I just really was not attracted to him anymore) and because I was still too much of a coward to explain my reasons for breaking up directly, I tried to break up with him under the guise of being aroace because I thought SURELY this horny teenage boy would see this as a deal breaker! Again, he accepted me and again I was so full of guilt/euphoria that I let him talk me out of breaking up.

A bit after this, but BEFORE I finally cut off things for real, I a met a guy(at the time 17, m), K, through my friend's sister when I visited their house at the same time as him. We hit it off instantly, both bonding over being aro (though at the time I still thought I was ace) and within the first night of knowing each other we were cuddling, I sat on his lap (I also did this with my first friend but I'd known her for much longer then a few *hours*) and he was coming up and hugging me from behind. I made it very clear I was in a closed relationship, and both me and K agreed at the time that the touching was just platonic, esp since we are both just generally very touchy-feely people and despite T's many more incel-y traits he was never the jealous type.

Me and K met up a few more times, and we continued being touch-y. When he hugged good bye he'd put his hands on my waist, we'd frequently cuddle, he'd lay his head on my shoulder, I'd like down on his lap, etc etc. there was a boob touching incident once but that was an accident so I don't think it really counts? There also might have been an incident where he put his hand up my shirt a bit (like waist level, not bra level). He made sexual jokes about me and the only thing I did to rebuff him was saying that I was still in a closed relationship, not that I wasn't interested. After the third time we met up I finally accepted that I DID like him sexually, and that I was definitely not ace. I know thought crime isn't real but I feel like such as ass for being so touchy with K and using friendliness as an excuse. I AM touchy with my other friends, but even in the moment I knew my feelings for K were different then that.

I broke up with T about a week later (only reason it took that long is cause we live far away and I didn't want to break up over the phone, especially since that's what I did the previous two failed times). Me and K became friends with benefits a few days later. K knows he helped me realise I really needed to break up with T, but I haven't told him how big of a last straw he was.

I do not feel guilty about breaking up with T, he ended up being a huge asshole, however I am very against cheating. No matter how much I hate T for being a creepy bigoted asshole (would nag me about nudes every night, sent me massive paragraph long guilty trippy texts about how bad his mental health was even months after we broke up, is a little too into WW2 and his German great grandparents which makes my Jewish ass very uncomfortable, and he's said a lot of horrible things about me studying Sign Language) he still does not deserve to be cheated on. I feel like I tried my best to correct the situation once I came to terms with my own feelings, but I was still absolute pushing the boundaries even when I subconsciously knew the way I felt about K was different then my other friends.

This all happened a year ago now, My friends who met T and know about me and K are generally on my side because they dislike T, but Idk still feel guilty when I think back on how stuff unfolded. I know it might just be silly teen drama but I really hate the idea of being a hypocrite who preaches against cheating and then does basically the same thing

What are these acronyms?