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ursuu-la · 5 months ago

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Just in time. - S. Reid.

summary: Where Spencer was at the right place and time.

wc: 1.9k

tw: mentions of suicid3, suicid3 att3mpt, not feeling enough, driving at full speed(?).

a/n: this is not exactly romantic, but I felt the need to post something angsty and this was the first thing that came to my mind. I hope that you enjoy it, but that you don't identify with the feelings :( if so, my inbox is open♡

Also, requests are open!! I think I'll write about Hotch too, just so yk

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"See you guys tomorrow!" Spencer waved goodbye and walked out the door. You smiled before he left and turned your attention back to your stuff.

You were organazing all the things on your desk, at the same time you kept on your bag the ones you always took home: your phone, your keys, and some paperwork that you didn't want to finish in the office. It was almost 9p.m. and there were now only three members of the team left in the office: Morgan, JJ and you.

Once you finished clearing your desk and had everything you needed inside your bag, you walked past JJ and Derek, greeting them both goodbye. You spoke a little with both of them, making sure that the case hadn't affected them so much. You cared about your friends, and wanted to be there for them if they needed someone to vent to. Both of them told you that they felt as usual, which conformed you.

"And you? How are you doing, (y/n)?" JJ asked when you finished checking up on her.

"Fine, I guess." You spoke and smiled to her. Your friend just returned the gesture, wished you goodnight, and then dragged her attention back to the paperwork.

You walked out of the office and, for a second, you kept the smile on your face, but then it slowly started to fade as you walked towards your car.

Even though you had just told JJ that you were feeling fine, the truth was that the last couple of months had been rough on you. The explanation was hard to find, but during this time, you were feeling... just bad about yourself. No matter how many people you saved or how many cases you solved with the team, whenever you got back home, you couldn't help but feel that you hadn't done enough.

The feeling started growing bigger and bigger as the months passed by. You had tried to speak about it with the rest of the team: but something was stopping you. It was frustrating because you didn't usually have any trouble communicating your emotions, and the fact that no one noticed you were struggling made you feel even worse.

Now you were driving back home, no music playing, only your thoughts filling your head. You remembered every part of the case, and as you replayed it in your head over and over, you found new ways in which you could have been more helpful.

"Agh... I hate this..." Your voice sounded frustrated. What was the point of keep going to cases if every single time you felt the same afterward? What was the point of having people around you if you couldn't open up to them and vent your feelings? What was the point of it all?

Suddenly, you felt one tear falling down your cheek. You wiped it off. It brought you back to reality. You were driving, and since it was late, there was no one on the street. Your hands started to shake as the thought appeared in your head.

The whole street was empty, your car would be the only one damaged. You would be the only person hurt, the only mortal victim. Your hands were still shaking, anxiousness creeping inside you as you tried to think of a reason why that was stupid.

But nothing came to your mind.

Nothing was stopping you.

Not even red lights.

Now there was more than one tear falling down your cheek, and you were wiping none of those off your face: you were letting them fall. Your foot pressed the gas with all of its strength, you could hear the engine getting louder each second.

Your heart rate accelerated, your eyes were blurring because of the tears, and you could feel how every part of your body shook. You were about to turn aside your car, knowing that at that speed there was no way of getting out of there intact, but you heard a noise: it was another car.

You stopped the car as fast as you could because your vision had suddenly been cleared, and you noticed that a car was in front of you waiting on a red light. That same car had made the noise. Scared of not stopping at the right time, you turned sharply the steering wheel, causing you to end up in another lane.

When your car was still, you took your hands off the steering wheel and placed them in your head. Just in that moment, you noticed what you were about to do, which made you burst into tears.

"What the hell was I think- AAH!" You yelled out of fear when you heard a knock on the car window. You rolled it down, ready to yell at whoever was standing there. But when you saw the person, your words got stuck in your throat.

"(y/n)?" His voice was like a slap across your face. You felt like you couldn't move. "Hey, are you okay?" He placed one hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the state you had gotten into.

"Spencer..." Was the only thing you were able to say. "Did you...?"

"Yes. I mean- I saw a car coming at full speed behind me, and I tried not to get killed. But... Are you... Are you okay? What were you doing driving like that?" Spencer questioned, yet he didn't have an accusing tone. It was a worried and concerned one.

"I was..." You couldn't speak. How were you supposed to tell him that you almost committed suicide and that almost got him into a car crash? 'Hey Spence, guess what? I wanted to kill myself and almost took you with me, haha!' There was no easy way to say it nor a way to disguise it as something else.

You looked up at Spencer, his gaze met yours. His face was scanning every inch of yours, looking for an answer. When you saw him properly, you felt like you didn't need to speak: you felt like you needed a hug.

"Step back, I'll open the door." You spoke, Spencer took a few steps back and looked confused at your every action. When you walked out of the car and suddenly hugged him, his face turned surprised.

"I don't know what to..." His voice was low. He was hugging you back, perceiving that you needed it. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

You nodded with gratefulness, appreciating Spencer's words. The two of you remained silent for a while after you let go of the hug until you dared to speak about the situation. Both of your cars were parked on the side of the street, and you were sitting on the sidewalk.

"Spencer, I was... trying to end it all, I just wanted to..." He lifted up his gaze to meet your face, but you were looking down at the floor. Not sure if you wanted to make eye contact while confessing the situation.

"Where you about to...?" Reid couldn't finish the question, he averted what you were about to say, he just didn't want to believe that it was true. You were one of the happiest people Reid knew, and thinking that behind that bubbly personality he knew, hid an amount of pain that made you think of suicide as a solution, made his heart sank.

"Yes. I... I don't know what I was thinking... I just reached the edge, and everything feels like too much." Now you dared to look into his eyes, concern filled his face. Seeing Reid like that made you feel worse because you felt like you were only bothering him. "Oh, dear lord. Now I'm just taking away your time. Maybe I'll just need to sleep this off..." You started speaking as you tried to get on your feet, but Spencer stopped you.

"Wait. Don't try to escape the problem." He spoke as he gestured you to sit comfortably again. "I'll be here until the sun comes up if it's necessary. I care about you (y/n), and what just happened is not something to take lightly."

Spencer's words were simple, but they were the right ones; as soon as you heard him, you started crying. Reid tried to hide it, but seeing you like that made him want to hug you as tight as possible and never let you go. How could someone so good be suffering this much? He thought you didn't deserve to feel that way.

"I just don't know what's happening to me... I don't usually feel like this, but these last months have been from bad to worse."

"And we didn't notice?" His voice was loaded with guilt. He was a profiler, and he couldn't have been able to notice your mood or signals. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)."

"It's fine. I jus-"

"No, it's not. We should have noticed, I should have noticed you were struggling. Because what would have happened tonight if I wasn't there with my car?" Reid's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, you could swear that you saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"But you were there. You saved me." You spoke as you rested a reassuring hand on his arm. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "What is it?"

"I'm the one that's supposed to be reassuring you. Not the other way around." You couldn't help to smile, which had the same reaction on Reid. "You're always putting others first and yourself last... You're too good for this world."

"I'm not that good. I can always do better on cases, and I barely help to resolve anything." The words that had been repeating inside your head for the last couple of months were spoken for the first time. Spencer looked at you, his face getting sadder than it already was.

"Stop putting yourself down. You're literally the best human being I know." He spoke with a sad smile on his face. "I truly can't understand where you got those awful ideas about you."

You didn't speak. Every word that came out of Spencer's mouth made you feel worse for even trying to do what you tried to. For the third time that night, you were crying, but this time, a hand was caressing your face. You looked at Spencer, who had started to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"I just... Don't understand myself... I feel like everything I do has a negative effect on people. I need to take a break... from everything..."

"I get it. Maybe it would be better if you just take some time off work. Take some time to care about yourself, treat yourself with some love, and maybe that will help you to heal whatever has triggered these emotions." Spencer took his hand away from your cheek. "Furthermore, I could help you to find any kind of professional help to overcome this. There are plenty of ways in which I can help you, just say the word."

"Thank you, Spence." You spoke with a soft voice, he only nodded lightly.

"I didn't do anything, really. I just happened to be there." He was trying to be modest, but you were way too grateful to let him be like that.

"Spencer, you saved my life. Take a little credit for that." You chuckled, and Reid's face lighted up: seeing you at least a fraction as happy as you were before made him feel better.

Reid wanted to tell you how happy he was for being there at the right moment. He wanted to tell you how important you were to him and how he would have been devastated with your loss. But now was not the time: he knew you needed to think about yourself, and once you felt better, maybe then he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #angst spencer reid #angst #angst with a happy ending

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seongclb · 1 year ago

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CUPID’S MISTAKE ! sim jaeyun

♫ crybaby by the neighbourhood

SYNOPSIS. you’ve never understood why he gets so many dates all the time, he’s bloody insufferable. you can’t stand him at all, yet everyone else is crazy for him. i guess, you’ll find out what’s so irresistible about himself, soon. after all, he’s planning your valentines date together already.

PAIRING. playboy!enha x reader, slight enemies to lovers au, angst & fluff.

WARNINGS. cursing, suggestive ish make outs but they’re not that bad & jake being MEANNN.

WORD COUNT. almost 9k (8,976)

N. hi guys it’s finally out! member reveal omg !! feel like this fic could have been way better but i promise to make the next not as rushed and rubbish :( lmk what u guys think thoughhh .. also big thank you to @dazed-hee for beta reading :)

TAGLIST. @delcakoo2 @flwrshee @woon2u @rikizm @luckyowl @luvistqrzzz @mrchweeee @seungiesluv @x-mbl

1. I THINK I TRY TOO HARD.

You always hated the first days of school, but for some reason, they had always summed up your year perfectly. Something about them was always so exciting.

Every first day of school for four years now, you started your day with a Starbucks accompanied by your best friends: Yunjin and Taehyun. The sweet taste of the coffee greeting your tastebuds first thing in the morning paired with your - somewhat - lovely best friends. They spent the entire morning bickering, but still, it was a pleasant start to the morning.

Entering the school gates, you heard Yunjin beside you say, “Guys, get a good look. This is the last first day of high school we’re going to have.”

Taehyun rolls his eyes, “Literally makes no difference at all. We’ll see this shithole for another year.”

“Do you always have to contradict what I say?” She huffs to which Taehyun happily nods and you laugh at the entire situation.

“What lesson do you all start with?” You ask. “I have Chemistry with Mr Kim.”

“Same,” your friends say in unison, so you make your way to Chemistry, listening intently to the bickering that continues.

Straight away, your teacher puts you in a seating plan, despite the many complaints against it. You get placed at the back corner, the seat beside you remaining empty for now while Yunjin sits a few rows ahead of you to your left and Taehyun sits one seat ahead of you.

Quickly, the class begins to get full but your eyes linger on a certain nuisance strutting into the classroom.

Mr Kim informs him of his seat, which he begins striding to in his tampered version of the school’s uniform that everyone seems to think looks “cool”. Only until he stands right beside you do you realise that his seat is the one right next to you.

“Hi partner,” Jake smiles at you, before taking a seat.

“There has to be some kind of mistake,” You say, raising your hand to protest against this act of horror.

Jake brings his own hand up to pull yours down, “You know how Mr Kim is, he’ll assign you a detention if you make a fuss. He’s short tempered, I learnt that the hard way so trust me.”

You pull your arm away from Jake’s hold, “He’s short tempered with students like you, not honour students like me.”

“Okay, snobby much. You’ll have to lose that characteristic of yourself if you wanna be friends. Or more?” He winks at you, causing your face to deform in disgust.

Jake laughs at the way you cross your arms, “Relax, Jaeyun. I have no interest in you.”

“We’ll see.”

The rest of the lesson is spent working with Jake rather than working against him, since he’s good at Chemistry, which isn’t a surprise as you were aware that science was his strong suit.

The only issue is the amount of jokes he’s made about you and him having Chemistry; they just get worse every single time, too.

“See you on Wednesday, Y/n,” Jake smiles at you. Seeing the way his lips curl into a sweet smile forces you to smile back at him even if it’s against your will, but you catch yourself rather quickly and scoff at him before leaving with your friends.

Yunjin and Taehyun drag you to your usual bench in the school, forcing you to take a seat as they also take a seat to sit in front of you and immediately begin questioning you.

Yunjin is the first to start, “Wow, Y/n. After years of judging me for finding Jake attractive, here you are flirting with him the whole lesson.”

“I was not!” You exclaim in disbelief.

Taehyun slings an arm around your shoulder, “Y/n, I sit in front of you. I heard all of the jokes he made.”

“Yeah, then you also heard the way I told him to be quiet after every single one of his corny ass jokes. He’s a little shit.”

“A little shit who has you wrapped around his finger already,” Yunjin and Taehyun high five.

“I never thought Jake would be the reason why you two are agreeing for once,” You say. “In all honesty, looks and science are his only strong points which is why he uses them for his personal gain. The amount of hearts he’s probably broken in the space of two weeks is probably more than people I’ve ever spoken to in my entire life.”

Contradicting their previous statements, your two best friends nod at this and cease their teasing because it was true, Jake was too much of a flirt. He’s always had that reputation about him; the one where his choice of words can make anyone swoon for a while, until he’s bored of them. Especially if he uses that smile of his, he could get away with anything.

But not with you. You weren’t like that. Not the type to be swayed by his antics.

Perhaps, it was because school had always been your main priority so you never really had time to be distracted by guys like Jake and now that it was your senior year, there definitely wasn't enough time to get distracted by Jake. He just wasn’t worth it.

Or so you thought.

You found now that Jake would always be sitting in his seat before you in Chemistry, greeting you with that smile of his every single time, and even going as far as pulling out your chair for you just like a gentleman would.

“Save it, Jaeyun. We all know that being a gentleman isn't your thing.”

“Of course it is. How do you think I get all the women to fall for me?” He has a response for everything.

“Well, that definitely won't happen this time, Jaeyun,” you remark, smiling teasingly at him.

He pauses for a moment which causes you to look at him - he wasn't the type to pause after something like that.

Jake has a smirk plastered on his lips, “No one else calls me Jaeyun. Why do you call me that?”

With a sigh, you respond, “Because, I know all your playthings call you that, so it would seem inappropriate to call you the name that they do, as I definitely am not one of your playthings.”

He simply just laughs and calls you a nerd under his breath.

“Have you heard about the cupid thing that’s going to happen?” He asks you.

It was called the Cupid Fantasy Draft and it was all Yunjin could talk about for the last three days. The Cupid Fantasy Draft was an odd occasion that your classmates were organising in which there would be students paired together and they would go on dates and stuff for the entire year. You thought it was a silly idea as it was basically forcing people to date, but Yunjin argued that it was a good idea since people could get to know others easier. You didn't argue with it that much since you knew you wouldn't get picked.

“Yes, I have. Stupid idea.”

Jake groans, “Do you have to be so boring all the time? Have some fun once in a while. You never know, you might get picked.”

This causes you to pry yourself away from your books to look at Jake with a stare that seems to catch him off guard.

“Even if someone is dumb enough to pick me, they can’t force me to go to it.”

Once again, he responds to you with, “We’ll see. Did you know that this cupid date is also your valentine? So you don't have to worry about being lonely on Valentine's day like you always have been!”

“Ha ha,” You mock. “Are you even doing this thing?”

“Of course.”

You laugh, “This doesn’t seem like your type of thing. Isn’t this too restricting for you?”

A deep frown washes his face, “What do you mean by that?”

“Aren’t you used to dating two people a day? Why the sudden change of heart?”

Jake shrugs, “Maybe, I’ve met someone.”

To this, you feel a small hit to your chest at the thought of Jake with someone else but you easily brush it off, “Yeah, right.”

What the hell was that?

At lunch, your friends are conversing about the Cupid Fantasy Draft happening later that evening - just like they have been for days now - while your nose is buried into a romance book to make up for the ever so slight damage to your heart in Chemistry. The aim of the romance novel was to remind you that Jake Sim was not worth being hurt over, and instead the fictional character showering his beloved in endless amounts of affection was causing you to swoon.

You’re pulled away from your fictional fantasy by a voice calling you, “Y/n! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Jake stands behind you, with Sunghoon and Jay to his side, sending you friendly smiles.

“What do you want, Jaeyun?”

He holds out a familiar pen. It was one of your favourite pens, designed with a bear and had a sweet scented smell to add to the speciality of the pen.

“How did you get this?” you attempt to snatch it away, but Jake is quick to snatch it back.

“I took it in Chemistry, it looked cute,” He smiles and brings it up to his face to smell it. “Smells nice, too.”

“Very funny. Give it back, now. That’s my favourite pen.”

He shakes his head, mockingly, “It can’t be your favourite if you didn’t even notice I took it.”

You huff in annoyance, “That’s because I was rushing to get out of the class so I could get away from you.”

Jake jokingly puts his hand on his chest and rubs it to pretend he’s in pain due to your comment, before placing the pen in his pocket, “I’m sure you’ll be fine for a few hours without it. Come to the Fantasy Draft and you’ll get it back.”

Not missing the opportunity to wink flirtatiously, he turns on his heels with his friends and leaves.

Your protests against the event had no effect on your friends, who dragged you out of the comforts of your bedroom, completely wasting your perfect night of studying. Yunjin even went to the effort of picking out an outfit for you and tricking you into putting it on by pretending she needed inspiration of her own.

“If I come to this thing and none of you get picked, I’m going to lose my shit,” You warn as you walk up to the door of the house that it was taking place at. “Whose place even is this?”

Your question is answered by an immediate swing of the front door opening, revealing Jay in black jeans and a cream jumper.

It was nice to see him in a different colour for once. It made sense that this was his home - you noticed the Porsche parked in the driveway along with the three story house.

“Hey, come in,” He says, leading you through the house, “It’s about to start, so you’re on time.”

Your eyes search Jay’s large mansion looking house until they meet a familiar individual.

You take notice of the girl sitting at his side, recognising her from walking around the hallways at school.

Without taking another look at him, you take a seat on the couch and Yunjin follows.

“Jake strikes again,” She says, staring at the girl beside him who's too busy giggling at whatever he’s saying to notice you staring her down.

“Expected.”

That feeling from Chemistry seemed to make its way back, you felt your chest ache slightly. But again, you pushed it away just in time for Jay to return and for the Cupid Fantasy Draft to start.

Jay takes a seat at the centre and begins explaining the rules, “Listen, I don’t know who made this idea but I’ll just go through the rules and shit. We go in order and you pick someone who is “yours” for the entire year. Get it?”

There are no interruptions, causing the event to commence.

Jay goes first, and soon it goes around in a circle - with Yunjin and Taehyun surprisingly getting picked - until the last one left is Jake.

His turn makes everyone stop and listen. You weren’t the only one surprised that he was taking part in this event, so you knew people would be talking about the lucky pick all year round. After all, it was known that he wasn’t the type to stick to one person, so it was extremely shocking that he was going to choose someone to spend the entire senior year with.

Taehyun leans in to whisper in both yours and Yunjins ears, “Betting 10 that he’ll choose Y/n.”

You shove his arms and moments after, Jake smirks at you, “I choose Y/n.”

Your face drops. Your heart, however, is jumping in happiness while an entire population’s worth of butterflies fly around in your stomach. Fighting the urge to smile at him is almost as irresistible as him.

Fuck, he’s got me, you think to yourself.

Everyone’s eyes are fixated on you as you leave the room, running up the stairs until you enter one of the many rooms of Jay’s place.

There were far too many thoughts running through your brain right now.

Jake Sim, Sim Jaeyun. He chose you for the Cupid Fantasy Draft?

A feeling of sickness started to rise within you. Why, why, why. You probably had a bounty written on yourself now without even knowing the reason why Jake had picked you.

A knock on the door brings you away from the millions of thoughts imprisoning you.

“Y/n?” Yunjin’s voice is clear as day and you open the door. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. This is so random,” You respond, putting your head in your hands.

Yunjin nods, “Look. Even though Taehyun and I have made so many jokes over the last two months about you and Jake, we both know how he is and to be honest, even though Taehyun somewhat a predicted it, he’s shocked as fuck right now. We all knew Jake would have picked someone tonight but for some reason, I still thought he wasn’t going to take this seriously.”

“What if he isn’t?” You question. “What if he’s just using me as a plaything?”

“Well, Y/n, you’re smart enough to know when that’s happening.”

She’s wrong though. Over the last two months, you’ve enjoyed your jokes and snarky comments with Jake but most of all, you’ve had memorable conversations, too.

From favourite ice cream flavours to biggest fears in life, you’ve enjoyed every single bit of it, so it was hard to tell if he was really using you. There was something about the way your conversations flowed that made you think Jake was beginning to open up to you. Now, thinking about it, you felt silly for perhaps blurring the line between Jake being a good talker and him genuinely having an interest in you.

Then again, he had picked you for the draft. This was all too confusing, all too much for only your brain to handle alone.

“Yunjin, I have something to tell you.”

Right there and then, you explain the last two months and how with Sim Jaeyun, time means nothing since he’ll have you wrapped around his finger whenever he wants.

By the end of the night, both you and Yunjin have opened the snack drawer in the room you’re in and have discussed quite a lot: Jay, what to do about Sim Jaeyun and how to exit Jay’s mansion without getting caught.

Right now, you’re on the third part where Yunjin is standing guard at the front door and keeping an eye out for Jake or his comrades.

You rush down the stairs, just about to leave the door until…

“Y/n! Jake’s been looking everywhere for you,” Sunghoon puts an arm around your shoulder and drags you to the living room as Yunjin mouths an apology to you.

Once again, your eyes meet Jake’s figure. Only this time, he doesn’t have a companion stuck to his side. Instead, he has a drink in his hand that’s resting on the rip in his jeans and he looks bored to death. Again, hope begins to rise within you.

He looks up and jumps to his feet, “I thought you left.”

“I tried to,” you admit, making Jake laugh heartily.

He beckons to the door, “Let’s get out of here.”

You follow Jake, preparing to yell at him for his actions tonight but your anger disappears when he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the door and into his car. You can feel how cold his fingertips are from previously holding the cup in his hand, but you don’t seem to mind it at all.

Sitting at the driver’s seat, your eyes focus on his face. His nose is perfectly curved, accentuating the other features of his face such as his lashes that lay flat against his eyelids to match the shape of his eyelids. You’ve taken notice of this over the months; watching the way they crinkle when he laughs and the giggle leaves his lips.

“Soooo,” he breaks the silence and tilts his head to look at you.

“Don’t “soooo” me, Jaeyun. What on earth are you playing at? And, where’s my pen?” Even though you’re asking in such an angry tone, Jake can’t help but giggle at how endearing you can be sometimes.

He reaches into his pocket and passes you your pen, “Here. I don’t know what you’re talking about, by the way. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’s right, but you still argue, “You knew I didn’t want to be picked tonight, and you did it anyway. Why?”

Jake shrugs, “I took it as a challenge earlier. I thought it would be fun, too.”

Your eyes roll, “Is that all that matters to you?”

He nods, “Is there something wrong with that? Plus, this way we can do useful things that I’m sure are appealing to you, like study dates.”

There goes your heart doing backflips again. Dammit, Jaeyun.

“You don’t have to say yes, you know. You said so yourself that nobodies forcing you to do this. But, I’m just saying that I heard you needed help for Physics and I’m the man for it,” Jake informs you.

That was true, Jake had won every Physics award that existed at school. A few years back, he had even competed nationally and gotten first place.

“As long as you don’t call it study dates, we’re on,” You say, much to both his and your surprise.

“The only catch is,” He says, “You can’t fall in love with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “As if it was possible, Sim.”

Lie. Your heart was evidence of it.

Jake decides to take you on a quick drive, switching from driving fast and slow just to get a panicked reaction from you to amuse himself.

He parks outside a homely cafe, and exits the car without a word. Seconds later, he opens your door and helps you out with his hand reached out again. You were never one to deny affection from good looking guys.

The cafe owner greets him immediately, “Jaeyun!”

Jake rushes behind the counter and embraces the woman in a tight hug as you watch in shock, your mouth agape but still feeling the warmth radiate from the sight ahead of you.

The woman leaves the hug to look at you standing near the door, a smile creeping on her lips as she looks at Jake for an explanation.

“Y/n, this is my mum,” Jake says, almost sheepishly if that was possible for him.

Your eyes widen as you manage to stutter out, “Nice to meet you, Mrs Sim.”

Why the hell has he taken me to meet his mother right now, you think to yourself. He literally just told me not to fall in love with him, and he’s making me meet his mother of all people?

Jake excuses himself to wash his hands, leaving you and his mother alone. She calls you over with a warm smile.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

You search the menu and end up choosing a milkshake.

“So, are you Jaeyun’s partner?” She asks you.

You shake your head, and she frowns, “That’s a shame. You seem like a nice person . I always hoped the one he would bring to me would be the one he was going to marry.”

Pause.

You were the first one out of the hundred that got to meet his mother? There was no way. Why was he being so confusing?

Jake appears into the room with a smile, “Mum, we’ll take whatever to go. Y/n and I have a few plans for tonight.”

His mum smiles at him, “Bring her more often. I wanna meet her properly.”

Jake’s ears go bright red as he nods, giving his mum a kiss on the cheek before leaving with you.

This couldn’t be possible; this had to be one big nightmare.

“Your mum is very pretty,” you tell him and he smiles at you.

“She reminds me of you.”

Your heart is thumping again, so loud that you’re worried he’s able to hear it. You wonder how he can casually say this and then turn back to whatever he’s thinking about.

“Shut up, Sim.”

You decide not to ask what it is that reminds him of her in you, but instead you bask in the comfortable silence lingering the soft breeze while Jake drives to your next destination of the night.

He lets down your window so that the air can hit your face. He has the perfect view of your eyes fluttering close due to the comfort of how it feels against your skin. Your breath is hitched in your throat, in the most relaxing way ever. As Jake speeds up, you find his hand in yours in an almost reassuring manner; it’s as if he’s letting you know he won’t hurt you, as long as you don’t let him close enough.

Pushing all your anxious thoughts away for later, you decide to enjoy this moment with Jake and the milkshake in the hand that Jake wasn’t holding. It simply felt right to you, more right than anything ever did for a long time.

Jake takes you to a small hill that you both climb together, hand in hand since he says he’s worried that you’ll fall because of the dark which seems like an excuse that you don’t question.

You look at the view ahead of you; you’re encapsulated by it. It’s at a perfect position in the city, there's a perfect sight of all the enormous edifices lit by the hundreds of lights in each of their buildings and the moonlight hitting it square in the middle to only accentuate the beauty further. It takes your breath away so well that you forget Jake is pulling you to sit beside him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He says, softly to which you nod. “I don’t bring many here, even though you probably think I do. This is my place for when I feel anxious or something.”

You look at him, and see that not only are the enormous edifices benefitting from the light of the orb in the sky, but Jake is too. He looks mesmerising under the moonlight.

“That’s shocking, Jaeyun,” You remark. “Didn’t know you felt anxious.”

He nods, “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.”

You notice that it’s true, all you knew was that Jake was trouble and the small details he began to tell you in your Chemistry lessons. You were intrigued to learn more about him.

“Do you feel anxious right now?” You question.

Jake hesitates, “A bit.”

You nod, squeezing his hand to comfort him, but it was also for yourself. You needed to figure out the boundaries between you and Jake.

You don’t know how it happens, but you spend almost three hours sitting with Jake. Half of it was spent in silence, enjoying watching the city work ahead of you while the other half was spent learning small facts about one another.

A cursed yawn from you brings Jake’s attention away from the warm night and asks to take you home, much to your dismay.

He parks in front of your dorm, “It was a fun night, Y/n. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Oh, and you have to come to my soccer practice tomorrow.”

“I have to?” You giggle.

He nods, “It’s part of the negotiations.”

You hum in response, walking off into your dorm.

You expected yourself to be a mess as soon as Jake left, but for some reason, you slept better than you did in months as you anticipated the sight of Jake in a soccer jersey.

2. I GOT THIS ANXIOUS FEELING, BUT IT GOES AWAY FOR A MINUTE WHEN I’M WITH YOU BREATHING.

You’ve been at your desk for hours, a coffee placed somewhere in the clutter of it all, seven books are laid out in front of you and not a single one of them makes any sense. You’re starting to see shapes in the paint of your walls and that’s when you decide to head off to bed.

As soon as you reach the comfort of your bed, there’s a ring at the doorbell.

Groaning, you stomp to your door where you see Jake with his hood covering most of his face that’s staring at your cat slippers.

“Nice slippers,” He comments, to which you smell alcohol leaving his mouth.

“Thanks. What are you doing here? Have you been drinking?” You ask, pulling him into your dorm.

You watch as he takes off the hood of his sweater, revealing a scar on his lip along with a bruised up eye. Gasping, you move closer to him to assess the wounds on his face.

“How did this happen?” You ask as you rush to your cupboards for disinfectants.

Jake takes a seat at your counter and begins to explain, “Jay, Sunghoon and I were having some fun when this girl's boyfriend got mad that I dated his girl before him and started to fight me. You should see him, though.”

He lifts his arm to show how his knuckles are bruised up, to which you kiss your teeth at.

Rather than telling him about how maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t dated so many people, you focus on cleaning his wounds and treating them.

Jake winces when the disinfectant touches his cuts, but allows you to keep cleaning. You only put plasters on them since thankfully, none of the cuts are bad enough to stitch them.

His eyes start to wander along your face so he brings up a finger of his to trace along your features which he decides he’ll blame the alcohol on tomorrow morning.

Before you die of a heart attack, you pull away from his touch, and pass him two ice packs; one for his eye and another for his knuckles, you also lead him into your living room. where you simply stare at the marks on his face until he gets awkward.

“It’s not that bad,” he assures you, rubbing your knee.

“You might wanna tell that to your face.”

He giggles before wincing again and straightening the plaster on the corner of his lips.

You don’t ask him why he’s come to your place, but instead, you grab a blanket from your room and place it over him to make sure it’s known that he can stay here for the night.

As you’re about to leave and walk off to your bedroom, Jake grabs your wrist gently.

“Stay,” He pleads.

That’s all it takes for you to lay in his arms, with one of your hands reaching up to play with his brown locks, causing his eyes to flutter open and close and for his breathing to get heavier.

Just as he’s about to sleep, Jake inches forwards and presses his lips onto yours. The metallic taste of his blood mixes with your saliva, but it’s not enough to make you pull away from your kiss.

The kiss is deep, with both of you not wishing to pull away anytime soon. It leaves both of you breathless and you’re sure that Jake can now taste the cherry lip balm that you applied on your lips. The kiss makes you feel like you’re in the clouds and your head is filled with nothing but Jake.

It feels like years have passed when you both pull away from the kiss, panting and pressing foreheads together.

“Y/n,” Jake breaks the silence and you hum as a response. “There’s something about you that makes me want to change. Don’t leave me.”

It was definitely the alcohol coursing through his veins that urged him to say this. Seeing Jake vulnerable was oddly your favourite version of him, he was always so soft with you and that was the time when he was the most open. For some reason, he kept this side of himself closed off but you didn’t argue with being the only one who saw this side of him, even if it wasn’t frequent.

Clearly, that was the side of you that had become completely infatuated by him over the last few months. Honestly, every moment with him had changed you for the better.

He somehow was always able to bring those stress levels of yours down in every way he could; whether it was taking you on a drive with the wind and Jake taking your breath away, or coming over with ice cream. Or even just coming over to talk with you just helped.

You press a kiss to his cheek and wrap your arms around him to hug him tightly until you fall asleep in his arms that hold you close to his chest where you both felt a sense of security even if you knew he wouldn’t remember this in the morning and that by the time you woke up, there would be a blanket draped over your shoulders with no sight of Jake.

3. I CAN TASTE IT, MY HEART’S BREAKING.

“You ready?” Jake pops out of nowhere, creeping up on you while you're packing up to leave the suffocating Math class.

Before you can even get a word out, he’s helping you pack up by snatching all your things and hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Jaeyun! Give me my things,” You scold him.

He shakes his head, “No, you’re taking too long. You can pack up when we’re sitting on the bleachers on the soccer field!”

Shoot, you forgot he had soccer practice today. This new routine with him wasn’t easy getting used to. Especially, since his reminders were done by force rather than nice texts at the beginning of the day that would have definitely been more helpful and effective.

He still manages to have space to hold your hand with a few fingers, even with many of your belongings in his hands; but you noticed over the months that Sim Jaeyun enjoyed physical contact.

Now, you still had thoughts wondering if it was the vulnerable Sim Jaeyun that enjoyed always having a hold of you, or the generic one that was available to everyone. Either way, all you knew was that it made your heart run a thousand miles per second.

It was funny; you saw the eyes always watching your movements when Jake was with you. The envy was heavy in the air, but you never seemed to care. Everything else was unimportant when Jake was with you.

“When does practice end today? I have plans” You jokingly whine, to which Jake snaps his head towards you, displaying the small pout on his lips.

“It’ll end at 9, so you better cancel those plans.”

“What?! You’re practising for 6 hours?”

Now, Jake laughs, “No, we’re going on a date afterwards.”

Your ears perk up at this, “Where?”

“Not to worry for now, angel,” He presses a kiss on your cheek as he sits you down on the bleachers and returns your belongings while he makes way to the changing rooms.

Angel, angel, angel. All you can hear is the pet name he kept for you, echoing in your ears like a love song on repeat.

Seeing as Jake and his friends liked to take centuries to get changed in their jerseys, you decided to keep yourself busy whilst burying your nose into a book when more people started joining you on the bleachers - one in particular catching your eye and that being a girl named Choi Heejin. You knew of her, but not properly since she didn't go to the same school as you. You also knew that she was Jake’s longest plaything, hence why she had been sending you dirty looks as she took a seat.

Feigning no sense of fear, you watch Jake and his friends walk onto the court and the sound of Jake’s laugh rings through the almost empty field, bringing a smile to your face.

Jake runs over to you, handing you his bag. You watch him glance at Heejin, displaying a somewhat shocked expression which you could tell he was doing his best to conceal.

“Heejin, what are you doing here?”

“I came to watch, like old days,” Heejin smiles at him, her eyes radiating nothing but horrid intentions. Jake nods, taking in her words.

“Well, it definitely won't be like old times, since I have Y/n here with me.”

Jake innocently smiles at you, leaving a peck on your lips before running off back with the guys.

Contrary to what you said before, there certainly was something bothering you about the way this girl was staring at you, but after Jake’s act before, you felt a lot more at ease.

Unfortunately, you had hoped to forget her presence but it seemed that she just had to cheer every time Jake had scored or done something remotely rewarding.

This only just irked your temper, causing you to look at her with the dirtiest look you could muster up.

“Something wrong?” She drawls.

“Only the fact that you’re drooling over Jaeyun when he told you that there’s no chance of him getting back with you.”

She cackles, literally cackles, in your face, “Jaeyun, huh? I thought I was the only one who called him that.”

As much as you try not to show it, you’re sure she sees your face drop.

What on earth did she mean by that?

She only continues to stab you with her words, “Do you really think he means what he said? What, because he’s been with you for a few months? Are you two even dating yet?”

You don’t say anything; no you and Jake weren’t dating but that didn’t mean this wasn’t serious. Did it?

Pleased with the damage she’s done, she gets up and grabs her things, “Well, tell Jaeyun my number hasn’t changed. I’m sure he remembers it - he’s always been good with numbers.”

You stare ahead as she leaves and you can feel the tears brim your eyes as Jake makes his way over, her eyes repeating in your head over and over again. A feeling of sickness rose in your stomach, you felt stupid for even falling for Jake and thinking he would fall for you even in this time. After all, he had told you not to fall for him and here you were, two months away from Valentine’s day with your heart only full with him. It was insane that one could have this much of an effect on you; it was as if the air you breathed in was just Jake. Only Jake. Everything was about him, Sim Jaeyun, your Jaeyun.

But it wasn’t supposed to be, he specifically told you not to. Perhaps this was all part of his plan when he had chosen you for that stupid cupid draft.

You didn’t expect Jake to be running after you but as soon as he gets close enough, Jake immediately wraps his hand around your wrist to bring you to a halt and spins you around to look at him, “Y/n, stop.”

You’re panting when you stop, tears falling down your face uncontrollably that you’re sure are burning into your cheeks. Jake tries to pull you into his arms, but you reject this notion which definitely catches him by surprise judging by the way his eyebrows raise.

“She called you Jaeyun, you said I’m the only one who called you that.”

“Y/n, that was a very long time ago.”

As if that makes it any better. Millions of questions flow through your brain, all wondering almost the exact same thing and you question whether the thought has actually left your head since the day you felt some sort of adoration towards Sim Jaeyun: what am I to him?

So, there goes it.

“What am I to you?” The second the question leaves your mouth, all the strength that you had disappeared and turned into the nerve-wracking sick feeling reappearing in the pits of your stomach.

“I already told you a while ago, Y/n. This is nothing, we are nothing to one another” his words cut you deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. Deeper than Heejin’s only moments ago.

This was an unexplainable type of pain. Seeing Jake’s eyes look at you coldly, as if he’s disappointed at the fact that you’ve fallen for him just like everybody else. As if the time you’ve spent together has meant absolutely nothing. Then again, this was Sim Jaeyun you were talking about. Of course, none of it meant anything - all the things he said to make you feel special and loved were nothing to him. You were a fool for thinking otherwise even for a second.

The pair of you only stare at each other with every passing moment, looking at one another until you simply can’t recognise the person in front of you, which ultimately brings you to turning away from Sim Jaeyun forever.

4. I KNOW I’LL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, BABY. AND THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANNA DO. (JAKE POV)

There was something about the way conversations flowed so easily when I spoke to you. It always led to me wanting more, craving more. Half the time, I didn’t even notice what I was saying until it was too late. But still, there wasn’t the usual feeling of when one overshares. No. Instead, I had felt a strange comfort hug me like a warm, snug air wrapping its arms around me and telling me that everything was going to be alright.

It was odd and unfamiliar to the point where I would feel uncomfortable by all the foreign comfort. I had never felt something like that before.

Often, I would find myself sitting at the top of the hill late at night and staring at the busy city in an attempt to drag my mind away from you. Even so, my thoughts were being invaded by only you, it was so suffocating in the best way possible. All my attempts and not loving you were futile after years of pushing people away, all it took was a single lesson for you to draw my attention. And that was by far the scariest thing I had ever experienced in my entire life. It was enamoring; you were simply enamoring.

I thought it must have been the alcohol that possessed me to choose you for the Cupid Fantasy Draft, but by the end of the night, I came to realise that it was my heart speaking for me. For once, my heart had knocked my brain out of the way and took control but something about it had felt so right even though every single bone in my being was urging me to resist. This was the first time in a while that I felt as though everything was right as it should be. The Cupid Fantasy Draft was the perfect opportunity for me to win you, so I took that opportunity. It would be a lie if I said that I didn’t know how in love with you I would get, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had let it overcome me until it was the only thing I was consuming.

Until, the dreaded moments when you weren’t beside me and I convinced myself that this was going too far and for some reason, I was thankful for warning you about me. You didn’t deserve it, you were far too precious for the ruins of me. You deserve someone better and I was going to make sure it had happened, even if it broke me. Which it did.

Along the way, there were times where I needed you and only you. My heart began to ache when you were not near, the oxygen around me began to seem inefficient because I was not breathing the scent of whatever perfume you had on and for that, my lungs were poisoned by the fumes of an unimportant air, an air that didn't have anything to do with. I began to rely on you for my ultimate survival - I only felt alive with you near me, with your hand in mine. There was no part of me that cared how it looked, or that my persona was being thrown away, until it was too late.

For a while, I contemplated being selfish and letting you completely in. I wondered what it would be like to show the feelings I had for you and to let myself love you and only you. I almost began to convince myself, but it was for the better that I was not 100%. The small percentage of me that was reluctant had saved you from me in the end.

When I saw Heejin that day, it was like a blast from the past; a reality check. This wasn’t who I am, I wasn’t supposed to be with you. You shouldn’t be with someone who only hurts you. I knew Heejin wasn’t just a reminder to me, but to you, too - which was why I had let her stay that day at the soccer practice. It was an impulsive idea that turned out for the better. Although I don’t know what she said that day, I knew whatever caused you to run out the fields that day had done my job for me. Perhaps that was me being lazy, perhaps that was me taking the easy way out, but the good part was that it started off what was pulling you away from me.

I had never felt my heart ache so much after seeing the tears stream down your face, the ache only worsening as time went on and I couldn’t do anything to resolve it but rather, the things I was about to do were probably going to make it even worse. I’m sure it did; I didn’t expect it to be easy after all this time but I had to remain heartless and strong with this last moment.

Watching you walk away had to have been the hardest thing I had ever encountered; the feeling of emptiness being the only thing I could feel for days on end afterwards and rejecting human contact until I could feel something. I longed to see your lips turn upwards to smile widely at me, pulling me into an everlasting enchantment. I longed to be suffocated by your endless love. Wasn’t that strange?

5. CRYBABY.

The soft rain pattered against the window of the cafe that you were sitting at, Valentine’s Day decorations displayed all around the grand shop.

Everything was blooming with love along with the freshness of the spring air flowing through your nostrils, sending a rejuvenating chill down your body. With a smile, you rested your chin on your palm whilst awaiting your date to come and whisk you away.

The bells on the door caught your attention, making you spin around with a smile on your face and your eyes glistening with sparkles.

The excited look on your face only dims when you see the wide smile on his pink lips as he walks in. Your eyes immediately notice the new bright blond locks of his hair flattened against his forehead, and his dark brown orbs finally meeting yours.

Your mouth is open agape, as you stare at the boy at the door while he stares at you as well.

For a moment, you turn back around, as if to dismiss that shared moment with one another and ignore the way the world had paused for you two but the universe must have other plans since Jaeyun walks over to your table and takes a seat in front of you.

Although it's only been a few months, the feeling of being sat with one another is so unfamiliarly strange, until he cracks that smile, “How do you like my hair?”

“It suits you,” You say admiring the colour on him. “Why are you here, Jake?”

Ouch. His heart sinks, evidently since his smile falters.

“Jake, huh?” You swear you hear his voice break.

You almost laugh at him, “Well, I figured I should call you what your playthings called you, since I was one of them, after all.”

“Y/n-”

“Save it. There’s nothing left to say,” You shrug, taking your things. “I don’t know why you’re here, nor do I care. But, leave me alone.”

As you walk out of the shop, the bell announcing your departure, Jake follows after you.

“Y/n, let me explain!” He calls after you.

Your bag is slung over your head to stop the rain from hitting your face annoyingly until Jake drapes his hoodie over your head, revealing his bare arms from the white tee shirt he's wearing. Immediately, the smell of his cologne wafts through your nostrils, sending you in half a trance and halting your movements. In that moment, you’re back a few months ago when your entire being was enhanced by Sim Jaeyun.

“What is there left to say, Jake?” You scream into the rain. Jake stares at you, wondering if the droplets down your face are tears or the rain. Soon enough, he figures out that it's your tears, and there goes the stab feeling at his heart once more.

“I want this back,” Jake spits out. He runs a hand through his hair, catching his thoughts. “I can’t live without you. Every morning, I wake up to an empty feeling in my heart, the same feeling that I sleep with at night while I think only of you. You came into my life so suddenly, I didn’t realise how much I needed you. Well, I did, but I was so scared by it. When I found out you were going to be spending Valentine’s with someone else, I felt a part of me just.. break. I can’t do this without you. You have to believe me.”

Jake takes a step closer and takes your hand in his, awaiting your response to his serenade of love. It feels as though years have passed when you make a movement.

Pushing Jake's hand off yours, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

The earnest, pleading look in his eyes almost convinced you to stay, but you knew better. You knew better than to fall for this again. You didn't doubt that Jake’s feelings for you were genuine, but you definitely questioned if they would end up in flames again. That was a risk you weren’t willing to take.

Ultimately, you were wiser than your heart therefore, you chose not to fall into the dark abyss of Sim Jaeyun again. It was a choice laced with agony and heartburn but it was a necessary choice for the sake of your heart.

You hoped that, one day, when Jake was better for you, he would be brought back to you as someone you could build something with. But, now was not the time.

Jake watches you walk away for the second time, knowing this time it’s definitely the last time. Pools of tears start to leave his eyes as he clutches his heart. With every step you take away from him, a piece of his heart is carried with you and he wondered if these pieces will ever return to him.

He wondered how cupid could be this cruel and if he could ever get over the mistake that lost him you. He knew that cupid’s mistake was going to leave a permanent imprint on his entire being for the rest of his life, but he knew it far too late.

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jasmineoolongtea · 6 months ago

Text

i wish i hated you - geto suguru

"wish there was worse to you, i wish that you were worse to me"

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, lovers to exes, angst, hurt + comfort, hurt + no comfort, following the events of the hidden inventory arc, gojo and shoko appearance as well

summary: it's been a few weeks since your seemingly happy relationship with geto came to and end in the blink of an eye, leaving you reeling from the aftershock. now tasked with cleaning up your dorm for graduation, you're sent down an unfortunate trip down memory lane of your and suguru's relationship and end after his departure.

wc: 2.4k ish

a/n: inspired by i wish i hated you by ariana grande. even though i do like writing fluff, my true passion is actually angst, especially writing gut-wrenching angst to sad music. hope you guys enjoy this one and any likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <33

A clean breakup. No tears, no snot, no painful begging to rethink the other's actions or to fight for whatever was left of the relationship. "It was better this way." He said, "We're not like those other couples, we're better than that." All you could do was nod as the knot at the bottom of your throat began to constrict itself into a weight that felt like it was going to drag you down with it.

What if you weren't better than them, you would think to yourself late at night. It wasn't like you were asking for a massive breakup fight like one straight from the movies, screaming and crying at each other through a thunderstorm, broken plates being tossed around haphazardly with you two spitting venomous insults at each other. You just wish that at least it ended like it was something, rather than nothing but even in your dreams, all you can find yourself doing is repeating the mistakes of your past as you stand there frozen in place, watching as his silhouette fades into the foggy recesses of your mind.

No matter where you went, it felt like you were constantly haunted by his presence, or whatever remained of it at this point. Hell, even your room didn't feel like it belonged to you anymore. You were a temporary guest that drifted through its old walls that echoed the haunted past of happier days, where you would lay with Suguru under the blankets, whispering sweet nothings, until both of you fell asleep. Every single thing in that room had been touched by him, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, to the point where if you closed your eyes hard enough, you swear you could feel him hovering in front of you. In times like those, you foolishly reach out to see if you steal back a few seconds of happiness, to see if you can experience his touch for only a fleeting second but are only met with nothing but the cold, empty silence around you.

If it was up to you, you would take nothing from your room when the time came. Ideally, it would become a time capsule, perfectly preserved to the point where you could still see the shadows of a not-so-distant past dance across the walls once the sun had set. Maybe once in a while, you would find yourself there again, making your way towards the bed that barely smells like him anymore and curl up to the memories of days when you and him would plan your futures together.

"Suguru," he hums in response, his back towards you as you card your fingers through his raven locks from the mattress behind him. "What are your thoughts on getting a pet together?"

"I could see us getting a cat together in the future." He replies, leaning his head against the mattress. "Actually, I could see us doing a lot of things in future."

At his words, your attention was immediately peaked as you let go of his hair and rearranged yourself on the cramped bed to lay on your stomach, arms wrapping around his neck as you silently implored him to continue on. He smiles softly at your antics.

"I could see us moving out of this dorm and into our own apartment where we could bribe Satoru and Shoko to become our very own moving company." You giggle to yourself at the thought. Good for you guys that your friends were so transparent with their wants. "Maybe in a few years down the line, we might decide to take the next step and at our high school reunion we would show off our matching rings." You murmur a few words of approval at his vision of the future. You could see it, stretching your left hand out in front of you as you envision a delicate ring resting upon your ring finger, a constant reminder of the love between you two. His gaze lands upon your outstretched hand and reaches up to intertwine his fingers with yours. Suguru starts rubbing circles around your ring finger as if testing how it would feel to be met with the coolness of a metal band around it instead of just the softness of your skin. Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss against your interlaced hands that elicits a shy giggle from you.

"A few years more, we might even have kids." He says suddenly, looking off into the distance through your dorm window.

You raise an eyebrow at him, curious about where he was planning to go with his vision. "Oh yeah? How many?" You question. It wasn't like you were necessarily thinking about having kids when you were barely on the border of adulthood. However, if you ever were going to raise children with anyone, you think you would want it to be with Suguru.

"I think 2 would be nice. Both girls." It sounds like he's thought a lot about this, considering how resolute his response is. You choose not to comment on though, despite feeling your cheeks grow with warmth at the thought of him taking so much care to plan his future out with you down to a detail like this. Sensing that you were starting to get lost in thought, he gave your hand a slight nudge. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be nice." You respond back, leaning further forward to rest your head upon his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Suguru gives your cheek a soft kiss before standing up from his position on the floor. Your hands are still interlocked as he hovers above you, pointing towards you on your bed. He always does this. Ever since you guys started dating and even before this, he always asked for permission to enter your space. He does this with 3 knocks on your door when he wants to come into your room, a shy tap on your shoulder when he wants to pull you closer to him and a point towards your bed whenever he wants to clamber in with you. You've told him before that he doesn't need to do this. To you, your space is basically his space at this point and he's always a welcomed guest. He only brushes off your comment with a simple smile and a brief kiss against your lips and continues on with this habit. Even now, with everything that had transpired, you think you would still let him in no matter how long it was since he came knocking.

Using your grip on him, you pull him down onto the mattress with you, shuffling back to the point where your back is against the wall as he rests his head against the pillow. Suguru opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace which you gladly accept with your head now resting against his chest. His arms encircle your figure as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart lull you into a sense of security. In this room, between these papered walls, is a sanctuary that the two of you had carved out for each other with your bare hands. Though you had only known Suguru for 3 years and were only dating for 2 of those years, you don't think you could ever fall asleep or feel even as safe without hearing, feeling and sensing the steady drum of his heart right next to you.

You knew first-hand how draining the world of jujutsu and curses was, even more so for those who were first-grade or special-grade sorcerers, and so it always warmed your heart knowing that Suguru was comfortable enough to relax around you. You could physically see how his shoulders would sag with relief every time he saw you safe and sound and you let yourself believe that with every brush of his hair and every soft touch, you were pulling away all the tension and stress away from him. It wasn't enough as you would soon come to find out and maybe, it would have never been enough.

The memory is only temporary. Like all memories are really. Just a recollection of the past and its ensuing ghosts. Holding out for a second longer in this state of limbo between reality and your mind won't make the memory last longer. You know this, but it doesn't stop you from trying to squeeze your eyes shut just a bit tighter hoping that you might be able to grasp onto its tendrils for just a bit longer. Eventually, you give up on trying and get up from your curled-up position on the bed. The sheets are crumpled but there's only the indentation of you on its surface, the usual presence of the second one now long gone.

As you begin to undertake the arduous task of cleaning out your closet, it dawns on you how much stuff that was left behind by Suguru. Prior to this, you thought that it would be you and him spending a lazy afternoon here cleaning it out before you moved into your shared apartment, reminiscing on the glory of your high school days together. Hell, you even entertained the idea that Suguru might have ransacked the room for his belongings when he decided to up and leave that night. It would have spared you all this pain of dredging up old memories. You never thought that it would be you who was cleaning it up alone.

If this was a normal breakup, you would pack his things up into a tidy little box and ship it off to wherever he was in the world with a note wishing him the best for his future endeavours. Out of sight and out of mind, you would think to yourself as you did it. Or maybe if you were more the vengeful type, you would throw a match onto it and watch with a cheap can of beer from the convenience store, the ones that you would always complain tasted like nothing but foam, in hand as the flames burned away remnants of the past. You could even picture Shoko taking a sip with you as you two both sat in silence. But you could never do that. No matter how badly you wanted to, even if it was a small mercy you could have afforded yourself.

A lot of this would be easier if you would dare to take that more permanent step of trying to erase him from your life. It would be a lot easier if you could understand why he chose to do this, breaking up with you days before he went to that village. You thought you two were happy, at least on your end you were. You think about what you've heard about how he ended things with Satoru. Why did he have to be so good with you until the end? When you broke down crying on that day, he turned around in his step and sat with you on a bench while you melted into a blubbering mess. He didn't need to do that. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He wasn't even your friend anymore with how he worded his goodbye. "It's better for us if we don't talk after this." was what he said. Yet, despite all of that, he still remained with you, rubbing soothing circles on your back whilst you sobbed against his chest. The next thing you remember from that day was waking up in your bed, eyes red and swollen, a dry throat and tucked into your bed with a glass of water on your nightstand.

It's not like you haven't tried to be angry at him. You think back to a few days ago when you tried to destroy some of the origami cranes that Suguru folded for you and left on your desk. According to Shoko, she said that stuff like that could be "cathartic for the soul." though you're pretty sure she stole that quote from a poster advertising a rage room. When you asked him why he did that late one night, he was as cryptic as ever, only sending you a soft smile as he started to fold another one right after finishing the first. You later found out from Satoru that he was planning to fold a thousand of them as he wanted to wish for your happiness and safety, he only got to about 20 before he left. It only took ripping up the first one for you to immediately regret your actions. Whatever anger there was in you dissipated the second you saw the shredded and butchered remains of the crane in your hands. Apparently, when Satoru and Shoko came to check in on you, it was already sunrise and you were still sitting there at your desk, trying to glue together whatever was left of the paper at that point.

All emotions felt manufactured to you when it came to Suguru. If you couldn't be angry at him, then you thought that you could be annoyed but that was a failure as well when you realised that it was a fault of your own that you didn't speak up when you had the chance to voice your thoughts to him. Regret wasn't an option as well because if anyone would ask if you regret meeting Suguru then your answer would be a resounding no. You wouldn't trade your time with him for anything. Trying to be happy could never work when you felt like there was a gaping, empty hole in your chest from where someone had ripped out the Suguru-shaped piece that managed to worm its way into there. Every time you put on a smile, it's like a failed imitation of what one pictures a smile to be, making you out to be a fraud amongst the sea of people who were still intact.

In all honesty, all your problems would be solved if you hated Suguru Geto. Then, just maybe, there was a sliver of a chance that you wouldn't feel burdened by all this pain and yearning for what once was and what could have been. It would be easier if he was worse, but that could never be that because that wasn't who he was. He was someone who cared for those around him with every beat of his bleeding heart, too much if you asked those close to him to the point where he would try to shoulder the weight of their world tenfold. Just like how there could not be worse things about him, you could never hate Geto Suguru despite everything.

#dividers by plutism #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x you #jjk angst #‧₊˚ ⋅ 🍵 writes

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wrightingdungeon · 2 months ago

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Your harvey fics gives me serotonin ‼️‼️

Tbh I want to see more Harvey angst so is it okay to ask if you can do H - Heartbreak for Harvey ❓

Im so happy that i spark joy in your life!!!! Now, H is for heartbreak, hurt, and hands above your head, this is emotional robbery, put the feels in the bag and no one gets hurt!!!!

Warnings - Mentions of farmers death, angst

H - Heartbreak: Harvey is the oldest bachelor and a doctor, he has likely faced more than his fair share of challenges. He has been through countless heartbreaks in his personal life and career. He's endured the pain of watching relationships fall apart at his feet. Also facing the sorrow that comes with his profession, like the times he would stay up all night by a patient’s side, hoping they'd pull through, only to hear them flatline once he stepped away. And then, of course, there’s the dream he never realized—the ambition of becoming a pilot.

Even though Harvey has friends who are therapists, he can’t confide in them the way he wants to. The risk of blurring the lines between professional and personal relationships makes it complicated. So instead of reaching out, Harvey came up with his own way of dealing with it all.

His method? Bottle it all up. No, it's not healthy, and yes, he’s fully aware of that. But it’s a habit he's carried with him since the very first day he put on his white coat, hiding his pain behind a practiced smile. —

Harvey stood in his dimly lit kitchen, staring at the half-empty bottle of wine resting on the counter. It had been one of those days—no, one of those months. He’d just come back from a long shift at the clinic, and you were all he could think about. The person he thought would be his forever. You’d shared so many moments: the late-night conversations, the festivals, and those quiet mornings when he’d wake up to find you still beside him, the sunlight creeping through the windows making you glow. But now, you were gone, taken in an instant by a farming mishap that no one could have predicted.

The news of your passing had shattered Harvey. As a doctor, he had seen death countless times before, but it had always been something that happened to other people, and other families. This time, it was personal. He had been there, his hands trembling as he fought to get you breathing again, to bring you back. But there was nothing he could do. You were gone before he even had the chance to try.

You had been different. You’d been the one person he’d finally allowed himself to be vulnerable with, the one who had gently coaxed him into sharing the parts of himself that he had kept locked away for so long. Harvey had always been good at bottling things up, but with you, he had found the courage to let go, to talk about his fears, his disappointments, and the dreams he had given up on. And you had listened, truly listened to him, never judging, never pushing him away.

Now, with you gone, Harvey felt like he was back to where he started—maybe even worse. Because now he knew what it felt like to be understood, to be seen, and it made the loneliness so much sharper. It wasn’t just that he had lost you; he had lost the one person who knew him, the one person he could be himself with, his other half.

Sighing, he poured the rest of the wine and took a slow sip. Moving to his living room, eyes drifting to the dusty model airplanes that sat on his bookshelf. It was a reminder of a dream he’d had to let go of years ago.

The disappointment still lingered, mingling with the heartache of losing you. Being a doctor gave him purpose, but it also meant confronting failure—both his own and others'—every single day. Long hours, no time for relationships, and countless nights where he stayed up, alone, because his mind refused to be still. You had been his light, the one bright spot in his life that made it all seem worthwhile. And now you are gone.

Harvey needed to escape, to find a place where he could just be without the weight of everything pressing down on him. Grabbing his coat, he stepped outside and wandered into the forest at the edge of town, to a place he saved for when he needed to think. It was where he could truly be alone, where the noise of life seemed to fade away into the rustling leaves and the gentle sway of the trees.

The forest was dark, the canopy blocking out most of the moonlight, but Harvey knew the trails well, having learned them so he could go find you when you used to pass out while working late. He moved deeper into the woods until he reached the small clearing, surrounded by tall pines and a thick carpet of moss. He sat down on a fallen log, letting out a long breath as he looked up at the faint glimmers of stars peeking through the branches.

Harvey pushed his glasses up and buried his face in his hands, feeling the weight of everything settle on his shoulders. He thought about you, about how you’d been the one person he could talk to, the one person who had seen him at his lowest and still accepted him. He thought about the accident, about how powerless he felt, how he wasn’t able to save you, being a doctor had meant nothing at all in that moment. Each memory was a scar he carried, hidden beneath the surface, where no one else could see.

“Why couldn’t you stay?” he whispered to the empty clearing, his voice rough and trembling. There was no answer, of course. Just the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, as if the forest was listening but offering no solutions.

He leaned forward, gripping his knees, as memories came flooding back: the laughter you’d shared, the warmth of your hand in his, the way you’d look at him with those eyes that seemed to say, “It will all be ok.” And he had believed it, for the first time in his life, because you had made him feel like he didn’t have to be perfect, didn’t have to be the one who always had it all together.

But now, with you gone, Harvey felt lost again. The walls he had carefully dismantled piece by piece had come rushing back up, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to let anyone in again. No one would understand him the way you did. No one would ever see him like you had.

In the solitude of the forest, with no one watching, Harvey felt his defenses start to crumble. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small blue shell necklace he had been planning on giving to you, having been planning on asking you to marry him the day he lost you.

A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and soon he was crying—deep, racking sobs that echoed through the woods. All the pain, all the grief, all the years of bottling it up came pouring out. And for once, he didn’t try to stop it. He let himself feel every bit of the heartache, every bit of the loss. He cried for you, for the dreams he’d abandoned, for the patients he couldn’t save, and for the person he used to be.

As Harvey’s cries faded into the stillness around him, the weight of his grief began to settle into a dull ache, like a stone in his chest. As the tears flowed, he thought about how everything had changed so quickly.

Eventually, he took a shaky breath and looked down at the mermaid pendant, feeling its smooth surface against his fingertips. It had been a representation of the love and commitment he had wanted to offer. But now, it felt like a cruel reminder of what could have been.

Harvey stood up slowly, his legs shaky beneath him. The pendant felt heavier in his hand, a tangible connection to a future that would never come to pass. With a deep breath, he wiped his eyes dry, hoping to regain some semblance of composure, though the ache in his heart remained.

As he looked around the quiet forest, memories of laughter and shared secrets echoed in his mind. You had always loved this spot, often calling it your "sanctuary," a place where the weight of the world felt lighter.

He clutched the pendant tightly, feeling it dig into his palm. The thought of leaving it behind felt unbearable; it was a piece of you, a fragment of the life you had envisioned together. As he stood there, he realized he didn’t want to part with it. It was a token of the love that still filled his heart, a reminder of the beauty you had brought into his life.

Quietly and slowly, Harvey slid the pendant over his head, letting it rest against his chest. He felt an odd comfort in keeping it close as if it could somehow bridge the chasm of loss that separated him from you. “I’ll keep you with me,” he whispered, a promise to the silence around him.

The decision made, he took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree, his heart still heavy but now accompanied by a sense of resolve. The morning sun started to filter through the leaves, casting a similar warm glow onto his skin. As he walked, he felt the pendant gently thumping against his heart, a steady reminder that, yes, you were still with him.

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie x fem! reader [vol i, vol ii, vol iii, vol iv]

⚠️trigger warnings: mentions of a exual assault, accusations, mentions of domestic abuse, teenage drinking, panic attacks etc

w/c: 7.9k

a/n: s/o to all my favorite people helping me continuously with this series! @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington !! 💋💋💋💋💋

You’re spinning, spinning, spinning. If you couldn’t smell your own hair products on your pillow, you would swear that you were in a dystopian world, twirling like a frisbee through a pink blossomed sky and being caught in a three headed cat's mouth.

It’s true, hangovers get worse with age, but you were only twenty one— and they’re supposed to go up from here? What happened to ‘the best years of your life’? Whoever said that should be shot and killed on site. Stupid bastard.

Opening your eyes seems like the worst idea you could do, so you don’t. You slowly let your other senses bring you back to reality. You recognized that you were in your bed. Something soft is wrapped around you and judging by the feel of the fabric between your fingers it’s your robe.

A pungent smell of sour bile presents on your breath, one whiff of it and it’s instantaneous: vomit.

Fuck, that would explain the burning in your throat and the graveling dry sensation in your mouth

Pieces of the puzzle that was last night start fitting into place in your mind.

The drinks. The shots. The food. The clinking sound of ice in Steve’s Bloody Mary as he tipped it back and the ice swam towards his teeth, is like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh Christ how there had been so many drinks. Damn Robin and her mischievous ideas for wanting to do shots. Memories of the fiery tingle of the top shelf vodka Steve insisted on having, hitting your lips is enough to make you pass out.

The hollow feeling in your stomach gets queasy as you remember the greasy bar food served at Louie’s. Your stomach quenches, clutching around itself, ridding its salmon colored lining of the disastrous evening.

But nothing comes up. Just heaving dryly in your bed as tears escape your eyelids and your feet hit the floor. Throwing your body into a whirlwind of dizzy flips— your brain swimming in a sea of Diet Coke and Malibu, membranes bursting with the carbonated bubbles.

You’ve never needed a toothbrush more than you do right at this very second. You stand and the world feels like its raging war on your head. Pulsing and throbbing, like a concert was playing in your head and the guitar solo never ended.

You open your door and are met with the thought of how the fuck did you get here last night? Fuck it, you’d ask questions later, for now you needed to empty your bladder and brush your teeth.

As soon as you lay a hand on the bathroom door, Eddie emerges from his bedroom. Sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips and purpling hickies decorate his neck. He’s rubbing his eyes but when he catches sight of you he smiles lazily.

“Holy hell,” Eddie quips, eyes scanning over your body. You robe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, it’s crooked but the tie is in place covering your lower half. They land on the wild mess of hair atop your head, “normally I’d say good morning but it’s—“ he leans back into his room to look at his alarm clock, chuckling at the realization, “—two in the afternoon.”

You don’t fight Eddie for the shower, too tired and weak to argue. You fumble through the medicine cabinet finding the ibuprofen and the Disney cup with the swirly straw on the sink, filling it and taking the slick coated medicine. Swallowing harshly, your throat still raw and aching.

You settle for brushing your teeth while Eddie is in the shower. He’s singing Teen Spirit and getting louder and louder. The circles of the vigorous brushing of your teeth mixed with Eddie’s singing are making your head pound. A long look in the mirror leaves you suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if you needed to look drop dead gorgeous at every single minute you’re around him.

What the hell is going on?

“Please,” you beg, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink, “for the love of everything holy— stop.”

The screeching noise of the shower curtain rings being pulled back pull your head up as you see Eddie half naked, torso covered in soap and your loofah in his hand, the dripping curls on his head turned to long waves with the weight of the water.

“Don’t act like I don’t sing like an angel, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, “besides, lying is not good for your health.”

The suds are traveling south, further and further and further downward, your eye fixated on one particular bubble as it pops right at his belly button.

You train your eyes on his, your cheeks heat from your staring. You reach up and shut the curtain.

“I wasn’t saying you sound bad—I just feel like my head is going to implode.”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “want me to sing you a lullaby? I’d put your baby ass to sleep just like I did last night.”

A million different scenarios flood your mind of what happened last night.

Did you kiss him? You remembering staring at his lips, the soft pillowy pinks, the way his tongue peak—

Oh fuck.

Are the hickies on his neck from you? His Adam apple bobs as he swallowed.

Shit.

Did you sleep together? Blankets, over your head.

What the fuck?

Where are your pants? You can’t even remember what pants you were wearing.

Where’s your car? Did you drive home?

Did Eddie pick you up from the bar?

Did he see you puke? You faintly remember puking on the floor of the front seat of a vehicle.

Your head continues to spin as you sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat. Suddenly feeling violated and disgusting.

“Tooty?” Eddie’s voice rings out.

This time you’re the one throwing open the curtain. Ignoring him as he shields himself with your loofah and his arm. “Jesus Chr—!“

“How fucking dare you!”

“What?!”

“You fucking pig, how could you do that to me!”

“Do what!” Eddie yells back

Your tossing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at his naked body, he’s surprisingly agile, dodging every one.

“How could you sleep with me when I was that drunk?! Jesus Christ I can’t believe you! Why would you do that to me?!”

Tears well in your eyes, you can’t believe that someone you once trusted, and were getting used to trusting again, after only being able to confide in three people over the last five years, would do something so vile, so fucking awful.

“After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since I was a kid Eddie! I get drunk one time and you take it upon yourself to forc— “

“Tooty!” Eddie hollers, turning the water off to the shower and stepping around you out of the way to grab a towel, he wraps it around his waist and turns to face you again.

“I didn’t do anything to you.” His eyes are wild but filled with hurt, he lowers his voice, and backs away from you. “If you don’t believe me, call Harrington. I talked to him after I carried your drunk puking ass to your own bed last night!”

“Then where are my pants?! If you ‘didn’t do anything to me’ where are my pants at?!” Eddie heads into the kitchen and pulls the short overalls you were wearing off the back of a chair, still damp from the wash. He tosses them towards you and they land at your feet.

“I washed them because you barfed all over them and I thought you would appreciate them being cleaned instead of in a vomit covered ball on the bathroom floor!”

Your accusations sting his eyes, and burn his nose.

You blink rapidly and rack your brain, the blurry sight of Steve’s car covered in puke comes into view. You struggling to get your clothes off alone in the bathroom. One? Or maybe two girls yelling at him as his back is turned to you, Eddie’s honey dripped voice talking to you as you throw up into the toilet, cheek nestled against the seat. And finally, the feel of his chest on your cheek as he carries you to your room, arms and hands never touching you inappropriately.

Before you can apologize Eddie is thrusting the cordless phone into your palm, Steve’s voice faintly heard from the speaker. He turns with a huff and not another look towards you as he slams his bedroom door shaking the frame.

Shutting your bedroom door, Eddie hangs his head, his forehead and one palm on the door, a small smile gracing his lips. His head is spinning, he’s not drunk, in fact he only had one beer tonight, right before their set started.

What is this feeling inside of him? Butterflies in his stomach? Nah, that shit was juvenile. He could only pray that it was indigestion, nothing a couple gulps from a Pepto Bismol bottle couldn’t fix. But he couldn’t deny it.

The instinctual gut feeling of needing to protect you rang true all day. He was ready to fight everyone and anyone who talked ill of you. He just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt this protective of someone since his own mother. He didn’t even feel this way towards Chrissy, and they dated for almost a year.

He pulls his head from the door, wondering if he should have put you on your side so if you vomited in your sleep you wouldn’t choke. He shakes his head, removing his hand slowly down your door, letting his fingers hang to his side.

What is this? Why is he acting like a parent? He rubs his eyes and turns to go to bed, your wadded up overalls in his peripheral vision. Would it be weird? Him washing your clothes? It’s not like your panties were in here it was just the overalls. He could be a good guy, he could be a decent human being, for you— he’d be it all.

Stomping down the dingy, murky basement steps he quickly throws your overalls into the washing machine, adding way too much powdered Era but figuring it was better than having them stink like puke. Slamming the metal lid closed with a wonky bang, he trots back up the stairs.

Stomach grumbling and realizing the only thing he had to eat all day were the poptarts he packed for work, he opens the fridge. Inside sitting on a shelf is a fading spaghetti stained Tupperware, on the lid is a sticky note, and written in your beautiful loopy handwriting:

“Got off work early and made the Tater tot casserole. Warm it up in the microwave for a minute thirty, hope you had a good show tonight. -T ”

You didn’t always love when your clients canceled last minute, it meant money gone from your pocket and an annoying increasing anxiety building in your gut when bills showed up. But today, you could actually enjoy the sun's rays on your shoulders for a bit as you drove down the streets of Hawkins, stopping at Bradleys Big Buys to get a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Pushing the cart through the aisles you found the two items you came for, hoping to make it home early so that you could make the casserole before Eddie played tonight, or maybe he could enjoy it when he got home.

Cooking for someone was a labor of love, the simplest act of kindness anyone could offer. That’s what Karen Wheeler had taught you when she would spend her Saturday’s teaching you and Nancy how to cook good hearty meals that would last a while so you wouldn’t starve in college.

“And someone enjoying the food you cook? Girls, that’s the best feeling in the world.”

She wasn’t lying. Even that first week with the lasagna when Eddie had basically came in his pants with every bite, you felt a skip in your chest.

It was the least you could do after he gave you a sense of calm whenever he was around. You didn’t trust many people. Not after what happened. In fact Nancy, Steve and Robin were the only people you could put any sort of hope in.

After browning the ground beef with an chopped onion and mixing the canned ingredients together, you season the mixture with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. One last wipe around the bowl with your spatula and it was good to go. Spreading the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan and added shredded cheese, you line the tater tots across in horizontal rows and toss it in the oven, covering the dish with tinfoil.

Steve confirms everything that had happened. Even down to the minor details of you calling him ‘Steeb’. You feel stupid. Your stomach sank when he said that Eddie had stayed up all night making sure your overalls were clean and that you weren’t choking on your vomit.

“He’s a good dude, Tooty,” he explains, “he’s a perv and a complete douche most of the time, but he would never in a million years do that to someone, especially you.”

“…I know.”

“But do you?” Steve prods, “you said so yourself that he kinda looked out for you, almost better than your own brother did.”

“He did— but that’s just because I was with Chrissy’s brother and he was dating Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s a good guy— someone trustworthy. Make it right.”

With that Steve hung up.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like a big pile of shit for what you did. Eddie wouldn’t understand. How could he? You blatantly accused him of doing something that you know in your heart and in your soul that he never could have done. Tears drop from your eyes and into your palms. You allow yourself to cry, something you hated doing, for a few minutes. Angry with yourself for the wrong that you did, but also hurting from the past. When your eyes were puffy and snot was sliding from your nose, you call it quits. Fanning your face you realize you still haven’t taken a shower yet this morning.

Making your way to the bathroom, you turn your head towards Eddie door, Steve was right, you needed to fix this.

But how?

The shower was exactly what you needed. The scald from the water was helping ooze the booze from your pores as your dehydrated body soaked it up. Eddie didn’t deserve your harsh words, your accusatory statements, the way his face fell in horror when you screamed at him was burned into your memories, something you saw whenever your eyes were closed. You sit on the floor of the shower. You couldn’t tell him what was going on, you were stronger than that. You didn’t need his sympathy, his pity parade, you would get through this on your own just like you always had. You may have been wrong and and you should probably apologize but you dismiss the idea. What the hell does Steve Harrington know about it?

Eddie bangs on the door, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You holler out.

“Hurry up so we can go get your car before you accuse me of stealing that too.” His voice is angry and hurt. Finishing up in the shower you leave the bathroom to see an impatient Eddie huffing around the living room, looking at his empty wrist as if he wore a watch and throwing his hands in the air.

“Christ will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh fucking relax,” you pout, slamming your door and toweling off. You settle for a pair of denim shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When you reach for the comb to untangle your hair you hear obnoxious honking.

He wouldn’t.

Eddie is sitting in the van laying on the horn. Grabbing your ratty white keds you fly through the house, grabbing your purse and combing your hair as you fling yourself through the door. The pavement is hot on your feet, an exceptionally warm day for September. The hot sun and humid temperatures are the worst mix for a hangover.

Indian summer in full swing.

“Fuck I’m right here, knock it off!” He’s staring at you with dead eyes, hand planted on the horn until you slide your ass onto the cracked leather seat.

Without another word he throws the van in reverse and reaches a hand over to your headrest twisting his body, the cut off flannel he is wearing isn’t buttoned, the powdery musk of his deodorant burns your nose.

Nothing has changed with the old van, tape decks are still littered across the dash, stumped out in the cup holder are a mountain of cigarettes and joints. Too many pine scented Little Trees hanging from the rearview doing a horrible job of hiding the smell of weed. Judas Priest screams through the speakers. You place a foot on the dash to get your shoe on when suddenly you are lurching forward. Eddie taps the brakes.

“No feet on the dash.”

You set your face in a scowl, words bitter on your tongue, “yeah, cause my shoe is really going to hurt the value of this piece of shit. I’m just putting my fucking shoe on since some asshole with a small dick complex couldn’t wait five minutes.”

A mocking chuckle escapes Eddie’s throat, “you really are such a pleasure to be around, how did I get this lucky?.”

“And you’re such a prick,” you seethe, bending over and tying your shoe, “why did you even answer my ad in the paper? All we do is fight because you fucking hate me.”

He’s had enough, slamming his foot onto the pedal, Eddie turns towards you and spits, “Do you really think of me like that? A predator? Someone who would move in with you just to violate you the second you pass out?”

“No I—“

“All the years you’ve known me, you think I’d just up and turn into a fucking rapist?!”

“Jesus Christ Eddie!“

“No, I wanna know, right now,” he turns to you, eyes angry and filled with hurt, “do you get off on this shit? Treating people like they’re nothing? Automatically assuming the worst about someone because of where they grew up? I’m not like that Tooty, I’m not like my—“ he stops himself, pushing his tongue to his cheek, “you are not the girl I knew. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”

“The girl you knew was fourteen, Eddie! My biggest problem back then was wondering who I could convince to buy Boonesfarm for the weekend rager, shit changed. I changed! I had to adapt to shit that was way out of my control. And you don’t even know half of it!”

“You’re right, I don’t and I bet if I were to ask, you wouldn’t even tell me, so fuck it, where am I going?”

“What?”

“I can’t read your mind, where is your car parked?”

You tell him. And as soon as you pull alongside Louie’s and beside your car, you realize you don’t have the keys.

“Open the door. Get out.” Eddie spits in a condescending tone.

Looking at him and smiling, with an extra side of cunt you sing, “I don’t have my keys.”

“Of fucking course.”

Lighting up a cigarette and cranking the wheel Eddie flies through Hawkins. He misses the turn on Kerley to get back home. “Missed the turn,” you announce, putting your other shoe on.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs lips tight in a line and exhaling through his nose. “Groceries.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Eddie parks, taking up for spots, a tire in each one, before the van even stops moving he’s already out and slamming the door, flicking his cigarette across the parking lot. The heat of the day already high.

Finishing lacing up your other shoe you run across the parking lot to catch up to him. He already has a cart and is whizzing through the aisles before you finally see him. Reaching into your purse you unfold the list and take a look at it.

Dunakaroos

Twizzlers

Gobstoppers

Spaghetti o’s

Bologna

Mayo— NOT MIRACLE WHIP! And no it’s not for that.

Lotion, yes for that 😉

the soft bread, not the brown one.

Carton of reds

Case of Busch Light.

Sunny D

Red kool aid

Hot dogs

Cocoa Puffs

Sliced cheese

Baby food since you think I’m a child (just kidding, don’t be mad)

whatever chips you got with that salsa the one time

My milk— not that skim shit you drink

Your milk— the skim shit

Mac n Cheese

“What kind of a fucking list is this? Most of this shit is snacks.”

“Oh for fucks sake, what are you pissed about now?” Eddie says, dumping two bags of marshmallows into the cart.

You’ve never met a twenty-six year old that ate like he was dining at Willy Wonka’s Factory every night.

“Not a single fruit or vegetable!” You say, waving the list in his face.

“I smoke green, I don’t eat it. Unless you wanna make some pot brownies, I’d eat the shit out of those.” He throws a box of brownie mix into the cart for good measure.

You yank the cart from his hands and turn around, heading back to the produce aisle. He huffs when you place a paper bag of apples neatly in the cart, whines when the bananas sit by your purse, and almost passed out when the tomatoes and a head of lettuce make their way into the cart.

“You’re such a baby! Literally an overgrown man child in the flesh.” He’s walking in front of you mimicking you and whoops! The cart may have slipped out of your hands and made a fleeting dash towards his Achilles tendon, banging against.

“Ouch, Jesus Christ!” Eddie groans under his breath, holding his leg he glares towards you, shooting daggers.

“It slipped,” you smirk.

He scoffs and turns on his heel walking away. You finish in the produce aisle, looking through the boxes of noodles and calculating what you could make for dinner this week. Eddie comes back arms full, you only see his hair sticking out on each side of the three boxes of cereal, a 10 lb ham and seven tubes of cinnamon rolls. He drops them all into the cart with a heavy thud.

After crossing everything off the list and getting a few more things despite Eddie’s protesting exhales, you have a cart full. He seems to have calmed down by the time you make it to the beer fridge, taking two thirty packs of Busch Light and putting them on the bottom of the cart, he rips the side of one of them open and takes a can out. Cracking it open in the middle of the store, downing it. The light colored lager is spilling down his chin, into the collar of his open shirt. He tosses it into a lady’s cart as she’s walking past, wiping the foam from his lips and belching loudly.

You roll your eyes, “You can’t wait until we’re home?”

“What?” He says, looking at you with a stupid grin, “I’m gonna pay for it.”

Waiting in the checkout aisle he cracks another one as he unloads the groceries onto the conveyor belt with one hand. Tossing most of the items onto the belt and grabbing another beer and chugging it. The checkout lady puts her nose in the air and huffs a disapproving grunt.

“I was thirsty.”

“You’re so imp—” your insult is cut short when your eyes sweep over him.

It had been a full two years since you had seen him last. His blonde hair was combed to the side like it always was. The blue of his icy eyes still burned holes through you like dry ice to the exposed skin. The navy blue suit jacket and white Oxford shirt with a red patterned tie and the tan khakis he was wearing suggested he was coming from a late Sunday brunch after church. Awful crippling memories of spending hours ironing those pants to make sure the creases were perfect cloud your memory, you unconsciously hold the two fingers on your left hand, the ones that held misshaped triangle burn scars.

You don’t realize that Eddie is talking or that you’ve stopped moving until the shape of his curly head shakes in front of you. Your breath is hitched in your chest, you feel small. Physically and mentally.

Two years without seeing the face that was the sole purpose of most of the fear in your life. Two years without seeing the demon grin and crazy twitch in his eye. You were frozen in place and your blood ran cold.

It was evil in its truest form. Standing in the checkout behind you— stood Chad Cunningham.

Eddie couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on. Putting the grocery sacks in the cart, he turns to look in your line of vision. He doesn’t recognize him at first. But the strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes ran in the Cunningham blood. He was with a woman, who was so obviously pregnant she seemed like she was about to burst. Judging from the horrific way your eyes were bulged out of your head and the way your body was almost catatonic, Eddie figured it was time to get the fuck out of here. Reaching in his pocket for his wallet he paid the cashier and impatiently waited for the change, keeping his eyes on you.

You were trembling with fear. Not from the sudden run in with an ex but something much deeper than that. Eddie places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “let’s go sweetheart,” he whispers gently, he crowds behind you and puts a small hand on your back, guiding you forward towards the automatic doors. Eddie keeps his head on a swivel for Chad.

The woman who was with him was waddling towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving your body. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Chad puffed out his chest and said, “Lookin’ good honey bun, I will say though, the downgrade,” he points to Eddie, “..yikes.”

The nickname made your skin crawl. You never liked it, and he knew that. He only said it to get a rise out of you, which was successful. “See you soon,” he gloated, smiling with perfectly straight teeth, eyes never meeting his smile.

You don’t make it five feet outside before the shock wears off and the tears stream down your face in salty waves. Eddie takes control of the cart with his left hand and ushers you forward with his right, minimal pressure on the small of your back as he keeps his head on a swivel, dark curtain of curls crowding his eyes as he moves his head around.

Unlocking the doors he helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and saying he’d be back in thirty seconds. The back doors of the van fly open as Eddie all but tosses the groceries into the back. At thirty seconds exactly, Eddie is back in the van, starting it and roaring out of the parking lot.

He still didn’t know what happened with Chad, but it wouldn’t take an absolute idiot to know that it was bad. Really fucking bad. He looks over to you and your head is stuffed into your shirt, your knees under your chin and you’re rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Five minutes, Tooty— we’ll be home in less than five minutes, okay?” Eddie says, frantically. He’s trying to stay calm. Trying to be the voice of reason, composed and serene. But he is horrified. Scared to death at how you responded to seeing Chad. How your body froze up and your face looked as if you weren’t breathing. Even now, hearing you gasp for air as your body shook and swayed with each turn he made. He slams on the gas, pausing slightly at stop signs and ignoring any yield signs.

He parks in the driveway, coming around to help you out of the van. Just like he did last night, he carries you, only this time you remember it. Your body is shaking violently, chest racked with sobs. His chest is wet with tears from your face being buried into it. He’s whispering to you that everything will be okay. Opening the door he kicks it shut with his boot. He brings you into your room and sits you on your bed, you’re cradled in his lap, like a parent would hold a child. He caresses your head, holding you closer to him. His warm breath in your hair grounds you. You feel him lean forward grabbing on your nightstand for something, the phone.

He dials the number without even thinking. Waiting impatiently on the other end as a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?” Steve breathes boredly into the phone.

Eddie sighs with relief, “Harrington, it’s me.”

“Oh God, listen dude I don’t know what to te—“

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie interrupts, “listen—something, happened.”

Steve almost chokes on his popcorn, frantically firing off questions. “What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“Ye—no, I mean—“ Eddie is stuttering and trying to explain, “we ran into Chad at the gro—“

“I’m on my way!”

The line goes dead and Eddie hears dial tone. He sets the phone back in the holder and wraps a blanket around you. Your heart is racing and you can’t even form words. You haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. It feels like the world is crashing in on you, the walls are tight and shrinking, the whole room feels smaller by the minute. Eddie’s voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” He murmurs, “try to match your breathing with mine.” He remembers what he was taught as a kid. His emotions always ran high and Wayne would have to settle him down, get him to take deep breaths.

He’s rubbing soft circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth. You try to speak but all that comes out are gasps and the whirling noise of sharp intake of breath.

Steve and Robin make it to the house in record time, running to your room and taking everything in. Your disheveled appearance brings Steve to his knees in front of Eddie. Grabbing your hand and squeezing letting you know it was going to be okay.

You slide off Eddie’s lap and lay on the bed, curled in a ball. Robin lays beside you. Brushing your hair from your face with her fingers.

Steve pulls Eddie out of your room with great force he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry— fuck man, I’m sorry for calling you — I just— she just locked up. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t move!” He runs his hands down his face, trying to will the tears away. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, give yourself a break, you got her home, she’s safe,” Steve says patting Eddie on the back, “so explain what happened.”

Eddie begins explaining from when you both got to the grocery store. He goes into detail how distraught you seemed, how your body was rigid and full of fear. The burn of tears threatening to spill from his eyes has him blinking quick before they fall. Steve listens intently, face warped with shock and disbelief.

Throwing his head back and running his hands down his face Steve lets out a loud exhale and throws his hands on his hips, “fuck I hate that guy.”

“Yeah he seems like a fucking psycho,” Eddie agrees, “but what the fuck is going on?! I mean yeah they dated but, I don’t stiff up like that when I run into Chrissy or Trish.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks of how upset you were, your body crumbling with fear the minute you made it into the van. Anxiety trickling through your body like electricity to a wire. He hated to admit it but he was scared for you.

Remembering the groceries in the back of the van, the two guys brave the sweltering heat to retrieve them. Eddie starts to put the items away, Steve rolls his eyes watching him put the canned items in the small cabinet designed for spices, the endless snacks he purchased thrown on the counter nestled up against the flour canister and slamming the lettuce into the fridge like a bowling ball.

Eddie could give a rats ass where the things went, he was worried and getting a headache from wondering if you were going to be okay. Half thinking he should find where good ol Chad lived and pay him a nice little visit. Only three tires slashed and the insurance won’t cover it.

Throwing the groceries sacks in the garbage and making his way to the living room, sitting down on the couch, he sits with his elbows on his knees, bouncing them in quick repetitions. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or should I put a paper fortune teller on my fingers and we can decide what’s wrong with Tooty with the help of crayola markers?”

The wailing cries and sobs have dissipated in the last half hour, only Robin’s soothing words can be heard now.

“Dude, it’s not my place to say,” Steve says, “it’s one thing to tell you about her parents and Kevin, but this—“ he takes another deep breath, running his hands through his thick tufts of hair, “this is 100 times worse than that,” Steve explains lowering his head.

“…But you’re right, you’re her roommate and you should know what happened.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, silently agreeing with everything Steve had said. Standing quickly and pacing around the living room, his mind is running a million miles a minute. The fight you two had didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered to him in this moment— the only thing on his mind for the past twelve hours— was you.

Steve stands and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his hands on the waist of the old fading green gym shorts he was wearing. “I’m gonna go talk to her, and when you guys are done, I’m gonna make you guys something to eat. I’m sure you idiots haven’t eaten today given the timing of when shit hit the fan.”

Eddie nods again, biting the fingernails on his right hand until they bled, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a teen, facing possible jail time for destructing private property when he spray painted, “Your mom swallowed EM’s monster cock” on the front doors of Hawkins High. He was pacing, itching for a cigarette. Pulling the pack from his flannel breast pocket he goes outside and sits on the concrete steps, lighting up.

Three squashed cigarette butts sit next to him on the step before Steve finds him. Eddie stands and stubs the cigarette out blowing smoke out of the crooked twist of his lips away from Steve’s face. The nicotine helped take the edge off but he was still anxious, fidgeting his rings.

“H-how is she?” Eddie asks apprehensively, “can I talk to her?”

“She’s better, taking deep breaths and relaxing as best as he can, she’s gonna explain everything, just give her space— let her talk and don’t ask anything until she’s finished.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.”

“Alright. Robin is gonna help me make supper,” Steve says holding opening the front door, face in a grimace he jokes, “wish me luck.”

Eddie was the one who thought he himself needed the luck, he was scared shitless that you were afraid of him.

He walks gently to your room and knocks softly on the door with one knuckle, palm facing him. He remembers just hours ago how he was standing at this very door, and how very different he felt then.

“Come in,” Robin chirps.

Eddie takes a quick breath holding it as he steps foot into your room. You’re sitting on your bed cross legged, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes are red rimmed and tissues surrounding you, a cemetery of drying tears. You look at him and muster a smile, a twitch of your lips raising at the corners.

“Well, I’m needed as a sous chef in kitchen a la Harrington,” Robin says brightly, standing from the bed and skipping towards the door. When she passes Eddie she touches his arm squeezing and giving him a reassuring nod.

Eddie stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the door clicks shut. You both don’t say anything for a while, you’re twirling the end of the pillowcase in your lap and he’s burning holes with his eyes into the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you say quietly, “I’m—“ your voice catches in your throat, sore from the the wailing, “I’m hoping that when I’m done telling you, you’ll be able to understand..”

He nods and leans against the wall. Hands wrapped around his triceps.

“Before I explain— I just need you to know that only Robin, Steve, Nancy, and her parents know about this— not my parents, or Kev or anyone else— and now you.

Eddie’s face is full of concern, he whispers an “okay,” and you continue.

“I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure that you and Chrissy started dating around the same time that Chad and I did, and as you remember I’m sure, Chad and I were together almost all the time. When you graduated, and my sophomore year was the year my parents moved away— things changed with him. He was suddenly callous about everything, needing control of who I was with and when. Mostly he was pissed that I was staying with the Wheeler’s. He always thought I was cheating on him with Mike.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, the Mike Wheeler he knew wouldn’t know what to do if a chick laid butt naked in his bed. Probably piss himself.

You work the corner of the pillow case in your fingers as you keep going, “The first time he hit me was on a night that I told him I couldn’t hang out because Mrs. Wheeler wanted everyone home for supper. He called me a slut and told me that I should just go and fuck Mike already even though he knew I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker with anger when you admit that Chad hit you, his fists clenched together tightly. With your head down and looking away from him you continue, your voice wobbly.

“We didn’t even have sex yet, at that time, I wasn’t ready. After he hit me, I thought we should break up. He followed me around, begging me to take him back and like the naive kid that I was, I did. He would be sweet for a few weeks, and then it was like a flip would switch and he’d back hand me for giving Lucas a pencil during History, pulled my hair out in chunks when Mike brought me to school, he even choked me until I passed out when Dustin sat next to me at lunch. He was extremely jealous of everyone around him, and couldn’t handle seeing anyone he didn’t ‘approve of’ be near me. He hated that I worked at Family Video, he would show up almost every shift and wait in the store for me to clock out, even threatening to kick Steve’s ass on more than one occasion. He finally gave up on that when I told him Steve was dating Robin, just so I could go to work in peace.”

Eddie’s gut is rolling, the anger boiling in his blood, his nostrils are flared, it is taking everything in him to not react the way he wants to, a simple trailer park style beating to Chad’s car, his face, whatever would hurt the little prick more. Heads would fucking roll if Eddie ever got ahold of him.

“It didn’t end there. Like I said, we weren’t having sex because I wasn’t ready, I had enough shit going on with my parents up and leaving and buying all the concealer that Melvald’s carried to cover up the bruises.”

You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears for as long as you could. Chewing the inside of your lip and un crossing your legs, bringing your knees to your chest you continue.

“Af—After prom our junior year, we were driving around and he was drinking, I just wanted to go home but he didn’t. He parked way outside of town on the south side, on some dead end road… I mouthed off to him about how cliche it was to lose our virginities on prom night and the next thing I knew,” your voice pitches to a high volume, your lips are tight as you remember the pain you felt in your head from him knocking you out, the way his hands were groping your body, “I was waking up to him on top of me, and inside of me.”

The dam breaks, the tears fall from your eyes like rain in the spring time. You throw your head back against your headboard and sniff loudly, your palms pressed to your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid if he tried to comfort you it would only cause you more pain. Against his better judgment he stands and walks towards the bed, scooting across the lavender bedspread he sits across from you, reaching for your ankle and tenderly squeezing it, letting you know that he was there.

“I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life then when I was dating him,” you sniffle and reach for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly, “Eddie, this went on for years, it didn’t fucking stop. After senior year, he didn’t want me to go to college, because I would be too far away from him, and we argued and he kicked me out on the opposite side of town with two swelling black eyes. By the time I made it back to the Wheeler’s, my eyes were almost shut. That night, I told Ted and a very hysterical, Karen everything, and they called the cops. Of course, Tim Cunningham was the state prosecutor at the time, so it didn’t go far— Hop did what he could but there was never any judgment made against Chad, and everything was over after that.”

“I went to beauty school with Nance, and when we moved back home, I was living in the little apartments off of Sawmill Road, he found out where I was and broke in, luckily Steve and Robin were my neighbors so they heard everything and came running before he could hurt me.

“After that.. Ted and Karen bought this place for Nancy and I and last year I saved up enough and bought it from them. Last I heard, Chad had moved to Indianapolis and was working for his uncle at the law firm until he finished school. I haven’t seen him in over two years— anyway,” you finish, wiping your eyes, and blowing your nose once more, “that’s the story.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to begin, he partially is taking the blame for what happened to you, knowing that if he were there, if he had stuck it out with Chrissy maybe he could have seen the signs, maybe he could have stopped it before it ever started, maybe he could have put that little fucker in his place and made him think twice about ever touching you again. He’s full of regret, full of shame and turmoil as he thinks about how you must have been feeling this morning.

“Oh, Tooty.” Eddie starts his eyes glistening with wetness, heart aching for you, “I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ, I— I don’t even… Fuck! I should have been around.”

“There wasn’t anything anyone could have done— he’s a lunatic.” You take a breath and look down at his hand on your ankle, abandoning the thought of reaching for it at the last minute, “I know you would never do something to hurt me, or anyone— I’m sorry about last night Eddie. I just, I don’t ever get drunk enough to not remember what happened. Not after the shit I’ve been through. ” You fold your arms into your self, wrapping around your ribs, in a small voice you whisper, “and today when I couldn’t remember, I was fucking terrified—going right back to how I felt that night when I was sixteen.”

In the van today, he fully intended on chewing you out, making you feel about three inches tall. He had been accused of many different things during his teenage years. Hell he even spent a night or two in jail after fighting a guy in Indianapolis when he threw a beer at Gareth. But one thing Wayne taught him was to respect women. Sure he wasn’t the average guy, his lever leaned a little further towards pervert than most. But he would never hurt a woman. The way you looked right now scared him. Like you were afraid to be near him. Unsure if he would scream at you or worse. And it broke his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward, finger dipping under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking right at him. A fresh brim of tears clung to your lashes, “as long as I’m here, being the thorn in your side, pain in the ass, good looking mother fucker that I am— you don’t ever have to be scared again.”

You shutter, body exhausted and giving in, letting the tears fall.

“Promise?”

Your doe eyes are wet and staring into his, the swirling chocolate of his eyes, melted as he looks into your soul. Shedding any walls around his heart, baring himself of his discretions, his eyes are deeper than the galaxy. You swear you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. You can feel your frigid heart thawing for the first time in years.

“Always.”

You never thought a single word could have so much meaning, a sense of security washed over you with Eddie’s promising word. A silent devotion from his eyes of keeping you safe and out of harm's way. You felt your soul open up to him. A higher power bringing you closer to him. You reach down and grab his hand. Rubbing the rough knuckles and tracing the rings on his fingers. An angel’s smile dances on Eddie’s lips. He decides right there, in that moment, that he would be whatever you needed. For as long as you needed him. Because he needed you.

///

SEE YOU IN VOLUME VI

a/n: hope you enjoyed this, it was a little rough but the next chapter is pure fluff 💋

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #honey i’m home

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inbloomwriting · 1 year ago

Text

a calm surrender II Roy Kent

Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.

Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you"

Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half

She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.

Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.

And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.

He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.

No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.

It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.

It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.

The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.

The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”

There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).

“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”

“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”

She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.

“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”

“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”

That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.

“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”

Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.

“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”

She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”

He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.

He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.

“Jesus. Let me just — “

Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.

“I really appreciate it, Roy.”

And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.

Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.

“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”

“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.

He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”

A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.

“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”

“I didn’t look sketchy.”

“You looked a little sketchy.”

Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.

“You look beautiful.”

The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.

“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”

In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”

She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin. He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.

“You’re a strange woman”

“Strange or smart?”

Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.

“Bit of both.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.

And — Elton John?

“Oh, I love that song!”

A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.

“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “

“No, fuck off!”

Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.

Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so. She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.

“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”

Roy scoffs “Figures.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her. With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.

He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.

“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”

“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”

He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.

“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“

She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “

“I have a 6-year-old niece.”

Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.

Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”

“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”

He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”

He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.

Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.

A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.

“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”

He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.

Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.

I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway

The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”

It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.

Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.

It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.

Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.

Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.

“Roy?”

“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.

The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.

There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.

“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”

“Don’t let Sam hear.”

“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”

Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.

“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”

Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Came to get my jacket back.”

Absolute dumbass.

“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”

She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.

“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”

This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.

“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”

“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."

“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”

Roy just scoffs in response.

Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.

“You want a top-up?”

“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”

He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.

“Did you walk here?”

“Mmh.”

“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”

Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”

The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.

“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”

“Fuck no”

Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”

“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”

She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”

The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.

“That’s fine.”

“He snores, just thought you should know.”

“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”

Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.

She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.

“Hey Roy,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”

The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Roy.”

He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.

It looks good on you & I like your laugh

He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.

Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.

Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.

“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.

“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”

Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.

“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”

He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.

“And can you feel the love tonight How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?

“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.

This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.

“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”

“No, god no.”

“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”

When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.

“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”

“It looks good on you.”

It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.

“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”

That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.

“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”

“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.

Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.

“Roy Kent, you won today.”

Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —

A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.

“Fucks sake.”

In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “

“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.

Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.

“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”

“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”

Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.

He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.

Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out

Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.

And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.

Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.

But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.

If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?

"Roy?"

“Jesus, fuck!”

There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.

He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.

But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.

— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”

Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.

“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”

He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.

“I work here.”

“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”

“I try.”

Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.

“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”

“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”

She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”

“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”

“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”

Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.

“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”

We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.

It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.

“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”

“Football is all I have.”

“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”

She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”

She is. He adores it.

“Oh, but you like it — right?”

“What?”

“You do — like it? Like me?”

It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.

“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”

He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.

Almost.

That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.

“Ah shit, I gotta go.”

“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”

“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”

He’s not convinced.

“What about the storm?”

“I think the rain stopped, listen.”

Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.

“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”

“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”

His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.

You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?

This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.

The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”

“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”

I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.

“Get out, (Y/N).”

She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.

Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.

“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”

He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.

Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.

“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”

It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.

A green light guiding him to safe shores.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”

Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow

Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.

Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.

It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Royoooo.”

Oh. Oh!

A smirk pulls at his lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”

“Right.”

"So, yeah."

“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”

“It’s handsome, innit?”

“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”

Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.

“Where are you?”

“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”

“Go on and cancel that Uber.”

“Then how am I going to get home?”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”

And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.

“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”

“Who could’ve guessed.”

She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”

“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”

She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”

She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.

“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”

He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.

“Do I need to show you to believe me?”

She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”

She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.

“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Mh.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.

I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway

“Roy?”

Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.

“Why is there a small child looking at me?”

“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”

“She’s so pretty.”

She has a point.

10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.

“Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy.”

Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.

Sometimes life is fucking sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”

(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.

“Remember what you said?”

“Do you?”

“You promised me something, Roy.”

Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.

It’s only right to keep this one too.

“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”

The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.

Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.

Only —

“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”

There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.

Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.

It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.

“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The eggs are burning.”

“Fuck!”

“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”

Irritating! Both of them.

They’re his whole entire heart.

I love you & I love you

“I love you.”

It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, what?”

She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.

“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”

Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.

“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Can’t hurt to say it again.

“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”

Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.

How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x f!reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #inbloomwriting

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happiest-hotch · 2 years ago

Text

Midnight

Summary: You definitely should not be in your married boss's office, but you're not unhappy about it based on: Hotch and the reader fucking in his office late at night after a case. (Both of their marriages are failing) Yet that doesn’t excuse the fact that hes railing you over his desk any papers that where on the desk is now on the floor and subtle creeking can be heard down the hall in the empty BAU floor

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warning: mutual cheating, SMUT 18+ (rough-ish p-in-v)

This is not where you should be.

On a Thursday night at 11:30, after coming back from a five-day-long case where you only slept a few hours a night with all your reports done, you should be at home.

There's only one reason why you're still at the BAU, and that reason just walked into his office.

"Does he know you're here?" Aaron asks, barely looking at you as he throws his briefcase on his desk chair. He locks the door, so he definitely knows why you're there.

"Are we going to do that, Aaron?" You ask nonchalantly, uncrossing your legs.

It doesn't bother you any more to discuss the reality of your relationship. Aaron, however, doesn't share the same sentiment. Talking about Haley upsets him, and mentions of your husband are hostile or intended to hurt you.

He has complicated feelings about it. He knows his wife cheats on him every chance she gets- emotionally and physically- yet he still feels bad for going behind her back, even though it's only physical stress relief. Although maybe there is an emotional connection... as bad as it sounds, you elect not to inquire about his feelings every single time.

"No." He decides, running his hand through his hair. He'll bring it up again, though, you know it. You've been doing this for too long not to be able to read him like a book.

"Good." You smile, preferring when he's not argumentative since he was a prosecutor. "Because I wanted to tell you that your shirt looks nice."

He scoffs, looking down at his attire. "It's a dark blue shirt." He says dumbly.

"I know, but it makes your eyes look pretty." You explain to him.

"But my eyes are brown." He says in the same confused tone.

It's no secret that he's terrible at taking compliments- you're guessing it's not a common occurrence- so you give him them just for his amusing reaction... and because it probably makes him feel good. "I know that, too. I just think blue suits you."

He dips his head, but you can still see his smile. "Thanks."

"Ready then?" You ask, standing up and stepping out from behind the desk.

"Don't do that." He requests softly. You know what he means, but you frown, feigning innocence. "Act like this is just... sex."

God, sometimes he is so emotional. "Take your pants off." You instruct.

Thankfully, his chattiness has calmed down, and he follows your instructions, putting his gun in his gun safe and undoing his belt while you pull your top off.

You're getting started on your skirt when he stops you, placing his hands on your hips. "Wait, wait."

"For what?" You ask, letting him maneuver you.

"You just look hot in pencil skirts." He admits with a smirk as he checks you out, and there's no bigger confidence booster than that.

You grin, noticing an obvious sign of his arousal. "Unfortunately, too tight for you to fuck me in."

"It's too tight for that, but it is not too tight in general." He assures you with a wink.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. You feel much worse when his lips taste like strawberry lip balm, but they don't today. They feel soft, molding with yours so perfectly you can't imagine kissing anyone else. Those glorious big palms of his travel to your ass, expectedly, and he squeezes until you're moaning into his mouth.

His pupils are darker when you pull back to get some air. "Fuck me, Aaron." You say, your legs too weak for him already for it to be a demand but feeling too intense for it to be a request.

"How do you want it, doll?" He asks. "On my lap, sitting on my desk, or bent over my desk?"

"The latter." You respond, overclouded with lust.

That cocky look takes over his face again. "Want it rough, huh?" He asks smugly, not waiting for verbal confirmation before tightening his grip on your hips, spinning you around, and all but throwing you onto the desk. You prop yourself up with your hands, pushing some of the paperwork on his desk aside.

You press your ass back into his crouch when you feel him behind you, and he groans before stopping you so he can yank your skirt down your legs. Your panties are off a second later, which you've learned not to step out of, knowing he'll snatch them.

Then his hands are off you, and you feel a little empty without them, so you take your bra off and look over your shoulder at what he's doing.

He's so attractive. Even without his shirt taken off, you can see his bulging muscles, and his hand wrapped around his dick makes it look delicious.

"Aaron, hurry up." You insist impatiently.

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?" He asks arrogantly. "I told you you're not allowed to think about anyone-" He punctuates the word by running his finger through your folds- "else while we're doing this."

His touch melts you in a second. "I'm not. I promise."

"I'll make damn sure of that, doll." He vows, and you're not prepared for it, but he lines himself up and pushes his dick into you.

"Aaron." You whimper, tucking your chin down. "Feels so good."

He nods in agreement. "Mm-hmm." He agrees, stilling inside you.

It feels wrong to have him inside you raw. It's probably the only thing about this whole thing that feels wrong, but knowing you're meant to be squeezing your husband's dick like this, and his wife is meant to have him inside her without a barrier, makes it immoral.

"Move, please." You request, leaning back to tap him to emphasize your ask.

Aaron does what you ask, also not in the mood to tease tonight. It's less common than him teasing you, and it's hard not to prefer it when he's thrusting in and out of you with speed and strength.

Your fits grip on his desk as he continues pounding into you, the obscene sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room.

He's in total control, like always. It's second nature to him and you don't mind one bit.

"Fuck." You curse when he adjusts his hips and hits inside you at the perfect angle. It's dizzying, and it makes everything inside you feel like it's on fire.

"Yeah? Am I giving you what you want?" He presses, a sucker for praise as well. Your answer comes out through broken moans. "Not thinking about anyone else?"

You shake your head quickly. "No. No one but you."

His grip on your hips is bruising, and you're thankful there's no one to notice them. "Good." He huffs, no doubt throwing his head back as he groans.

"I'm c-close." You moan, squeezing around him and grinding back against him as you chase your orgasm.

"I know." He assures you. "Come around me, doll." His fingers move to your clit to get you closer even quicker, and it doesn't take more than a few more strokes for you to be screaming out his name as you reach your high.

Aaron's quickly after you, pumping his cum deep inside you and making you moan. He falls forward, kissing your bare shoulder sweetly. A mistake? Yes. Do you like it? Yes.

He pulls out after a moment, making you wince at the overstimulation. "I know, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, assuring him it's okay and standing up as he moves from behind you. You're always quick to redress, even though it's so late that it's closer to people arriving in the morning than when people left at night.

"Sorry about your desk." You remark, looking at the paperwork everywhere.

He's working on the buckle of his belt as he looks up at you. "It's okay."

"So what excuse are you giving your wife for not being home?" You ask, probably pushing the boundaries but why not?

"What's hers?" He asks rhetorically, dancing around a vital piece of information. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. "She left."

"With Jack?" You interrogate. It's not meant to sound so captious, but it comes off that way. You're not one for chatting after having sex with him, but you have to this time.

His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare. He hates discussing Jack with you. In fact, you're the only person on the team he refuses to speak about his son with.

"Yes." He answers.

"I'm so-"

He cuts you off. "Don't." He says firmly, back in a Unit Chief tone. "It's not your business."

You chuckle lightly, feeling really stupid because the one time you offer a discussion about feelings, everything goes terribly. He says it unconsciously himself every time he calls you doll, that you’re only a toy to use and someone to talk to on his terms.

Alright." You grab the coat that you left on the chair. "Goodnight, Hotch."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner au #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut

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strawheart-pirate · 1 year ago

Text

Drought

Portgas D. Ace x gn!Reader

Words: 2268 CW: Alabasta Setting (spoiler-free), SFW, dehydrated Reader, mention of robbery, passing out, lizard, bonfire, food, talks and cuddles

You were in the middle of the desert in Alabasta. Your water bottle was empty, you were robbed, on the edge of passing out and now a sand storm is coming your way. Could this day get any worse?

Empty. Not a single drop fell on your lips as you lifted your head and turned your open bottle upside down above you. You were on your way to your home in Nanohana but you doubted that you would make it. Every step forward felt like too much, the sweat pouring down your face like a river. The march to Alubarna was familiar since you walked this route twice a week for work without problem, but today was different. Bandits crossed your path halfway and since you forgot to take your weapons with you, they stripped you off your water. Mostly. This last bottle was the only one you could protect before they left your bruised body behind.

Just five more miles. It’s not that far. You tried to convince yourself, but you stumbled and fell into the burning hot sand. You lifted your gaze, slamming your fists into the sand, as tears streamed down your face. Ugly sobs escaped your throat as you thought about your grandma. If you won’t come home today, how will she make it? She was a strong woman but her age was noticeable in her actions, so you helped her. You two shared home and salary ever since your parents died and your bond was strong. She will be worried by now, since the sun was about to set in almost two hours.

You got up with determination. There must be some way to make it. Your body was gathering all the last strength he could find to send your feet forward. Slowly but surely, step by step, regardless of how much your legs we’re shaking. You would make it out of here, your grandma needs you and you won’t let her down. In the distance, the outlines of the city slowly got noticeable and you smiled. You started to walk faster, the joy fueling your system when suddenly everything turned black around you and you fell to the ground.

Cold. As your conscience was back, you could feel the cold, hard ground beneath your back. That was not right. You opened your eyes and sat up quickly to look at your surroundings, leaving your head a bit dizzy. You were in a small but spacious cave with just one exit and in front of you was a small, crackling bonfire, which illuminated the stony walls. It was dark outside. Just how long have I been out cold? I need to get going before my kidnappers return. Gladly you realized, that you were alone with no trace of another living thing and so you stood up and slowly walked towards the entrance without making too much sound.

You were just a few steps away from freedom when you came eye to eye with a big purple lizard. Startled you covered your mouth with your hands and stopped breathing. Not a single movement was giving you away and after minutes that felt like hours, the lizard laid down right in front of the entrance, their back facing you. You exhaled the air you’ve been holding. Crap! Just a moment earlier and you would have been out of here.

You sighed and sat back down, resting your back on the stony wall across the exit as you watched the crackling fire. Whoever brought you here, friend or foe, you would handle them, when they get here. But you could at least enjoy the warmth of the fire and soothe your bruises. You inspected every scratch on your body but found none of them bleeding. As you searched your pockets for any leftover food, you were not lucky and your stomach growled loudly in disapproval.

“Thank you!” the hushed words picked your interest and as you looked towards the entrance, you saw a small flame jumping over the relaxed reptile.

A flame can jump? You wiped your eyes and blinked a few times, but you were not hallucinating things. As the flame hit the ground, it turned into a man and your face shifted into a surprised frown.

“Ah, you’re awake! Finally!” the man said as he stripped off his black coat decorated with red flames and his scarf. Beside he wore combat boots, black shorts and had an orange hat on his head. With a grin on his freckled face, he offered you his hand. “I’m Ace.”

You stared at the hand dumbfounded but quickly gained your posture back. “Who are you?”

“Huh?” he tilted his head to the side and retreated his hand. “I said I’m Ace. Are you dumb?”

“I’m not dumb, you dimwit!” you roared and got into a fighting position. “Are you friend or foe?”

Your body hurt, but you needed to be able to fight back in case he was a bandit or worse, a slave trader. As you waited for his answer, he eyed you from head to toe and broke into laughter.

“What?” you asked, not fooled by his antics.

“You’re hilarious.” He spit out between his laughter.

“I’m not! I will fight you if you dare lay your hands on me!” you cracked your knuckles to strengthen your argument.

“Calm down, I won’t harm you.” His laughter subsided. He sat down at the fire and opened his backpack. “I was out to restock. Bet you’re hungry.”

Your stomach growled at his words and you admitted defeat. You took a seat at the fire across from him and let out a sigh.

“Water?” he asked and offered you a blue bottle.

You grabbed the water bottle and sniffed its contents first. No smell. That was good. You let a few single drops fall onto your finger and licked them off. No taste, either. You were 90% sure this was water, and that was enough for your dehydrated self. You gulped down half the bottle in a rush. A smile appeared on your face and you enjoyed the refreshing feeling of the liquid slowly fueling your body with new power. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He said and grabbed one of the skewers. “Food?” A perfectly barbequed piece of meat was offered to you and you exchanged the bottle for the skewer. As you were hesitant, he grabbed your hand that held the meat, brought it to his mouth and took a bite himself, chewed and swallowed. “It’s not poisoned. I swear.”

You blushed a little at his words, since he recognized your concern right away, and retorted your hand. The first bite was still a bit hesitant, but you soon devoured the tasty meat. It was delicious and outstandingly juicy. “It’s perfect.” You said between bites.

“I’m glad you like it.” He answered and you two enjoyed your meal in a peaceful silence.

You sat back fully stuffed. “Dare to tell me your intentions now?”

“Hm? … Oh, I’m sorry, I have none.” Ace said and laid down on his side, eyeing you from the distance.

“None? Why would you pick up a random unconscious person in the desert if you don't get any benefit from it?”

“As you said, because you were unconscious. I was on my way to Nanohana when I came across you. When I picked you up, a sandstorm surprised us and we took shelter in this cave.”

“…is this a ‘Noble hero saving the damsel in distress’-thing and now I shall praise you? Offer you my heart and soul in exchange? What do I owe you, huh?” You just couldn't figure this man out.

“What?! No, nothing! You are strange.” Ace stuttered, totally taken aback by your words, and added in a low voice. “Although a genuine ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

You buried your head on your knees as you thought about your situation. Ace seemed to be trustworthy and he saved you from certain death, which was a fact. Maybe you should trust him. He was the reason you might make it back to your grandma.

“I’m sorry. Thanks for picking me up, Ace.” You said and bowed your head.

“Ahh, no problem.” A slight red painted on Ace cheeks at your words. “Why were you out in the desert so poorly equipped anyway?”

“I was on the way home from Alubarna when bandits robbed me halfway. I carried on but something knocked me out just before I reached Nanohana.”

“Maybe one of those giant scorpions hit you. They were madly running through the desert, moments before the sandstorm raged.”

“That would make sense. It’s common knowledge that they go batshit crazy right before a storm. They are a natural indication of storms.” You sighed and got up. “Anyway, I need to leave now. My grandma will be terribly worried by now. Thanks again for everything.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Ace said and stood up, too.

“Oh, now you show me your true colors, huh?”

He rolled his eyes and walked past you to the entrance. You followed him until he stopped right in front of the giant lizard.

“Lizzy!” Ace called and the purple giant lizard turned around. You dodged when her huge leg was about to hit you.

“Good girl.” Ace said and patted her leg, which made her happy. “As you can see, it’s dark outside and the sand storm has obliterated any trace of the path. If you go now, there’s a good chance you’ll get stuck in quicksand.”

Your gaze wandered over every grain of sand in the landscape. He was right. No sign of a path and the moon was behind clouds. “Damn it!” Frustrated you went back inside and paced around the fire. There was no way you were going to make it to town alive tonight. Frustrated you slumped down across from the entrance once again. Might at least get some sleep until the sun comes up and I can finally go home. You thought and tried to make yourself as comfortable as possible.

Ace followed you after he left some meat for his lizard. He laid down next to his backpack and put his head on top of his rolled-up coat, shutting his eyes. “Lizzy will guard us, so you can rest assured.”

“Okay.”

“As I said, I’m also on my way to Nanohana. We could keep each other company.”

“I’ll think about it… Ace?”

“Hm?”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“Oh, changed your mind? Am I not the bad guy anymore?” he asked in a cocky tone.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, you’re still a dimwit. Just an acceptable dimwit.” A sly smile spread on your face.

“Thank you for your kind words, your highness.” You both chuckled. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Ace said and you heard him shifting.

“Night, Ace.” You said and tried to be comfortable.

Not only your position, but your whole day made you restless and sleep was out of the question. You thought about the bandits, your grandmother, your near-death experience and the man who had saved you. Could this day have been worse? Possibly. You could have been raped, traded as a slave or be even dead. Oh what irony. You snorted. Most bad luck and most good luck happened to you in just one day. You hoped your grandma was okay and got some sleep. Tomorrow you will be with her again and laugh about what happened today. You would tell her about your savior. Your anger and doubt towards him had long since faded and been replaced by gratitude and trust. You had to admit that he was handsome as you thought of his…

“Hey” Ace interrupted your thoughts. He stood right in front of you, his coat in his hands.

“What?” you opened your eyes, looking questioningly at him.

“You’re shaking. Let me sleep beside you.” He said and waited for your approval.

You were about to question his action, when you noticed the strong trembling of your body. Maybe it was the cold or your exhaustion, given all the things that happened today, or maybe it was both, but your body didn't stop. You looked up at him and nodded.

He laid down silently, one arm above his head as a silent offer to lay your head on his bare chest.

You accepted his invitation and moaned a bit as you made contact with his warm skin. When you stopped squirming, he spread the coat above you and wrapped his arm around you.

“You’re half naked, how can you not be cold?”

Ace chuckled. “I’ll show you.” He lifted his finger and a flame appeared on top of it.

You gasped and your eyes sparkled with fascination. “Wow. Is this a real flame?”

“Yeah. I ate the Mera Mera no mi, so I’m basically all flames.” He explained and changed the form of the flame into different shapes.

“Awesome. Does the heat in the desert still affect you even though you are literally on fire?”

“Unfortunately, it does.” He yawned and with a single motion, the flame was gone. “After all I’m still human. You’re in for sleep?”

“I’m in.” Your answer more a mumble than anything else as you shut your eyes and snuggled closer.

Ace adjusted his grip around you and a blissful smile was on his lips. As you struggled where to put your hand, he gripped your wrist and put it onto his chest, resting his hand on top of yours. It felt strange at first, considering how intimate the position was. But the warmth radiating from him wrapped you in a cozy blanket and his trained muscles under your fingers promised protection. The last thing you heard was your name, falling softly from his lips as the slow rise and fall of his chest rocked you to sleep.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #gn reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece oneshots #strawheart-pirate.writing

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lepetitpiastri · 1 year ago

Text

london's calling [op81]

summary: your relationship with oscar comes to an end

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

wc: 700+

warnings: breakup, sad reader and sad oscar,

notes: please give the song 'london's calling' by tyne-james organ a listen while you read!! i got inspired to write a lil song fic for oscar about it soo pls enjoy!

Baby, stop

And look at what you've done to me

Baby, stop

I feel you more when I can't sleep

It's burning a hole in the ground

It brings me down

You and Oscar were never meant to be. As hard as you both tried to make it work, the relationship had finally come to an end.

It was a messy breakup. Not one that ended in anger and hate, but one where tears were shed from both sides. The kind that had your heart hurting, with a deep longing pain that made you clutch your chest as you lay awake at night. Your bed had never felt so empty, devoid of the warmth that Oscar always brought. You realized that you avoided his side where his scent still lingered, his cologne, race leathers and mint. You avoided the part where the mattress dips in, moulded to fit his body. It could never fit you the way you wished it would. You sobbed unconsciously and held yourself tighter as the tears fell again.

Baby, stop

You're heading home and it's not fair

Baby, stop

I couldn't tell you I still care

Oscar hovered over your name on his phone. He had thought about calling you countless times that day, but every single time he stopped himself. He knew it would just make things worse. But god he missed you. He missed your voice, your smile, your eyes. The way you comforted him when he doubted himself. He wanted to do the same for you. But now it's too late. He longed to see you, to reassure you that things would be alright. Hold you through the tears and pain, just as he promised you in the beginning.

As he contemplated calling you for the final time that night he figured you must have been in Australia by now. He tried to justify his hesitation in calling by saying that there was a time difference and that you must have been asleep already. He knew he was only lying to himself by saying all these reasons for not calling but he knew better; he knew you would still have been wide awake just as he was, replaying the events of the previous days.

Maybe he was scared of the rejection. Scared to find out that you would decline his call knowing that it would have been the best decision for you. Scared that hearing your voice would cause him to regret everything. To regret his decision of ending things. He had broken your heart and he knew he didn't deserve you anymore.

Don't forget, don't forget

What we shared, we shared

Oscar pondered over his lockscreen getting lost in thought. It was a photo you took together sometime ago. You had sneaked in a picture while he was talking about some silly thing that happened at practice. He knew he must have been talking nonsense but you were listening intently to him that day, the way you always did. You had a smile that brightened up your face. The smile that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Baby, stop

You're leaving for a while, it seems

He wanted to say more, call out to you, take you in his arms and apologize for everything he said and did. Hope that you would forgive him and the both of you could put it in the past. Regret clawed at his heart as his words replayed again and again in his mind. Surely it didn't have to end this way?

No, you had known him better that he knew himself. He might have brought up the idea but you solidified the decision. You told him to focus on his racing career. To devote his energy and strength to this. He didn't realize it but that was what he really wanted. As always you knew better. He couldn't have it all. You had to make him see that in order to reach his dream he would have to give it everything he had. Which meant ultimately, that he had to let you go.

Baby, stop

You know this always was your dream

'I hope for nothing but the best for you.' you said, voice unwavering.

'You know I'll always love you,' the words catching in his throat as you walked away.

You turn, regarding him with a small smile. 'I know Oscar.'

notes: hoo boy, idk why i would write a breakup fic when i adore oscar so much lol

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #op81

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upontherisers · 22 days ago

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"They're all lying" for Mahalia pretty please?

a/n: nATE this is so late i am sorry. this sparked something in me and i'd say that this is the prologue for the dysfunction fic.

summary: john housesits for mahalia while she recovers at an army hospital in detroit. he visits everyday. cw for discussions of attempted suicide.

“They’re lying.”

“Really? They’re all lying?”

“Every one of ‘em,” Mahalia says, taking a drag of her cigarette before smashing it in the ashtray between them. “Fuckin’ white coats trying to see something that ain’t there.”

She whacks his hand with the back of hers and it feels like getting hit by a child. “Gimme another one.”

He tugs the pack out of his breast pocket but doesn’t pass it over, instead placing it out of her reach on the frosted glass tabletop.

“What happened?” he asks.

No answer. She tosses her curls out of her eyes before dragging her hands down her face and pulling at her skin. His stomach turns as he watches the sun catch on protruding knuckles and gaunt tendons; she looks worse than she did in the stalag, and he’s already apologized to the staff for his outburst on Monday, but he still has half a mind to go to the Air Force about this. Still has half a mind to take her home and do the rest himself. There’d been assurances when this started — the best care possible, they’d said — but he’s only gotten closer to losing her since he arrived.

Wind rustles through the trees lining the yard. He’s not used to the sounds yet — trees, water, birds — but they’re stopped feeling foreign to his ears. That’s a start.

We’re gonna get through this, come on. Don’t you stop believing that.

“How’s your leg?”

“Broke,” she snorts, and he feels bad so he finally hands her a smoke and his match book. Does she know she still hunches against the cold air when she lights up? Uses the small flame to warm her face and her hands for a moment before she shakes it out, winking with an indulgent grin. “Sure’d be nice to have this in bed. Where’s your lighter?”

“Germany. The girl next to ya’s got half a lung.”

“No one asked her to hop on a grenade. They let ‘em smoke in the loony ward, you know that? But all of us sound mind folks have to slum it out here ‘cause of Sergeant Silver Star.”

“Sound mind?” He has her talking now, might as well try.

She props an elbow on the arm of her wheelchair and taps, ash spilling onto her robe. Doesn’t acknowledge the ashtray when he pushes it toward her, just stares over the water and half-smiles, distant, flagellatory. “I’m righter than rain.”

“What’s the bandage from?” he asks, taking back his smokes. He needs something to do with his hands.

Her wrist turns slowly as she examines the white gauze wrapping up her forearm with critical interest, as if she’s only now noticed the wound. She sniffs. “Alex didn’t ask so many questions.”

Funny, since Alex is the reason he’s here in the first place. “You didn’t give him the chance.”

“I did, he lost it,” she says, scowling at a pair of birds taking flight from the riverbank. “He marched up in here talkin’ ‘bout ‘healing’—” Her disdain is so palpable he can taste it next to his cigarette. “—Talkin’ ‘bout ‘guilt’ and ‘conscious.’ Talkin’ ‘bout talkin’ ‘bout it, like talkin’ ‘bout it will fix my leg, like that fuckin’ shrink gives a damn about me.”

She banned me from seeing her, Alex wrote. She’s got no one to take her once she’s discharged. The psychiatrist is worried she’ll try something again. Come down for a week, see if she’ll let you in.

Again? John wrote back along with the number for the boarding house in Green Bay, and Alex called three days later with that question that made him sick. Oh, no one’s told you?

No, no one’s told him. No one’s told him about anything — not Alex, certainly not her, not even Dr. Kaminski, the nervous little man John had cornered after he arrived to Mahalia’s empty bed and a nurse wiping up a pool of blood without a single person informing him of an incident as he was on his way up.

Major, I would prefer to save such a discussion for next-of-kin—

That’s me.

The doctor dipped the left temple of his eyeglasses and mopped at his forehead with a white handkerchief. Shell shock can manifest in bouts of passion, anger—

Passion? he asked not as a question, but so that the good doctor could hear his own words. The wood floor had already stained russet as the nurse ran a cloth over it, the smell of iron in his nose sending white-hot terror down his spine. Mahalia doesn’t do passion.

Kaminski sighs. I understand that Ms. Summerton—

Lieutenant.

I’m sorry?

Lieutenant, John repeats and it feels like he’s back in the stalag when her cough started and he knew it was something and no one would fucking listen until it landed her here. Backs against the wall, just them against the world, and he her protector. You don’t know her, not like I do. Lieutenant Summerton.

Yes, yes, of course, Kaminski said, waving a hand with all the ivory tower confidence of a man who’d seen John’s intensity and stature and decided he’s brawn over brain, another Major Meathead.

That’s when he resolved to break her out of here. They’ve let this happen twice on their watch in four weeks and he made it ten months, through pain so bad it made her sick and cold that you wouldn’t wish on the Devil, without losing her once. Later, sitting next to her bed while she slept in the neurological ward, he started planning his move from her parents’ bedroom to the couch so she can have the bed and the sunrise through the window in the morning, started calculating how to downsize to the top cabinet in the kitchen so she won’t know he’s back on the bottle. He’ll cook something she’ll finally eat and he doesn’t scream in his nightmares — not as far as he knows — so she’ll get a full night’s sleep, and he’ll help her stretch and drive her to the doctor’s and heal.

The birds land on a birch branch nearby, beautiful dark chests blending into the dappled shade from the canopy above. Her eyes go orange in the sunlight, like the dark center of an acorn, like sweet potato, as she follows them upward.

“Those are black terns,” he says.

A laugh bubbles from her throat, more surprise than amusement, and he sniffs, tossing his head with a shrug. “My mother likes birdwatching.”

It comes out as more of a mumble than he meant it to, unable to raise his eyes above his lap, but is the best he can do. Tit for tat.

Her lips part and he braces for impact — she can’t see his throat exposed without lunging for it — but the terns start singing, shrill and rhythmic, an alarm blaring. Smoke turns to ash in his mouth when he sees her eyes blow wide. The Red Tails were the defense part of the Allied Air Defense; he got gently shaken awake and coffee before his flights, she got sirens and no time to pray, and now she’s locked onto the branch, chest heaving, knuckles turning white as she grips the arms of her wheelchair. Prepared to fly.

A beat passes, then another, then a whole cigarette in silence. The birds keep crying and her head turns unconsciously toward the wind chimes sounding from the patio like a dog hearing a high whistle.

Eventually, her shoulders drop from their hunch and she smooths over her robe with mechanical precision. “My mother liked gardening.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

They lapse into quiet again, but he doesn’t feel settled. There’s a buzz hanging in the air, a trickle through a crack in a dam, a page turning — it’s unlike her to not pick up after herself, but he finds that she leaves the words with him more and more. The ball in his court, the door unlocked behind her exit.

He steps through after her. “I saw some tools in the shed.”

“You can toss those. The same rusty ones she’s been using forever. Couldn’t get a nickel for ‘em if you tried to sell.”

And to think he’d forgotten what it feels like to sit next to her — the hot prickle on every inch of his skin and the peace in his bones like he’s finally in the ground, as if his heart’s walked out his chest to stand right in front of him. Like a reflection, like the back of his hand, like eighteen months of stalemates on Hambone’s busted chessboard. Gale calls it Newton’s Third Law, and perhaps that’s why John can feel the pain behind her eyes like he’s the one seeing through them. The defective parts in him are the same in her, mirrored each time he tries to pull her closer and she pushes him away.

He’ll keep trailing her footsteps because this war taught him that there are three things he can’t quit: drinking, hope, and her. And as these bright June days march into July, she’s unfolded as much as she dares — still angry, still stubborn and haughty and righteous — but unfolded nonetheless, giving him hope.

“It doesn’t hurt to have them,” he says.

You gotta meet me somewhere. A quarter of the way, an eighth, even — I see your sister’s pictures on the walls and no one tells me a goddamn thing. Meet me somewhere.

“I suppose,” she replies. And that’s a start. She doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t tell him to get out, doesn’t roll off on her own and leave him with only himself and the terns. She instead picks at her robe while the breeze turns cool in the early evening. “I — Don’t—“

“Excuse me, sir.” A nurse approaches, hands twisting nervously, eyes flitting between him and Mahalia. “Visitation will end in an hour for patient dinner.”

He nods at her, pops a soothing smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Lieutenant Summerton.” She departs with a dip of her head.

“Did I yell at her?”

“I did,” Mahalia sighs, “and I got blood on her shoes.”

His heart seizes to the point that he’s speechless, but he can’t sit in it or she’ll back out. “How’d that happen?”

For a moment, he thinks he’s too late as she pulls her good leg to her chest and rests her arm on her knee, her chin tucking into the crook of her elbow. She doesn’t say anything until the birds sing again.

“Don’t tell Alex,” she murmurs. “Or Vera and Benny, or — or Brady, or—”

“Or Gale?”

She exhales and her entire body sinks. It’s easy to lie to Gale — to counter, contradict — because he doesn’t believe you. But omission is another thing. That’s when the guilt comes in; Gale knows when you’re telling the truth, he just doesn’t know that something’s missing. And you get that small, easy smile like he’s proud of you for your candor knowing you usually dodge, and he’s none the wiser.

“Not Gale.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“He wants to visit.”

“Great, he should bring Marge.”

A low blow, but that’s how she gets when she’s cornered and how she prefers to do her fighting. She and Alex still won’t talk about what happened on the day they went down; trapped animals will do whatever necessary to be free. Whatever necessary.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asks, squinting at the sunlight circling her head in a corona.

She turns to him, a saint. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It’s humorless and bitter and she lights a smoke like it’s February in Germany, but it’s not a no, and he’s instantly dreaming — hope again, fucking hope — of watching her shamble into the kitchen in the mornings and sitting barefoot on the porch stairs with coffee as they watch the streetlights come on. There’s life, Mahalia, it’s everywhere. I’ll show you.

“They can discharge you tomorrow.”

Her frown loosens and her brows furrow like they’re of two different minds. “But — how — but you’re working.”

He shrugs. “A man’s gotta make a living.”

“And you trust me? Alone in the house by myself?”

If she wants him to flinch first, she’s going to have to come out with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I — I just figured, y’know…”

“What?”

She shrugs, all nonchalance falling flat over the avian thinness in her shoulders, and stares at a passing nurse. “I just figured you learned your lesson the first time.”

Ah, the first time. He was determined to get himself killed the first time, losing her and Gale within hours of each other. But he lived, didn’t he? And she lived and Gale lived, and that makes him want to stay right in it as long as he can. She his mirror wants to run before it burns her. They’ll meet in the middle.

Her cigarette burns down to her fingers and she turns to the ashtray. Stamp, stamp, stamp. She checks her watch before gesturing for his pack. “Gimme another one.”

He slides it over and takes in the sunset, by her side until they kick him out.

#mail call #sparkedupsilver #my writing #mahalia summerton #mahalia x bucky #dysfunction fic #ik i've been a ghost on here but i've been soooooo busy! my writing time is down significantly and i don't know when i'll get it back

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alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody · 22 days ago

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kinktober #22

Exposed 😳 / Bewitching 🧙‍♀️

Jack’s pants are getting tight, and it’s all Bittle’s fault. He has to unbutton them after his break, grateful for the extra camouflage of his apron. He had been so good until Bittle showed up with his sweet blond cowlick and his entrancing Southern drawl and his devastatingly delicious little pies.

Look, Jack has worked in and around food service for most of his life. His dad is practically Tim Horton, if Tim Horton was more sophisticated and was really into fair-trade, single-origin coffee. He knows that the only way to make food taste that good is to add an unholy amount of butter.

He’d been doing so well at restricting less, which is the part that really sucks. Since his therapist, George, went on maternity leave three months ago, he’s backslid from a tenuous recovery back into overanalyzing his body and what he’s putting into it. Every time he looks at the plate of pies in the back of house, he finds himself doing the mental math: if he eats one, he’ll have a salad for lunch. If he eats two, he’ll have a small salad for lunch. If he eats three or more, he doesn’t need lunch because he’ll have already eaten too much. George would not condone this kind of thinking, but she’s still out for another three weeks, so it’s just Jack against his stupid brain and the world.

His stomach growls under his snug logo t-shirt. He needs to size up, but he’s been putting it off in hopes that if he waits long enough, he’ll drop some weight and he won’t need to add an extra X after all. So far he just keeps catching his reflection in the elegant iron-framed mirror across the cafe and noticing how the crimson fabric pulls across his broad back, how it gets folded into what’s starting to be a(nother) roll at his sides.

Bittle glows in his stupid crimson shirt. It makes his cheeks pinker, his eyes browner, his skin brighter, like a perfect scoop of neapolitan ice cream. It makes Jack hungry to look at him, no matter how much he tells himself it’s just association. It’s just how sometimes they brush past each other behind the counter and he catches the smell of fruit and pastry wafting off him, how just the sight of him makes Jack want. Want to touch, want to eat, want to fill up some emptiness inside himself with sugar and fat.

Man, he has got to get back to therapy.

He tried not to let himself count how many pies he ate today, but he can feel in his gut that it was too many. It’s always too many, now, and he knows Bittle’s crunching the numbers from the way he always smiles more coming out of the back of house after a shift. Jack tries not to let himself think about that, either.

Maybe Bittle’s a witch. That would explain a lot.

Though right now, he doesn’t exactly look it. He’s steaming milk for a latte, standing as far back as he possibly can while still exposing the milk to any heat. He got a nasty burn on his hand from the steamer wand in his first week and hasn’t trusted the thing since. It would almost be cute if it didn’t make it basically impossible for Jack to squeeze by in the space left over.

Unfortunately, the register and the stacks of hot cups are on the other side of the counter, beyond Bittle and the steamer and the remnants of Jack’s dignity, and there’s a gaggle of scrubbed-up medical students approaching with caffeine in their sights, and there is no way Bittle is going to be finished steaming that milk by the time they’re ready to order. This kind of prescience is what makes Jack an excellent barista: he can see ten steps ahead and plan his moves well in advance, so he’s never scrambling when the moment comes. It also gives him a lot of time to worry.

He grits his teeth. It’s so much worse that it’s medical students, somehow. They’re all so — small. They can’t be much younger than Jack himself, but — maybe unsurprisingly, given how Jack’s doctor talked about his weight at his last physical — they all look like they run twenty miles every morning and eschew anything with calories.

Which is especially unfair, because Jack runs every morning, too. His body just wants him to be fat. And so, apparently, does Eric Bittle.

He takes a deep breath and eyes the space between Bittle’s slight, lithe body and the counter. Bittle probably never has to think about this. He can probably fit in anywhere, and no one ever thinks it’s weird or tells him he’s obsessed with food or that it’s no wonder he looks the way he does when he starts yapping about desserts.

Jack grits his teeth. “Excuse me,” he says softly, but Bittle doesn’t hear him over the shriek of the steamer. “Excuse me,” he tries again, louder, just as the bell at the front door dings and the medical students cluster in, chattering loudly, and when Bittle still doesn’t reply, he squeezes himself between him and the counter.

Bittle freezes, which is somehow worse than anything else. Jack’s face starts to burn. Although his apron hasn’t moved, he feels like his unbuttoned pants must be on display for the everyone in the shop to see, for the entire city to gawk at through the tall front windows, branding him as too big, too wide. The medical students haven’t so much as glanced in his direction, but Bittle, clutching the metal steamer cup and a coffee-stained rag, is staring right at him.

“Jack?” he says, and it might as well just be the two of them on the planet.

Jack feels like a cornered dog, ready to snap, to sink his teeth into Bittle just for asking. Anything would be better than having to be vulnerable about this.

“Don’t,” he grinds out, and he makes the coffees for the med students. He rings them up, he smiles as politely as he can. Bittle — small, shining, perfect Bittle — presses himself against the back counter as Jack moves back and forth, aching.

—

Bittle leaves without a word when his shift is over. Jack has several more hours on the clock to feel bad about it, no matter how much Shitty, the closer, tries to make him laugh.

It’s not until Jack has clocked out, hauled himself down the block to his parking spot, and safely ensconced himself in his car that he sees the text from Bittle.

Hey! I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable today. We can talk about it if you want, or I can switch to weekends or something when you’re off.

Jack stares down at his phone.

No, I’m sorry. I’ve been taking some things out on you that you don’t deserve, and that’s on me. You haven’t done anything but make me question some things.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

No, I’m sorry. I’ve been taking some things out on you that you don’t deserve, and that’s on me. It’s not your fault. I’m just realizing I have a lot more work to do around my relationships with food and my body than I thought.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

No, I’m sorry. I’ve been taking some things out on you that you don’t deserve, and that’s on me. It’s not your fault. My therapist is on leave right now and I’m not doing great.

He crushes his eyes shut until his phone vibrates with Bitty’s response: Your therapist! I do love a man who values his mental health. I understand, anyway. Can I do anything to help?

Jack scoffs. No, I just need to get out of my head. You’re fine, really.

Actually, can I ask you something? Even if it might be a little forward?

That depends on the question.

If you’re enjoying my pies (and don’t you dare tell me if you’re not), why haven’t you said a word to me about them?

Jack flushes. He thinks Bittle’s teasing, though he’s never been good at reading tone and his anxiety doesn’t help. But he took the mention of his therapist well, at least? That seems like it might be something? And besides, it’s not like he can really pretend nothing’s wrong with the way he’s treated Bittle or the pies at this point.

Finally, he types, I am enjoying them. I just have a hard time with food sometimes. It’s hard for me to let myself enjoy things.

He has to close his eyes again to send it. George would be so proud of him. Even though he feels like he might need to be peeled off the pavement.

His phone buzzes. Well, mister, lucky for you, I’m happy to help with that!

Again. If you want me to, I mean! I don’t want to invite myself along on your self-love journey!

And again. Ugh. What I’m trying to say is that if you’re not a pumpkin man, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve! If that would be ok with you, that is.

In spite of himself, Jack smiles.

I actually prefer apple.

#feedist kinktober 2024 #feedist kinktober #my fic #my writing #check please #chubby jack #jack x bitty #zimbits #cp coffee shop au

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starrysnowdrop · 2 months ago

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FFXIVWrite 2024 #3: Tempest

Noun: a violent commotion, disturbance, or tumult.

During the events of patch 4.0; Yume’s heart is in turmoil over her two losses against the crown prince of Garlemald, and she can’t stop thinking about him.

Twisting and turning, rolling over onto her side, and then onto her back again, Yume just couldn’t seem to settle herself down enough to go to sleep. The bed that was offered to her by Cirina was way more comfortable than the Auri samurai had anticipated; the pillows were extremely soft and the perfect shape for her horns, so she could lie down comfortably in any direction. Yume certainly had slept in much worse accommodations over the years, so it wasn’t anything physical that was cumbersome enough to keep her from sleep this night. Still, getting up and stepping outside for some fresh air could do her some good.

Yume sat up and didn’t bother putting any shoes on, nor a robe, as her lightweight top and shorts covered her enough so that she was decent. As she stood up and walked out of the tent that she was sharing with her comrades, the crisp, night air of the Steppe gently brushed past her face, relaxing her tense muscles enough for her to take a sigh of relief.

Yet even with the cool breeze easing the tension in her body, she didn’t feel anymore tired than before. In fact, the change in atmosphere made her mind wander… and her heart began to beat furiously in her chest as her mind settled once more on her enemy.

Zenos yae Galvus, the crown prince of Garlemald, the heir apparent to the Imperial Throne, and the legatus of the XIIth Legion…

Yume had now faced him twice in single combat, and both times she had been defeated, devastatingly so. She had always prided herself on her martial prowess, and she was especially proud that she had never been defeated in single combat before, against anyone. She had even fought several Imperial legatuses before, Gaius van Baelsar, Regula van Hydrus, and a resurrected Nael van Darnus to be exact.

So why him? Why couldn’t she beat Zenos? Why couldn’t she leave him with any injury whatsoever besides a broken katana and a snapped piece of his helm?

The more Yume thought about both encounters, the more her heart became a roiling, raging tempest that gave rise to conflicting emotions, including some feelings that she had never felt before.

Zenos was the one enemy she couldn’t defeat, which infuriated her to no end; it made her even angrier for her damaged ego, and she would love nothing more than to face him once more so she could finally be granted the victory that she deserved.

And yet… she could not stop thinking about him in other ways… in ways that her comrades would not understand.

Her mind wandered to the way his long, luscious, golden hair flowed around him as he moved; his eyes were as blue as a summer sky and yet were as ravenous as a predatory beast as he stared her down across the battlefield. In their latest encounter, he gave her a chilling smile that shook her to her core. And his voice was deep and coarse yet filled with passion as he spoke the words that haunted her every thought and yet she was still struggling to comprehend what exactly he meant by them:

Oh...how right I was to spare your life.

Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live.

For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds─live.

For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world─live!

As she sighed deeply and shook her head, Yume couldn’t deny that she thought Zenos yae Galvus was simply the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and his handsome visage along with his voice had ignited a spark deep inside her that refused to burn out.

The other thought that Yume couldn’t shake off was the fact that if things were different, if Zenos wasn’t her enemy, and she was still her father’s heir, then her father and the rest of the Aino clan would’ve deemed Zenos to be the only one worthy of marrying her, due to him being the only one to defeat her in battle.

Yes, in another life, another time, Zenos could very well have been her husband.

Yume tried to shake the thought from her mind as she shook her head back and forth and slammed her eyes shut. She deemed such thoughts as ridiculous, and yet… her heart skipped a beat.

Yume’s Blog: @firelightmuse

#ffxivwrite2024 #prompt 3 tempest #zenos x wol #wol x zenos #zenoswol #yume aino #oc: paint it black #yume x zenos #ship: bad romance

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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

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nine - frank castle

— frank castle x afab!reader

— warnings: mentions of unwanted pregnancy, abortion and all the surrounding baby themes!!! allusions to sex (obvs) and swearing.

— a/n: *ringing bells* did anyone ask for frank angst? no? here it is!!!!! i’ve wanted to write this idea for a while and i haven’t done a frank one shot in so long!!! too long!! hope you like this :)

It was taunting you.

Every time you closed your eyes now, you could see it. Those two bright pink fucking lines, as obvious as ever, all but flashing at you. You doubt you’ll ever get that image out of your head now.

It wasn’t like you weren’t careful, either— you were so, so paranoid about it. If anything, Frank was less so. You used condoms, had an alarm to take your pill, and you never missed a day. Even that entire month you spent living in Micros garage, you took your fucking pill and bought condoms with the groceries. Getting pregnant was so far out the realm of possibility, and ever further away from what you needed right now.

So now, as you were shoving the positive pregnancy test to the very bottom of the trash, you tried to figure out what the hell you did to the universe for it to mess you up like this. Maybe it was karma, or the inevitable bad luck after so much good. Everything had been going a little too well recently. You had an apartment close to the city, and a decent job you enjoyed to keep you busy while you and Frank waited for your next move.

Frank was around more often than not, keeping himself as close as possible to you. You had half a mind he was going to ask you to move in with him soon, with how often you guys were seeing each other. It was the best you’d ever been, and after all you two went through last year you thought this might finally be a break.

But this— this was going to send it all out the window. When your period didn’t come last week, you thought it was just stress. You hadn’t been eating that great this past few weeks, waiting for your new passport to come from Agent Madani was an anxious time. Things happen, and God knows you haven’t been treating your body that great. If Frank didn’t cook for you, you had a regular diet of take out pizza and these dried up noodles that packed your trash can.

Frank had been away for a week, too. You always got worried when he was gone for longer— wondering if he was safe. He couldn’t exactly text you when he was on these kinds of jobs, risking yours and his safety just to ease your mind. He would if you asked, but you didn’t. You just waited at home, ignoring the empty feeling in your chest until he walked through the door.

You don’t even know why you bought the test. It was so far out of your mind, and you were so fucking careful— but while you were in the shops you just walked past them. Bright pink lettering, a smiling couple on the front, a little ad telling you you can get results as early as fourteen days. Frank had been gone for half that, and the night he left, the weeks before it… even the memory of it sends shivers up your spine.

It was a busy night, but there wasn’t any way that you were actually pregnant.

You chucked it in your bag anyways, thinking you could ease at least a tiny bit of this anxiety.

Nope.

No, it has only made things worse.

The test is covered as well as you could get it, and you sprint back into the bathroom, taking the new tests you’ve bought with you. Eight of them, all different brands. One of them has to be right because there is no way you are pregnant. No fucking way.

You tear through the tests like a woman possessed, drinking what feels like a gallon of water so you can pee enough. One by one, you check the results. Even if one of them is negative you’d be happy. Relieved. Every one of them comes back, and you’ve never seen such obvious lines, not even on the front of the god damn box.

Every single one. Two lines.

Pregnant.

You puke. Immediately after seeing those positive tests all lined up on the counter it’s like your body kicks into gear. You throw up everything you’ve eaten that day, and between heaves of breath, you think to yourself. Shit, is this morning sickness? Already? Is it already that far, and I just haven’t noticed it?

You jam the rest of the tests in the bathroom bin. There would be no happy surprises, no ‘you’re a dad!’ gag gifts, and you certainly wouldn’t be handing him a test with a smile on your face. You feel similar to the way you did when you set the kitchen on fire the one time you tried to cook, or when you broke that framed picture Frank had of his kids.

You knew in your heart he wouldn’t be mad, that things happened and he would understand, but you could never be one hundred percent sure. He’s never given you a reason to think he would ever react with anger, and all those times you’ve felt this queasy feeling he’s shrugged it off. Dosing the kitchen with water, picking up the glass and telling you not to worry about it. He understood— but god, this was so much more of a fuck up than that. This wasn’t even on the scale. It was life altering, literally. You just couldn’t say for sure how he’d react.

Crumbling to the floor, your knees pressed to your cheeks, you let yourself cry. Full body sobbing, with every thought washing over you in an overwhelming tidal. How the fuck were you meant to tell him?

Would you…

Yes, you have to tell him. He might hate you for it, storm out and never come back, maybe he’d even tell you that he didn’t want that, not with you, or with anyone. But you had to tell him. As soon as you saw him, you’d tell him. But… how? He freezes up when you even mention kids around him, or the way he went all silent when you had to watch your sisters kid for one hour. He’s great with them, sure, but as soon as they become his responsibility he’s suddenly somewhere else.

You wouldn’t blame him if he backed out. You’d never actually spoken about it, but you know what happened to him. To his family. It was only about 7 or 8 years ago, and you know it still weighed on him. Shit, it scared you off having kids, too, hence the reason you were always so worried about this stuff. It was way too soon to even think about stuff like that. You didn’t even know if you wanted this…the way you live. This was too dangerous, there was no way you could even entertain this—

“You home, sweetheart?” His voice travels through the apartment, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up again. “Hello?”

For a second you think about ignoring him. Stifling your sobs, you press your hand over your mouth, keeping as quiet as possible. His keys hit the counter where you know you dropped all the groceries, then his boots clank methodically, walking through to your room first. You hear him open the door slowly in case you were asleep, and when he doesn’t find you in there he closes it again. It’s ridiculous, this whole thing that your doing is dumb, and when he starts to walk closer to the bathroom door you stand up, trying to put yourself together. You’ll just have to face him. Tell him straight up. You catch yourself in the mirror, face puffy and eyes bright red, and then you hear the doorknob turn and push against the lock.

“You in there, baby?” He calls softly, and you inhale as much as you can, trying to make sure your voice isn’t choked up from crying.

“Yeah.” You call back, and you hear him stall. He catches that somethings wrong. He knew you way too well by now.

“You okay?” Your eyes close, face screwing back up trying to will the tears away.

“Yep.” He’s been gone for a week. A whole week. Your heart was practically a magnet to him, pulling at your chest and begging you to go out and jump on him. But all you manage is a ‘yep’.

“You… you sure?” Not managing words this time, you just hum and cover your mouth again, a few tears sliding their way over your hand. You see yourself in the mirror again, and the sound of his voice only makes it worse. “Alright. I’m…back. Thought I’d come over and see how you’re doing.”

“Good. M’good.” You sit on the floor again, head in your hands, trying to maintain some kind of composure. “I-I’m glad you’re h-home.”

“Open the door, baby.” His voice was lower, somehow serious and soothing at the same time. He knew something was wrong, and even though he didn’t know why, it was like he flicked a switch. Went into an instant mode of protection at the sound of you crying. “Hey…hey. Open the door.”

“I can’t, Frank.” Even muffled by your hands your tone is too loud, uncontrollable because of the way your chest goes tight and you can’t breathe— “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, I was so careful I… I swear I didn’t—“

“Baby, I want you to open the door.” You know he’s putting his weight on the frame now, wood creaking under the pressure. Another few minutes and it would cave under him. “Whatever happened, you can tell me, but I gotta see you. Let me help you.”

Even though your rational brain says to keep him out until you’ve collected yourself, hearing him right now is too much. You need him as bad as he wants to be let in. It’s pathetic, the way you crawl across the floor, whacking the lock and scooting back to lean against the wall. He’s in within a second, the door giving way under the force of him practically shoving it down, nearly breaking the hinge.

In the next moment he’s on his knees next to you, strong arms pulling your limp body up and into his lap. It’s strange— how having Frank under you, your face pressed to his chest is the most calming thing in the world, as if he isn’t the very reason you’re terrified right now. Or half the reason, at least.

“You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He says into your hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. His hands were fisted in your shirt, holding your tightly. “Come on, baby. You’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to—“ You suck in a breath and Franks hands come to your face, holding you in a way that you can’t look anywhere but his eyes.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, and you shake your head.

“It’s not. It’s not okay. I…” He pulls you in again, but you see the look on his face before he does. He was worried— he probably thinks someone’s dead or you’ve been cheating on him or… “Frank, I’m so sorry.”

“Why do you keep sayin’ that? You couldn’t do anything wrong, baby. Nothin’ you should be cryin’ over like this.” Your heart was in your throat, and you curl up closer to him, hiding your face. It was the only way you were going to be able to get the words out, if you didn’t have to look at him.

“I’m…”

“You’re what?” You can imagine the way he’s looking down at you, face soft, eyes soothing like you could tell him anything. “Tell me. Please.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He stops breathing. You feel it because your head was leaning on his chest, and his heart might of even stopped for a second. It’s like there’s a moment of suspension, the second before a crash or a bullet hitting flesh, and you know it’s coming but you just have to wait for it. The only sound is you crying softly, and Franks hands come off your face, hovering over your skin like he can’t even touch you.

“You’re… you’re sure?”You nod once, eyes rapidly searching his face for a reaction. He’s pale as a ghost, and looks about as good as you do— about on the verge of throwing up. “Fuck.”

He wasn’t touching you at all now, and that one look—a single reaction was all you needed. You scoot away from him, closer to the sink, and watch as his gaze shifts from your face to your stomach, like he could already see the evidence of what you’d done. What you’d both done. He leans forward and you lean back.

“Hold on—“

“I was so fucking careful, Frank. You know how I am with that stuff. The week before you left, though, we were in that hotel room and I can’t remember… we slept for so long after. I don’t remember.”

“Yeah.” Frank swallows, the memory not as positive as it once was. “When did you— when did you find out?”

“Today. About an hour ago.” Your voice was hardly above a whisper. “I’m so sorr—“

“Why are you apologising? Come here.” You feel weak limbed, exhaustion creeping it’s way in because of all the energy you’ve poured out in the last hour overthinking and sobbing, but you manage the short distance to him. He leans forward, tugging you the rest of the way and burying his face low in the crook of your neck.

“I just… I know what this brings up for you.” Frank shakes his head against you, hugging you tighter. “We were so…good, for so long and I don’t want to—“

“We’re still good. Everything’s… fuck. It’ll be okay.” He breathes in deep, like he’s savouring every second of closeness. “We— we’re alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Stop.” He looks up now, and there’s a hint of a tear in his own eye. Fuck, maybe you really did scare him. Or maybe the reality is so much worse than the imaginary thing you were going to say in his head. “Stop sayin’ that. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You don’t want this.” Your neck even feels limp, his hands the only thing holding you upright. His eyebrows furrow when you say it, eyes searching yours. “I don’t even…”

“You…don’t?” He says, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. You suddenly feel the urge to puke. Again.

“I don’t know. I never really thought… God, we can’t talk about this. I—“

“Now seems like the right time.”

“Frank, I’m not expecting you to— this isn’t me trying to hold you to anything… I know you wouldn’t want..this.” You go to touch your stomach, and quickly drop your hands in your lap. “I wasn’t even going to tell you—“

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” He tries to keep the soft tone, but there’s just a tiny hint of anger. Nothing scary, but enough to confirm that he would of hated if you hid this from him. Enough for you to realise he isn’t going to run out and leave. That he cares.

“Now. I wasn’t going to tell you right now. Of course I would— I just… I don’t even know how long… it’s been.” It’s like saying the word will somehow make it more real. Your breath gets more rapid and your head is pounding from the past hour. “I need to sort things out… go to a doctor or something and I don’t— fuck, I drank a glass of wine yesterday. Does it—“

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just… take a second.” He looks really worried, cradling you in one arm like he might break you if he pushed too hard. “We can… we can figure this out.”

“You think so?” You look up, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can.” The pounding in your head subsides a little as you let your eyes close, breathing in his familiar smell. You don’t know exactly what it is, but he just smells… good. There’s almost something nostalgic about it— happy memories that come in flashes, making your heart flutter in your chest.

“I thought you might be angry.” You admit from the safety of your spot on his chest. “I was scared you’d leave… or something. I don’t… God, I don’t know why I’m crying so much.”

“It happens. When— you know.” You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. Of course he knows, he’s done it before. Twice. And then it was taken away from him.

“Frank, if you don’t— you can tell me. You can say what you’re thinking. That you don’t want to do this.” Your shoulders sag with the weight of your words. Knowing what it’ll mean if he agrees with you. You know this is your choice, but hearing his is make or break for you.

“Why you assumin’ you know what I’m thinking? Besides, what I want doesn’t matter right now.” He says into your hair.

“It does to me. It matters to me. A lot, okay? I… I want to know what your thinking right now.” He sucks in a long, purposeful breath, and shudders as he breathes out.

“I’m scared. Terrified of it. Thinkin’ about all the ways this… it scares me.” You sit up, crossing your legs and facing him. You fit between his legs like this, and watch as his head leans back against the wall, his eyes still closed. “When I lost… those kids were the fucking world to me, and when I lost them? That tore me apart. Still does. Never thought I’d— I thought I’d be with them after I was finished with all that shit last year. When I was done I thought I’d be better off dead. That’s the kinda shit that runs through your head with things like that.”

“Frank—“

“But then… then I met you. And you looked at me like I was… I don’t know. Made me laugh for the first time in years, though. It felt good, being around you. Feels good. I started thinkin’… you know, maybe there’s something here. Maybe this is a point, or a sign, and now I’m here, with you… and I’m fucking happy. You… you’re it for me. You are my sign. You made— make me wanna find out what comes after.” He says all of this to the ceiling, and you were crying again. Eyes blurred, you could hardly see him anymore, but his hand reached out and his fingers brushed along your knuckles. A sign he was still there. “So hearing this— that you’re… I don’t know what to take it as.”

“Neither do I.” His head drops like it’s too heavy to keep up anymore, and he looks at your hands, now intertwined over your lap.

“What I do know, now more than ever—“ He tightens his hand on yours. “—is that I am not going anywhere. You are it. No matter what, I’m right here. And I know you’ll… you’ll do what’s right, what’s meant to happen. Whatever you choose, I know you’ll be doin’ the right thing. I’ll be there, though, every step of the way. You gotta know that. Okay?”

“I know.” You blink up at him. You knew, somewhere deep down that whatever this was between you, it was too big and strong and consuming to be knocked down by anything. Even something as big as this.

“Alright, then.” He sighs, and both of you stare at your hands. “What’d you… the test. What’d you do with it?”

“There’s eight in the bin.” He smiles, and you can’t help but beam at the sight through your tears, slowly drying on your cheeks. “Other one is outside.”

“Keep one.” He says, his voice a little more gentle than before.

“Frank.”

“I know. Just… it’s a good luck thing. Whatever happens.” You look at him a while, trying to read into whatever that action, that little comment meant. Instead of breaking your already fried brain pulling it apart, you just lean over and grab one out the top, dropping it in your lap.

“You think this is good luck?” He shrugs, thumb drawing over your skin.

“Maria kept ‘em. Said it meant… I don’t know, something about the stars and shit. Good luck was the gist of it.” Your heart warms and cracks at the same time. You decide that no matter what happens, then, you’ll keep it forever.

“That’s sweet.” He looks up then, shaking his head. “It is.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re just a pile of mush under there, aren’t you?” Rolling his eyes, he reaches out and spins you around on the tiles, and in one quick motion your back is pressed against his chest, laughter bouncing off the walls as he holds you there.

When you settle in his arms, his hands slip down and rest on your stomach. It’s normal, and he does it constantly when you both lie like this. It’s where the angle of your bodies leads him to. But right now, it means something entirely different. Both of you look down to where his hands are, how his palms cover the sides of your hips and his fingers nearly frame around the centre of your tummy. Where it would be if you let it happen. Let this…happen.

“I’m scared.” You whisper, and he bows his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Me, too.”

“But… we can figure it out.” He nods, lips brushing against the sensitive spot on your neck under your jaw. His hands link over your stomach, and you feel a strange sensation— something like butterflies, but softer. Lighter.

You have no idea what you’ll do. A baby changes things. Everything. Even more so for you and Frank. It would shift every focus point, change every minute of your day, and blur your future to something muddy and confusing. But like Frank said, whatever you choose, you know it will be the right thing. And the most important thing, is that he will be there.

Right here.

Right behind you.

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