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xwritingdixonx · 3 months ago

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To Kiss or To Kill. | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: You and Daryl's relationship did not start kind. It did not begin as a friendship that turned sour over a quarrel. It began with fists and insults and continued this way until unforeseen circumstances leave you discovering that maybe Daryl and you were cut from the same cloth.

Warnings: rivals to lovers trope, daddy issues, language, descriptions of fights + bodily injuries, brief mentioning of homophobia, attempted SA, Reader is mentioned to be bisexual.

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison to Alexandria

A/n: This is not my proudest work and I definitely think I could've done better with the material but I hope it can still be enjoyed!

Song recommendations: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Ray, Daylight - David Kushner , Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

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A lemon is sour from the start and rots with age.

The relationship you shared with Daryl could be described as said lemon.

It was nearing the end of summer. And though this meant the end of scorching heat, the winter proved to be a difficult season for survival. This morning at the prison had begun like any other. Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn we’re set out on a run to find any supplies necessary for the growing community. With all the new folk after the fall of the Governor only a few weeks before, it put more pressure on the group in their endless searches.

The town in which the prison resided did not hold many options when it came to scavenging but there was one place not yet explored. Pike County High School, the only high school in the small town of Zebulon, Georgia. Daryl thought the plan was futile. What was he to find in a high school besides dusty textbooks and inappropriate drawings in the bathroom stalls?

But none the less, Rick sent the trio on their way with a list of items in hand.

The school was as Daryl expected. Papers were thrown about the floors. Windows were broken leaving glass shards to crunch underneath their boots. Desks and chairs were thrown about. And worst of all, there was an eeriness that loomed the chaotic halls. But there was something else hanging in the air, stillness.

Maggie banged her gun on the rusted lockers and waited for any walkers to make themselves known. But the silence that followed was so loud you could practically hear the wind gliding through the shattered windows. Daryl took it a step further and threw a chair down the hall, creating a loud clattering noise as it collided with the wall. Yet still, nothing.

"Alright," Glenn muttered, his uneasiness just as high as the others. "Let's get what we need and get the hell out." Glenn pulled the list from his pocket, "Daryl find the nurse's office, take whatever you find no matter how unimportant it seems. Rick asked us to find some good books for the kids." Glenn passed the list over to a very unamused Daryl.

"Guess I ain't smart enough to find some books."

Daryl walked the halls of the school, crossbow in hand, keeping his ears peeled for any movements that weren’t his own. The silence unsettled Daryl for two reasons. There could be someone residing here which would make sense with the absence of walkers. But he could not shake the thought that there were once children who roamed these halls. Kids who were Carl’s age now. Kids who were planning who they wanted to be, and what they wanted their lives to be. But now their dreams were just as grim as these empty halls.

He spotted it as his gaze wandered from the walls to the floor.

Droplets of deep red stained the tile, varying in size and opacity. Daryl dragged his fingers along the droplets, smearing the coagulated blood. The blood was not as dry as Daryl had hoped.

Daryl drew his bow closer to himself, resting his finger on the trigger, and slowing his steps as he followed the trail of crimson dots. They led him exactly where he needed to be, the nurse's office.

The wood door creaked open, the natural light from the windows lighting the room. The scene worsened in the room. There were now blood smears staining the floors, cabinets swung open and drawers left agape. Someone had obviously barged in in a hassle, with desperate need to help themselves.

What concerned Daryl was the adjoined room to the far left, he could not see into the area unless he approached it directly. Keeping his bow up, he proceeded. Just as the tip of his bow peeked its way around the corner, it was knocked from his hands with a single blow.

Daryl had not known what knocked his bow from his grasp but he sure as hell felt the hit to his jaw.

The punch you had thrown sent a throbbing through your right hand, and the tendons in your arm fizzled with the sudden force. The man reacted quickly, grabbing you by both arms and pulling you away from the wall you had been hidden behind.

You ripped an arm from his grasp quick enough to unsheathe the blade on your thigh. The struggle continued, both of you equally pulling at the other in an attempt for dominance while simultaneously avoiding the cut of the blade. Random objects clattered to the ground in the tussle, including an old coffee mug falling and shattering.

The wound you had acquired on your leg was not helpful in this situation. Had your adrenaline not been so high, you would have dropped long ago. While you struggled to keep yourself standing, Daryl was simply shocked at the brute force of the woman in his grasp.

You paused for a moment, your grip on your knife tightening until your knuckles turned white. Just then you were able to look at him. Daryl saw the determination in your eyes. And though there was determination, there also seemed to be a pleading.

But with one forceful shove, you fell back, your leg buckling under you and your head hitting a cabinet.

A painful gasp left you, feeling the poorly done stitches rip your wound open again. Dropping your knife, your shaking hands grasped at the wound on your thigh as you pulled your back up against the cabinets. Your chest heaved with a mixture of adrenaline and pain. The skin on your thigh seared hot, every nerve around the wound throbbing.

Had you been paying attention, you would’ve noticed the man grip up his bow that was now aimed at you. It gave him time to examine you. You did not look dirty and unkept as other survivors had. Your hair was pulled back into a messy braid at the back of your head. Clothes black, all the way down to your boots. Holsters for weapons hung from your hips and thighs. And a pair of dog tags dangled around your neck.

“Daryl!” Maggie and Glenn came rambling through the door, weapons drawn. Daryl held a hand up to them, signaling that he was fine. The school was not one of great size, it did not surprise Daryl that they’d heard the tussle.

With the arrival of two new faces, you made an attempt to grab the blade you’d drop. But Daryl was quick and kicked the blade away leaving your hand to smack against the tile floor. Now left with no weaponry and not even a stable body to defend yourself, you’d figured you’d start begging to them or praying to God.

“I-I just want to leave. I’m-“ The sudden sharp tingle in your thigh cut your words short. You clenched your jaw tight and shut your eyes waiting for the muscle spasm to pass. “You’re not going anywhere on that leg.” Maggie holstered her gun and met you on the floor. There was a hesitation to her but in her heart she knew leaving you would be a death sentence. “My daddy can help you.”

“Maggie…”

“Glenn.” Maggie’s tone was stern, sending her husband a threatening glare.

While Maggie began to ask you questions, she motioned for the two men to scavenge the room. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n…”

Maggie pulled a handkerchief from her back pocket, scooting even closer to you. She motioned for you to lift your leg, “I’m Maggie. That’s Glenn and then Daryl.” She slipped the fabric beneath it, tying it in a tight knot around your wound. You winced at this, resisting the urge to pull her hands off of you.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the question. Had you known you were meant to keep track, you would’ve started long ago. “I don’t…know…a lot?” Your words were stuttered and shaken considering the pain you felt. You saw the man you had just fought glance at you from the corner of his eye. You began to debate if you should feel guilt for attacking him.

“That’s okay,” Maggie gave you a kind smile, “How many people have you killed?” She watched your face falter and your eyes shift to the ground then back to her. “Eight, I think.” Maggie gently nodded, her tone becoming slightly more serious “Why?”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.”

Maggie’s eyes met yours and for a moment, while you held each other's gaze, there was an understanding. An understanding that only another woman could begin to fathom.

Your arrival at the prison was nothing short of chaotic. The run starting as three and returning as four, though a possibility, was not expected.

A man with a beard pulled Daryl aside beginning to hound him with questions, Maggie supported you as you stood while Glenn ran off shouting the name Hershel. Much of everything after that was blurry. You could remember the man with the white beard mainly due to his kindness and gentle touch while he took care of your wounds. And you remembered the name Rick being tossed about in conversation.

"Let her rest." Hershel patted Glenn on the shoulder, muttering him a thank you for his help.

You lay flat on your back, your head and leg propped up with a pillow. You could not say it was the comfiest bed you'd ever laid in. You weren't even sure it was cozier than where you slept the night before. You fought the tiredness away, unsure of falling asleep in an unfamiliar community. But the medicine Hershel gave you made you drowsy. And soon every muscle felt heavy and your eyelids heavier.

You were unsure of how long you'd slept, only being startled awakened by the clank of metal. Rick noticed his mistake immediately pulling his hand away from the door of the cell, now standing with a guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry. I forget how loud these things are." You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your beating heart. Rick entered the cell, opening the foldable chair Hershel had previously been sitting on.

"Was gonna drop these off for when ya woke up." Rick held up a glass of water and some type of protein bar. You adjusted yourself into a more proper sitting position, sending Rick a nod. As your mind awoke you became very conscious of your lack of pants, pulling the blanket farther up your waist. You were grateful that Ricks seemed to avert his eyes.

"I'm Rick.” His accent was noticeable.

“Y/n.” Just like your own.

“Maggie and Daryl told me a little bit about you but I wanted to speak with you directly.”

Rick held a certain type of authority to him. He spoke to you politely while still holding himself with dominance. A certain awkwardness became present when Rick spent a tad bit too long racking his brain for a question. “M’sorry about attacking, uhm… Daryl.” You decided to cut the awkwardness yourself.

To your surprise, Rick chuckled at your apology. “Please don’t apologize.” He looked at you, still with a smile on your face. “You were doing what you thought was right.” Rick shifted in the metal chair, resting his elbows atop his knees. "Did you serve?" Rick pointed to your neck, "Is that how you learned to fight?" You instinctively reached for the dog tags hanging from their chain.

"No no, they were my dads." You rubbed the smooth metal anxiously, feeling the indents of the letters and numbers imprinted. "I was an only child, only daughter at that, so my dad was rather protective of me... He had me in every boxing or self-defense class he could afford." A chuckle followed your words, reminiscing on the memory. Rick could understand your father's need to protect, having two children of his own.

"Rick." A gruff voice interrupted your conversation. The man named Daryl took up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, he seemed to falter under your gaze. He nudged his head in the opposite direction, asking for Rick to come with him. "Alright." Rick stood from the chair with an exasperated sigh, "Imma leave this right here for ya." Rick placed the water and protein bar on the chair in his place.

On his way out, he turned to you, "Maggie's gonna bring you up some clean clothes and help you get washed up. That alright?" His kind, yet tired, eyes sought an answer. You nodded and muttered a quiet thank you in return.

Your time in the prison since then could only be described as isolating. The injury on your leg kept you mostly restrained to the bed in your newly appointed cell. So, most of your time was spent with Maggie, Hershel, and occasionally Rick coming and going. Maggie cared for you in any way she could, nourishing you with food and assisting you in showering and changing. She had seemed to take a liking to you, as you did her, and you assumed you could now call her a friend.

However, there was another you don't think you could call much of anything.

Maggie helped you outside to the courtyard after you’d expressed that you were going mad looking at the same four walls. She’d left you with the book of Little Women, a blank leather journal, and a blue ink pen. “Holler if you need me, okay?” Maggie gently patted your shoulder before departing to meet Glenn only a few yards away.

Being outside after your imprisonment for the last 5 days, revived something in you. The heat from the sun's rays provided warmth on your skin but the cool breeze prevented you from overheating. You could not remember the last time you'd been outdoors without your head on a swivel or without the fear of being someone's dinner.

You could not focus on your book or your journal with the people who walked about the courtyard throwing glances your way. Everyone had heard about, the girl with the leg injury, with time. Random passers-by flashed you smiles, small waves, or even shy hello’s all of which you felt inclined to return.

“Y/n?” Though the voice was familiar, it did not stop the annoyance of having to put your pen down once again. You looked to the man, “Hi Rick.” Rick gleamed with a smile on his face “I’m glad to see you out here.”

Rick took it upon himself to take a seat at the table across from you making it obvious he desired to continue this conversation.

"Were you able to think about what we talked about?" Rick came by yesterday evening with a proposition for you. He invited you to join in with the group of people who went on runs for the community. Once you were fully healed, of course.

The only downside to this was who your main run partner was to be, Daryl. Rick saw something between you that you weren’t quite sure you saw yourself.

Daryl felt a wave of awkwardness standing behind Rick as he spoke to you. The same awkwardness he felt only a few days before standing in that doorway. Daryl knew of Rick's plans having been talked to about it only a few hours before.

He felt no need for a run partner. He was perfectly fine going about on his own but Rick thought the opposite.

What if something happens to you?

What if you get stuck somewhere?

We can’t afford to send search parties out for you.

All valid arguments from Rick. But Daryl had no desire to hear any of it. His stubbornness made him deaf.

Daryl could very clearly see you now. Whatever dirt and grime washed away revealed a remarkable woman. Your hair appeared soft and your dark eyes almost sparkled with the sun. He could see the definition of muscles on your biceps, highlighted by the short sleeves of your shirt. How you composed yourself screamed confidence as if you knew you were too pretty for a world so ugly.

And it infuriated him.

“Yeah, I uh...I wanna help any way I can.” Rick seemed pleased with your answer though the person behind him did not. You shifted in your seat, feeling Daryl’s eyes burn into you. In an attempt to redeem yourself, you spoke again, “If there’s anything I can do now, I want to.” Rick nodded at this, “We’ll find ya something.”

You could hear Daryl scoff from behind Rick. And though you tried to ignore it, you could not help the sour look you gave him in return. Daryl saw this as an invitation to continue his pronounced distaste.

“Don’t need someone who can’t walk holding me down.”

"Don't need someone who couldn't fight a girl holding me down."

Your response was quick-witted and more degrading to Daryl's masculinity than his insult to your injury. If you weren't mistaken, Daryl's eye twitched.

Rick stood from his seat to begin their exit, knowing the lengths of Daryl's temper. "You ain't nothing I couldn't handle." The chuckle you responded with and the glint of excitement in your eyes at the looming argument tested Daryl even more. "Sure, Daryl."

It was the first time you'd ever spoken his name to him. And he never stopped thinking of it for days to come. The way it rolled off your tongue and sounded with that southern twang. It left him restless at night and irritable during the day.

When your leg had healed and you'd grown tired of cleaning the library or serving daily meals, your first outing with Daryl was set. And it started just as rocky as it ended.

"Ya get bit, I ain't gonna hesitate to put a bullet in yer head."

"Why wait? I'm standing right here."

You remained quiet after that, not wanting to push the tension even more. But even the simplest of questions left Daryl huffing and puffing. It started with you asking how his morning was going. And it ended with you asking why he was such a prick.

It was a silent ride home.

You'd like to think you'd tried to find his good side in those beginning days but you soon began to question if such a thing even existed. Any time you were kind to him, he retaliated with anger. It brought out a certain type of frustration in you that you didn’t know was possible.

Within your time at the prison, you'd made yourself an esteemed part of the community. You used your [now useless] degree in agriculture to help build the gardens and begin the planting of any seeds you could find. Rick took a heavy trust in you and appointed you a seat on the prison council. And you'd shown your skills in scavenging, even when you had Daryl breathing down your neck.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when this whole charade started. Perhaps it had started in the nurse's office, in the courtyard, or on your first run together. But it did not matter where it began because there was one thing for sure, there seemed to be no end.

You both had a hold over another, in a way no one else did.

Daryl hated your confidence because he lacked his own. He hated that you were quick to go toe to toe with him. Because many others were too scared. He despised that you were so smart, a college graduate. And he especially hated when you spoke so highly of your father. Because he didn’t have a father to talk about at all.

But there was always a ting of something in all of his hate. Jealousy.

You hated his ego. You hated the fact that he contradicted everything you said. You hated when he called you names. Princess, he’d say or, miss college graduate. You hated that he never even tried to get to know you; to know that you weren’t this pretentious brat he painted you to be. Despite being with each other on a regular basis, there was a lacking of personal connection.

Neither of you truly knew the other. Where did he grow up? Has he ever broken any bones? What was his favorite candy as a child? When did he have his first drink?

Daryl pondered the same of you. Who taught you to braid your hair? You spoke of your father but never your mother, what happened to her? Why the dog tags? Have you ever loved another?

It was a day familiar to all the others. Your hot morning tea whirled about in your mug, your feet gliding gently around the grounds of the growing garden. After all your laborious hours in the Georgia heat, it was gratifying to see the various plants take bloom. Knowing there'd soon be a garden big enough to feed the community gave you satisfaction and perhaps a sliver of peace.

"You comin' or what?"

And there goes another blissful morning pissed down the drain.

Your long braid fell from your shoulder to your back when you looked at the disgruntled man. "We might need to find you a new mattress." You made your way to him, shoving your mug into his chest, "You can't ever seem to find a good side to wake up on." He scoffed, involuntarily taking your mug. The two of you, along with Michonne and Glenn, were set out on yet another run. Not one of great importance nor would it take that long of time but nonetheless it was still time spent around him.

Daryl followed behind you as you continued your way back to the prison, mug still in hand. "Michonne and Glenn are waitin' while yer staring at some fuckin' bushes." It was your turn to scoff, "They're not bushes. It's food. And a lot of fucking work."

Oh, Daryl knew how much work it had taken from you.

In the weeks he'd spent out in the gardens, his eyes worked more than his hands. He couldn't not look. You wore a tank top every day with the same black gardening gloves and dog tags dangling from your neck. The muscles in your biceps were always highlighted from the hours of digging. The blistering sun always had you drenched in sweat leaving your skin constantly glossy. Words couldn't describe the way he felt when it was dripping down your neck and into the crevice of your breast.

He was outraged for the entire three weeks.

"Whatever."

The mug in his hand became very apparent to him. "When the hell ya give me this?" He now strode beside you, approaching the car at the gates. You smiled to yourself, "A while ago."

Daryl would have preferred to ride his bike to avoid being trapped in such a confined space with you. But it was, “A waste of gas” as Rick would say.

You weren’t exactly sure what Daryl had done. But he had particularly did you in today. So greatly that you almost walked home. Glenn had to beg you to come back. Perhaps it was the way he glared at you that threw you over the edge. So cold and hostile. Or the way he stepped all over your feet, cutting you off mid-sentence, always thinking that he was right. You were simply always wrong.

This particular run would change the trajectory of your relationship forever.

You and Daryl had split in the strip mall, deciding to cover more ground separately. The strip was usually overrun with a hoard of walkers but as of late, they seemed to be diminishing one at a time. It had become clear enough to begin digging at the stores it held. Some random clothing stores, liquor shops, a CVS pharmacy, and dead restaurants.

You were rummaging about the pharmacy, most of it already picked through.

Examining the bottle of prenatal vitamins in your hand for Maggie, you heard footsteps. Thinking it was Daryl you spoke. "It's not like these expiration dates even matter anymore." Blind to your danger, you turned to face him.

Before you were given time to react to the two strange men, you were grabbed by the back of your neck, pulling at the nape of your hair, a blade held to the side of your throat. The bottle dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. You grasped the man's arm attempting to keep the blade from your skin but you'd failed; cuts appeared on the delicate skin.

"Stay." The other man reached for your gun belt, unholstering your weapon and keeping it for himself. You kept your calm but your eyes widened with fear. "Scream and you'll die." The short man with the knife moved it away from your throat, his hand freeing your neck. The other man, who had taken your gun, now had it pointed at you.

It was loaded. You knew because you were the one who'd loaded it that very morning.

"Ya can't just come into the place we've worked so hard to clean up and start taking things...we need some form of payment."

"I have my bag." You offered hoping they would merely steal your things and go. Slowly, not taking your eyes off them, you moved your pack off your back. "There's food and ammo and other supplies." Your bag was snatched from your hands with haste. "Thank you." It wasn't genuine, just taunting.

"But that's not what we want." Their eyes looked at you more hungry than any walker. Once you realize what they meant, tears begin to blur your vision. You could feel them begin to come closer to you. Feeling helpless and too stunned to cry out for Daryl, you weren't sure if you should start fighting or begging.

Daryl heard your continuous screeches from down the way, dropping his bag of clothing. "Y/n!" His feet carried him to you swiftly. You cried his name shoving one man off of you from your pinned spot against the shelves. It was foolish of Daryl to begin shooting so wildly.

Luckily you moved to the floor in avoidance of the bullets, covering your head and blocking your ears.

You kept yourself crouched on the ground, deaf to what was happening around you. Until a hand grabbed your bicep and hoisted you from the ground, "Come on, we gotta go." For once you were relieved to see Daryl.

But you wouldn't be for long.

"We shouldn't have split up!" Daryl shouted. He was walking too fast for you to keep up, as he did at times. You trailed behind him stumbling your way over the branches and leaves in an attempt to make it back to the road with his bike. "You always got stupid fuckin' ideas!" Daryl's adrenaline was still pumping, too ignorant to think of you. He muttered to himself, “Course there was people, walkers don’t just clear out by themselves.”

He marched onto the blacktop.

"Ya talk big game just to not do nothing to help yourself." Daryl was angrily throwing the green brush off his bike, removing it from its hidden spot in the treeline. "Always talkin' 'bout yer daddy and what he did for ya." Daryl said this more to himself but it didn’t fail to reach your ears.

"Well, where was he now yuh?" Daryl turned around to face you, his chest heaving. Only to catch you in the midst of buttoning your pants. Guilt dreaded him.

You didn't care to hear his insults. And you had no desire to get on that bike and be so close to him right now.

"I.." Words couldn't find themselves in your mouth. All you could focus on was the way everything felt frozen yet moving at an intense speed at the same time. Daryl saw the way you struggled with yourself.

There was a twisting pain within your chest as your panic only grew. "Y/n." Daryl put his frustrations aside, the situation becoming clear to him now. He swallowed down his pride and reached a hand out to you. Before his fingertips could even graise the fabric of your shirt, you took a step back. "No." You spoke gently, looking out to the woods instead of to Daryl; all you could fathom now was the desire to escape.

"Y/n," Daryl repeated more soft, "We gotta go home."

"I don't want to." You turned back to him abruptly. He could see the tears irritating your eyes. Where your hands lay across your chest, you could feel your rapid heart.

"Why not?" Daryl couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to go home. It was safe, it was comfortable. Two things you desperately need right now.

"I can't, I…I can't get on the bike right now." Your frustration with yourself was growing.

Why couldn't you just get on the bike?

Why couldn't you breathe?

Why didn't you listen to Daryl and not split up?

Why was Daryl being so kind to you suddenly? Was it pity? You hated pity.

"Alright." Daryl watched the tears begin to roll down your cheeks. "We can walk, it's alright." There was no way of making it back to the prison on foot before sundown. Daryl knew this. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for you.

Daryl gripped the handles on his bike, walking the heavy machine down the road with you in tow. You were seemingly able to calm yourself down. The only thing remaining now was shame. You were embarrassed that Daryl had seen you so vulnerable. And you were even more embarrassed that he had to save you.

All the countless years felt wasted. All that time spent in the ring or on some thin gym mats. All those tireless nights where your father wouldn’t allow you to rest until you got one more. It was a phrase all too familiar.

You knew Daryl was annoyed having to walk, his huffs and buffs gave it away. The sun was beginning to set. "Daryl we can drive." You tried to persuade for the third time. "S'fine."

"Daryl, it's getting dark."

"S'fine!" He shouted back frustrated with the disappearing sun. You stopped in your tracks. "I know somewhere we can sleep."

You could hear the soft sounds of the water flowing down the river bed. The moon allowed a glow onto the water, gleaming with the current. Crickets and cicadas chirped in the night air like music to your ears. Despite the struggles of being in the wilderness alone, nights like this made you miss it.

"What ya doin' over there?" Daryl asked sitting a few feet behind you at the fire. "Nothing."

You pushed yourself from the ground, making your way back to him. Daryl bitterly smoked his cigarette. You didn't need to ask to know why he was so irritated, you could already imagine. Perhaps catching the fish for dinner was what did it. Or the hundreds of pounds of metal he walked for miles. Or maybe he actually was mad about having to save you. Or the simple fact that he was stuck out here with you.

You couldn't pick one.

No words were spoken, just the sounds of the wilderness and the crackling of the fire. It allowed you to think.

You began to wonder if you'd ever actually hated him. Because how could you hate someone you'd grown such an attachment to? How could you hate the person you screamed out for in your time of need? There were countless days where he'd anger you so much you thought you might actually strangle him. But somehow you always went right back. You always met him at the gates or stumbled upon him at breakfast.

Staring off into the fire you began to accept that you all along had been trying [and presumably failing] to win him over. "You okay?" Your eyes looked from the fire to him. His cigarette no longer present, "M'fine." You replied.

Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you. Just because he didn't care for you at times, didn't mean he doesn't care about you. "It happened a couple times out on the road. I could handle it then...I just..." You shifted where you sat, "Got surprised today was all." To hear this wasn't the first time but a time of many, gutted Daryl.

You had become more afraid of encountering a man than a walker.

Daryl was never angry with you. He was more angry with himself, unable to protect you from finding yourself in such a situation.

"Wasn't yer fault. M'sorry." Shockingly, Daryl's guilt overshined his ego.

You let out a deep sigh looking back out towards the water. You knew his apology was sincere but you couldn't find the courage to acknowledge it. "I was just thinking about how I miss it out here sometimes. The sounds, the views, the peace."

Your confidence and sharp tongue did not seem present at this moment. Looking back to him, he seemed completely entranced by this newfound gentle side of you. "But that's only one percent of it, isn't it?" Daryl never took his eyes off yours, the fire casting an orange glow within them. "Yeah."

The other ninety - nine percent was the actual survival. All the bloody fights. The permanent anxiety. The sleepless nights due to fear. The painful emptiness of your stomach. The constant blisters on your ankles [that never healed] from running or walking. And the unbearable hopelessness.

"Were ya always alone?" Daryl had always been curious. You shook your head, "No." He nodded his head and looked away, leaving it at that. He had no desire to make your night even more miserable by talking about the ones you'd lost.

"It was just me and my brother for awhile."

"Meryl?"

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows knowing he'd never mentioned him before.

"Maggie's talked about him briefly."

"All nice things?" Daryl asked sarcastically.

"Not really." Your attempt to stifle your laugh was a failure, the smile lingering. But this did not anger Daryl the way you thought it would. Instead, he had his own small smile, scoffing and shaking his head. "He wasn't the best at times...but he was my brother ya know?"

You nodded muttering a, yeah.

Daryl flicked the butt of his cigarette into the dying fire. Knowing this was the first and potentially last time you'd ever speak to another so tenderly again, you continued.

"I was an only child. My mom died in childbirth when I was eight…so I never got siblings."

"M'sorry."

"Don't." You didn't say it to be cruel. You grew up hearing sympathy after sympathy, you did not need anymore. "I was never alone though. I had my Dad. And my aunt and uncles helped take care of me so I was surrounded by my cousins all the time...I guess I did have siblings in a way." A nauseating wave of nostalgia rose in your throat, silencing you for a mere second.

"My mom died when I was young too. 'Cept my Dad was just some drunk asshole, didn't care 'bout nobody but himself." Daryl couldn't deny his slight envy towards you. You grew up with a father who cared for you and your safety. It made him wonder how you'd ended up alone in the end.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't need yer apologies Y/n."

"I know."

The fire was no more. Only red hot embers burning on the rocky gravel. And it made you think that perhaps it was symbolic that the fire was slowly diminishing as your conversation grew more gentle.

A few minutes of silence had passed before either of you spoke again. "Look at us, talking to each other, treating each other like human beings for once." You joked with a laugh in an effort to replace the depressing mood.

You actually heard Daryl chuckle even though he lowered his head in an attempt to hide it. His eyes glanced at you, your own cheeky smile dimpling your cheeks. If this is what having a personal connection with Daryl was, it was dangerous.

Why did it take so long?

Was what you wanted to scream at him.

I could've loved you if you'd just given me a chance.

"Maybe we have more in common than we ever allowed."

Daryl broke eye contact with you, staring down at the glowing embers, chewing on his bottom lip. And he did the only thing he ever learned how to do when he felt something. "Night Y/n."

You didn't know why you expected anything different.

"Goodnight Daryl."

Daryl took his vest off, rolling it up and using it as a makeshift pillow. He turned away from you, his back tauntling in your face.

You stayed up a little while after, too overwhelmed by thoughts to rest. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl could not rest either. In fact, he did not sleep that entire night, only allowing himself ten-minute naps here and there. The only sense of relaxation he felt was when he'd check over his shoulder and see you in blissful sleep. As if nothing and no one had ever touched you.

When Rick asked what'd happened, Daryl lied. Saying you'd been outrun by a hoard and had to crash somewhere safe for the night. The days continued on, and what happened that day was not spoken of again. But there had come an understanding that Daryl and you were indeed, more in-common than ever allowed.

Patrick approached Daryl and you at breakfast as you mapped the run for the next morning. "H-hi!" Patrick greeted sheepishly, giving a small wave to the table. Maggie and Glenn greeted him first. Then you, pulling your attention away from the map on the table to him; giving a polite smile and nod. "Hey Patrick, everything okay?" Rick asked from where he sat beside Daryl. "Yeah..." Patrick was nervous on his feet, awkwardly pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "I wanted to ask Daryl and Y/n if I could join them out there?"

There was suddenly a stiffness in the air. Glances were exchanged between the lot of you. "Patrick I-" Rick scratched his beard awkwardly, finding a response for the boy. Patricks's confidence plummeted. He had spent hours building up the courage to ask, only to be met with stiff glances.

"How old are you Patrick?" It was an odd question for you to ask but it did not come without reason. "Uhmm fifteen."

You rose from your seat making your way over to him as gently as your feet would allow. Come, you spoke gently reaching an arm out to him.

Patrick began to walk with you.

"I was younger than you when my father began to enroll me in fighting classes…a short time after my mother died.”

Pausing your words, you continued your stroll until you stopped just before hitting the grass. "He told me that you could never be too young to be prepared for what the world was to through at you...What does that mean to a little girl who only wanted to play with her Barbies?"

Patrick listened to you intentively, entranced by the way you spoke.

Looking out to the green gardens, you seemed lost in thought for a second. "I don't think your question is outrageous. I just don't think you're prepared." Patrick seemed to understand this answer more, nodding his head.

You knew the day would come when the prison folk grew tired of looking at the same walls and more curious about the world beyond. Especially the children. You'd seen the group of kids over by the fences, close enough to look at the walkers but far enough away for safety. It was often that they were scolded by the adults.

"I know I’m not a fighter. I’m not like you or Daryl or even Carl. But I just wanna…” Patrick paused, “be brave for once.”

You couldn't help but smile at the innocence of the boy.

"You can't go out there knowing nothing Patrick." He had finally begun to accept defeat but the long face and disappointed eyes tugged at your sympathy.

"I can teach you. Just as my father taught me." Patrick's eyes lit up with hope. "Th-thank you Y/n." He gleamed with excitement, reaching a hand out to shake yours. You were truly at a loss of words with no choice but to shake it in return.

You'd spent day after day out in the field with Patrick. You taught him how to block blows, how to hold and use daggers, and much more. He was skittish and shaky most days but he was trying. In place of your days with Patrick, you were skipping your usual days with Daryl. You truly hadn't thought he'd mind much. If anything, you assumed he'd be happy to finally have a break from you.

"I feel like this wouldn't hurt that bad." Patrick commented. Carl was punching the book Patrick held, having begun to invite himself to the practices. Thick index books were the closest thing you'd find to a punching bag. You chuckled, "It hurts more than you'd expect."

Daryl approached the three of you. You could hear his footsteps. You’d recognize them even in the dead of night. They were gentler than normal as if he wished to not disturb. "It hurts more if you have rings on." Patrick looked at you curiously, "Did you used to wear rings Y/n?" You nodded happily. "All the time.”

You turned to finally face Daryl. "Hey." You greeted, taking the last few steps to meet him. "Hi." Daryl looked about, chewing on his bottom lip. "You ain't been showing up for runs." It almost, almost, sounded as if this upset him. "I've been here," you motioned to the young boys, "You know that."

Daryl nodded.

Of course he knew. He saw you every day, always wanting to come over and join but never allowing himself to.

"You really serious 'bout all this?" Daryl nudged his head to Patrick and Carl. You let out a deep sigh. You asked yourself the same question. Was this serious? Did you really plan on taking a kid outside the gates? There was a chance this was all for nothing at all. But what you did know was that it kept your mind at peace and your days busy.

"I don't know. I thought we could at least take him down to the river. It's nice down there, it's not far, would get him outta here for a few hours."

The river.

"Alright."

You sat alone at dinner that night, needing quiet time after hanging out with teenage boys for the majority of your day. You poked about your rice and veggies, still working on the copy of Little Women. "Hey." Daryl greeted. The day was growing late, the sun beginning to disappear from beneath the trees; he'd presumably just gotten back.

"Hi." You looked from your page, secretly happy he was giving you an excuse to put it down. Daryl's eyes looked anywhere but your own. "I-uh...got something for ya." Daryl dug into his front pocket, grabbing the handful of metal. He placed the rings on the table, making their own clattering noise together as they fell.

You seemed bewildered at this. "What...uh." Daryl chewed nervously on his thumb. He'd searched through this town and the next to find them for you, rummaging through old antique stores and dusty jewelry boxes. Picking out the ones he thought you’d like; which could mean nothing at all. “You didn't have to."

"S'fine." You nodded, the smile finally creeping it’s way to your features. "Thank you, Daryl." You were flattered. Flattered to think that for once, he'd actually listened to you. "Do you wanna go get dinner and come sit?" You offered.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

A certain closeness was growing. The arguments slowly became banter. And the war of dominance diminished. You began to work together as partners, mapping runs and brainstorming improvements for the prison. Instead of using your skills against each other, you’d began to find the perfect balance between.

Daryl joined you most days with Patrick. He found that he had no desire to go beyond the gates unless you were in tow.

There were moments when sheer frustration retook hold of you. But never did it reach the lengths as before. It came with reason, with a pleading, instead of merely arguing of who was right and who was wrong.

You turned the rings on your fingers about as you walked to the dining area outside. Daryl was a ways away, smoking his morning cigarette. “Morning.” You greeted, crossing your arms and taking your spot beside him. “Morning.”

The end of summer was near, mornings were chillier than usual but days still hot from the sun. There was a curtain of peace over this particular morning. The smell of Daryl’s cigarette filled your nose along with the morning dew. His presence comforted you. “I think it was around this time last year when you guys picked me up.”

Daryl blew the smoke from his lips, “Yeah, biggest mistake ever.” He joked. This earned a laugh from you. Daryl watched the joy on your face; it scrunched your eyes and accentuated the apples of your cheeks. “Yeah, I bet.”

He couldn’t take his eyes from you and a heaviness weighed within his chest. Because he knew, just as you did, that it was not only friendship lingering. It was more.

“I think I’m gonna go out, make sure the path to the river is clear.” Daryl knew what this insinuated. “We’re taking him out today?” Daryl had begun to hope that all of your time with Patrick was nothing, that it was merely something to fill up the days. “It feels like a peaceful day…” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Besides, Patrick’s not been feeling good, I doubt he’ll even want to go. It’s the effort that means something to him.”

Hmm, Daryl hummed. You nudged your elbow into him, “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?” Daryl hummed in response again. “D…” You nudged him again as if needing a more reassuring answer for your verbal contract. The nickname perked his ears and heated his cheeks. Looking to you, he nodded.

You gave him a thankful smile. “Be safe!” Daryl shouted to you as you began on your way.

Arriving back to the prison you could feel within your gut that something was wrong. The sympathetic eyes that Michonne greeted you with solidified this.

Daryl recognized your footsteps entering the cell block.

“What's happened?" Daryl rushed to stand in front of you, blocking your path. It was eerily silent. “Come on.” Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders trying to turn you away. You shoved his hands from you, slipping past him.

"Y/n.” Daryl could not stop you from continuing on. Your expression was stuck in a state of confusion and shock as your feet guided about the chaotic cell block. It smelled of metallic blood and bitterly sour. Almost as though you'd stuck your nose in a gaping infected wound. When you'd turned your head to glance into a cell, you saw him.

Patrick lay still on the ground, an arrow lodged in his skull. An airy gasp left you, clutching your hands to your chest. It was as if you couldn't take your eyes away. Your eyes still not yet communicating to your brain what you were looking at. But when it did, the only thing you could seem to focus on was the arrow. An arrow.

Daryl watched the realization settle on your features when you turned to him. For once, Daryl felt a sense of fear. And it only worsened when you began towards him.

It was as quick as a breath. You unsheathed the dagger on your hip and aimed it at him.

"Y/n no!"

Daryl caught your wrists, the blade mere inches from his right eye. Though he stopped the blade, your brute force did not stop him from being shoved into the closest wall.

"I told you to look out for him!" You yelled through your glassy eyes.

He had no words for you, pure guilt blocking any defense or insult.

"I had to." You scoffed at this, "I can't trust you to do anything."

"Y/n it's not his fault. It was an accident." Rick reasoned with you.

With his back pressed against the wall, he had fully submitted himself to your wrath. His guilt would let you kill him now if you'd like. His hands around your wrist did not hurt nor squeeze to withhold your strength, they began to merely rest there.

Your rapid breathing began to slow to deep inhales and exhales, ones that moved your entire chest. Your eyes remained steady on his, the world drowning out around you.

While his eyes showed remorse, yours burned with anger; eyebrows furrowed, hot tears slipping down your cheeks.

With one forceful shove, you ripped your arms from Daryl's grasp, his back bumping the cement wall. The dagger made a clattering noise to the floor, having been lost from your grasp in the process. You stood there for a moment looking to Daryl as if waiting for something.

"M'sorry."

His apology only seemed to anger you, your face once again turning hateful. You took a few steps back before making your exit.

When time came to take care of the ones lost, you helped dig their graves; in defiance of everyone telling you not to. Your hands covered in splinters from the blistering wood of the shovel’s handle. The once thriving and growing prison become melancholy, a heavy cloud of sorrow always above.

You and Daryl had not spoken for days. You'd ditched any planned runs that had been scheduled. But without fail, Daryl waited every morning for you, on the off chance you'd join him again. And when you never did, he kept an eye on you from afar.

You had become quiet and distant. He seemed to only find you chatting with Maggie or Glenn and on the off chance, Rick. You were on fence duty every day presumably taking out every bit of anger on those poor dead bastards.

You'd been out there day after day, nothing but water in your system, running off of pure spite and grief. You'd be out there till your adrenaline wore off and your body gave up on itself from exhaustion. If Daryl wasn't mistaken he had spotted you crying on some days; but that bloody pipe never left your hands.

You had begun to wake up earlier than Daryl, always managing to slip away from him just in time. You ignored him at every meal and walked by him as if he was a ghost.

Daryl couldn't deny the itch of missing you. He longed for you to look at him again, to smile at him and call him names. He began to even miss when you yelled at him, as cruel and loud as you could be.

Daryl couldn't continue on like this. You were torturing him.

He had awoken particularly early this day, ensuring he was in the kitchen long before you; knowing you never skipped your morning tea.

Exhaustion was all you could feel. Your body raged against your decisions every day. Your arms were sore, hands red and raw from gripping the damn pipe so hard. But you could not allow yourself to be around him. You couldn't stand to be trapped in those cells, indulged with pity.

Wrapping the strap of the fingerless gloves around your wrist, you wandered into the kitchen. Glancing up, you saw him, stopping your steps. The kitchen was dark on this early morning, the sun not yet fully risen.

Every thought Daryl had vanished from his mind. Every speech he'd rehearsed or apology left him in an instant. He hadn't known seeing you face to face, alone, would leave him so breathless. Daryl could see your exhaustion even in the dim light. Your usually neat braid had been done in haste, it was sloppy and hairs fell messily into your face. The constant emotional distress dragged on your features.

"I had to see ya."

You crossed your arms over your chest, closing yourself off from him. "So you just waited for me here." Your tone was venom to him. Daryl swallowed sharply, second-guessing his actions. "Ya get yer tea every mornin'." It would be flattering to think he'd memorized your everyday routine if it was any other time. But you couldn't find that now.

"Was gonna go out..."

He wasn't. Daryl would only go if you were in tow.

You scoffed at him. Had he truly gone through all this effort just to ask you to join him on a sleazy run?

Your attitude hurt Daryl more than he'd like to admit. "Just wanted to see if ya wanted to come with me?"

You knew why he actually was here. Scratching the skin on your arm nervously, you said, "No Daryl."

“Why the hell not?” Your mouth dropped agape. Astonished at his mere audacity. “Why not?” You repeated back. Daryl looked at you blankly. Should he apologize? Or should he begin his stubbornness rant about all the ways it wasn't his fault? You shook your head, "You're pathetic."

The fire was lit once again.

You'd insulted his ego and his efforts to meet you here. But most of all, you'd insulted any feelings he'd developed for you.

Daryl's face switched from hurt to a hateful glare in a second. You didn’t care to continue on with him, turning and disappearing into the hallway. Daryl’s anger took hold of him as he rushed after you. “M’pathetic?” He followed after you, stomping like a child.

You ignored him, continuing on, letting the door slam in his face when you exited outside. Daryl following suit in your path did not falter. Carol and Rick turned their attention to the commotion.

Daryl and you spewed insults at each other. You'd reached down in yourself, past the grief and guilt, and pulled any degrading thing you could manage to say to him. And he did the same. No words you said could possibly cut him as deeply as his actions cut you.

"I shoulda left ya out there!"

"Yeah I wish you fucking would've..." You took a step closer to him. "But you couldn't because you fucking needed me."

"I don't need you."

"You fucking need me." You repeated.

"Yeah? Then you need me!"

"I don't fucking need you! I never needed you."

Daryl lowered his tone, narrowing his eyes. He was mere inches from your face, your foreheads almost touching. “Ya didn't need me out there, hm?" He watched your furrowed eyebrows falter. Daryl knew he was crossing a line but couldn't find it in his heart to stop. "Where was yer daddy that day, yuh?"

Your glassy eyes looked up at him attempting to form your own degrading insult. "What? Say it, come on say it Y/n." He egged you on.

You only think about yourself, just like your father.

But you refrained, swallowing your words along with your tears. "Fuck you." Daryl watched you walk away, wiping at your face. "Fuck you!" Regret dreaded him. He watched as you continued on, your body shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and tears. He could have run after you then, apologies spewing from his mouth but his stubbornness kept him still.

The prison fell that same day.

Amid chaos and destruction, Daryl could only find himself to look for you. And when he finally accepted defeat, he could only pray that you'd made it out.

You had fled on your own. Fighting your way through to return to the comfort of the wilderness. After a few strenuous days on your own again, you'd found Carol and Tyreese; joining them with the girls. The blisters on your feet had returned as did the heaviness deep in your chest.

You thought about him more than you'd like to admit. And Carol did her part in reminding you of him on the daily. You'd begun to dwell on how you'd treated him in those final days. You’d denied yourself the comfort of his company. You urned for him to be gentle to you once again. To speak to you so deeply and sincerely as he had before. To comfort you amidst your grief. All the draining nights of crying yourself to dehydration, you desired for him to be there.

You’d never been hugged by Daryl but in your mind, his touch would’ve healed a thousand gaping wounds.

"I regret it deeply now." You'd say to Carol.

"I'm sure he feels the same." She'd respond.

A longing for your life to return as it was among those prison walls struck you down every hour of every day. The wish to go back to that morning and accept his offer. To take his hand and go beyond the walls. Maybe one more day together would’ve fixed everything. And you wouldn’t be left with the guilt of leaving things off on a bad note; never to see him again.

The smoke rose above the tree line, only making you more anxious. With Tyreese and Judith safely at the cabin, [or so you thought], you kept guard at the road. Keeping an eye for anyone making an escape.

Kill them if they weren’t one of us. Carol instructed.

But the sound of gunfire made you unsure of anyone’s survival. Fuck, you muttered to yourself out of frustration. You glanced constantly down the road and amongst the trees, hoping for a familiar face.

You turned your last surviving ring anxiously about your finger. A rustle in the woods grabbed your attention. You gripped your gun closely in your hands, stepping towards the tree line. When it was deemed clear, you continued on, your boots crunching on the leaves.

Your ears perked at a sudden snap of a twig. Whipping your body around, you pointed your gun.

Daryl aimed his bow to you, the tip of your weapons mere inches from the other. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were tired, his face bruised. But you couldn't say you looked any better.

Both your fingers lingered over your triggers, though neither of you would shoot. Daryl lowered his bow. Looking at you with teary eyes. You lowered your own weapon, looking to him with the same unsure gaze. There seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you had the energy to fight. Daryl wanted to reach out to you but the looming fear of rejection didn’t allow him. "Y/n?" Maggie snapped you from your daze. “Maggie?” You rushed to embrace her, discarding Daryl.

The weeks spent on the road proved to be difficult. Everyone grew more hopeless by the day and this hopelessness only grew when it became loss after loss. There was no time to heal from one loss before having to mourn another. First Bob, then Tyreese, and then Beth. You’d glued yourself to Maggie after Beth just as she did for you after Patrick.

Daryl mourned Beth in private. You wanted to be there for him, to provide him a shoulder to cry on. But he’d shut you out, just as you’d done to him. And besides, you never even tried, too focused on Maggie to consider it more than a thought.

You and Daryl had become strangers once again. There was no room for forgiveness, no time to spew apologies to each other, and no space to coddle each other through the pain.

Alexandria came to the suffering group, shining a new light of hope and a more secure future.

But this meant you could not hide from him anymore nor him you. The known could no longer be left unspoken.

You’d slipped away from the main house to the house next door that belonged to the group but was yet to be used. Daryl was first to notice your absence, asking where you’d gone so late. When he was told, the urge to follow after arose.

The front door was left unlocked, allowing Daryl entry. “Y/n?” The house was dimly lit, an amber glow looming from across the room. Daryl saw your figure sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. A liquor bottle sat atop the coffee table reading, Honey Whiskey, along with an empty glass seemingly for him. The other was in your hand, resting on your thigh. He couldn't help but think how perfectly you the liquor was; bitter yet soothing and sweet.

Daryl didn't know what told him to sit beside you but he did not resist the urge.

Nothing was said, the both of you staring off into the gas-lit flames. Your eyes studied the fake logs that were engulfed by flames, comparing it to how real wood burns. Daryl craved for you to speak to him. He didn't care if it was hurtful. Any words, cruel or no, were better than this silence. "Y/n..."

"I forgive you." Daryl went still. You hadn't given him time to breathe.

"What?"

Just then you turned, your freshly cleaned hair falling over your shoulder. The fire cast a glow on your features; highlighting the bridge of your nose and emoting a sparkle within your eyes.

“I said I forgive you.” It was the gentlest tone you’d ever spoken to him in, almost a whisper.

“I don’t think I had reason to be angry in the first place. I was just trying to blame someone that wasn’t myself.” You reached forward, popping the cap from the bottle and pouring Daryl a glass. You handed it to him, along with a slight smile. It tugged at his heart.

“M’sorry…bout what I said that day. 'Bout your Dad...Wasn’t right.” Daryl swirled the liquor about his glass, wondering where you’d found it. You took a deep breath before speaking on, “My daddy disowned me.”

The dog tags around your neck suddenly felt as though they weighed fifty pounds. It was a burden you carried around your neck every day, hoping the weight would be lifted lighter if you just spoke highly. "Why?" Daryl couldn't help but ask. You hesitated, your mouth gaping but no words following. "Because I loved a woman." You flashed Daryl an insecure smile, unsure of how he'd react. "I lost her about a month before you guys picked me up. That's why I was alone."

Daryl felt a whirlwind of emotions hit him at once.

How many times had he thrown your father in your face like some jealous brat?

“I think I resented ya a lot. Thinking ya had a father that rolled out the red carpet for you." Daryl had found his own courage in a now empty cup. You took note of this, pouring more for him. "I know, D."

"M'sorry."

"I know that too."

After that, a soft silence fills the room. The two of you sit peacefully, content with the weight slowly lifting from the shoulders of your friendship. But there was another topic to relive before you could truly sweep up all of the choked-off fragments and furnish them with conclusions.

“Patrick uh…”

“Ya don’t gotta talk about that Y/n.”

“No, I need to.”

The liquor wasn’t persuading you to talk nor to act a certain way, you’d barely drank any.

A deep sigh left you and you rested your back against the couch. “Patrick talked about his parents a lot. He said that his mom wanted him to be brave…That’s why he wanted to go out, he said that he felt like a coward. He’d always been safe in Woodbury then the prison.” Your words were quick and shaken.

Daryl listened attentively, taking sips of the whiskey in hopes it would calm his mind. “He thought that if he went out, even once, he would be brave… like us.” You motioned to you and Daryl. A smile rose on your face. “He also just really wanted to impress you, he was so excited when you started joining us in the mornings.” You took a sip from your own cup finding strength in the liquid.

“I know you always thought it was silly but…Patrick reminded me a lot of my cousin. He was my best friend until my aunt moved to a different state. I promised to keep in touch but I started college, got distracted, and only saw him on holidays.”

Your words trailed as if unsure of what was to be said.

“Until he jumped off a fucking overpass.” You could feel Daryl’s sympathetic eyes looking at you. “In his note, he said he knew he was a coward but he couldn’t be here anymore.” Your lip began to quiver but you quickly covered it with a swig of liquor. Daryl was left to think while you choked your tears down.

"They were brave." Daryl said in hopes it would relieve some of your guilt.

You placed your glass on the table beside the couch. "And dead they are." The tears could no longer be drowned in whiskey. You covered your face with your hands. Your body trembled violently, sobs racking your chest. Daryl put down his own glass. “C’mere…c’mere please.”

Daryl scooted closer to you, grasping for you to meet him halfway. You met him gladly.

You gripped your arms around him tighter, resting your head on his shoulder. A deep sigh of relief left both of you, melting into the other's embrace. “You’ve never hugged me before." You commented with sadness, your words mumbling against the fabric of his shirt; now wet with tears. "I know. M’sorry.” He could hold you all night if need be, to make up for all the nights he hadn’t.

He smelled of pine from the soap he'd used to wash. But the familiar scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke could never be washed from his skin. At first, it annoyed you. You'd complain that the oil gave you headaches and scold him about his unhealthy habit. But now, no four walls of any house could provide you the safety and comfort of Daryl's broad figure.

You pulled away from him but your hands did not leave him. They dragged down from his back to rest comfortably in his own. Your soft skin caressed his calloused hands. Your forehead rested against his. He did not remove himself from you but merely looked down, avoiding your gaze. "Ya been drinking a lot Y/n, ain't in the right mindset right now." You shook your head, "No Daryl...”

Your nose bumped his own as you scooped your head down, capturing his lips in yours. You taste of the bitterly sweet liquor, your lips still slightly damp from the tears that fell only moments ago. He resists before giving in to his longest desires. It made his nerves feel fuzzy. “I love you.” Your words mumbled against his lips.

The kiss turned from gentle to desirable in time, lips moving in sync together. His hands moved to either side of your face, ensuring to keep you close. You began to lay back, hoping Daryl would follow. He was quick too, ensuring his body weight did not crush you.

Needing a moment to breathe, you parted from him. Your back relaxed against the plush couch all your tense muscles turning to putty beneath him. Daryl's head fell to your chest. He felt your own heartbeat, just as quick as his own. "Love ya too."

Daryl's hands freely wondered you. He gripped your thighs, feeling the jagged scar on your thigh through the thin pajama pants; remembering the day you met. "I fell down a hill." Daryl stopped his lingering hands, "What?" There was a ting of a smile on your face. His eyes sparkled with admiration. "I was fighting a walker and I fell downhill. I think I got stabbed by a tree branch or my own knife, I never knew." You admitted shamefully. Daryl dropped his head to your chest again, chuckling.

His laughter sent vibrations through you, triggering a laugh of your own. You bring your hand to the back of his head, stroking his messy brown hair. “Why don’t you stay here with me tonight?” Daryl lifted his head, the fire dimly lighting the right side of his face. He nodded.

"I'd like that."

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ashwhowrites · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I request Eddie x Dustin's cousin and miscommunication trope?

Eddie's seen her only a few times when gave Dustin ride (she'snew in town). And he's really enamored by her so he asks Dustin if he can investigate what's her type.

Dustin tells her that one of his friends thinks she's really cool and wants to ask her out. She asks if it's that cute guy with amazing hair and adorable smile who gives him a ride sometimes. He immediately thinks she means Steve, so he had bad news for Eddie.

He tells him about it and he replays "it's nothing I didn't expect. You should get to know them together. Steve's a good guy".

So one day Dusty bun and reader drives to Family Video and before they're get out of car he says something like "oh, look we're lucky. Steve has a shift today".

She replays "I don't see him, just this guy with big, funny hair"

"What? That's Steve"

"No, you said that this cute guy with pretty curly hair is Steve. You know, with a van"

And then Dustin understands his mistake... Do you think we can get happy end? 🙏🙏🙏

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Wrong name

Eddie had his eyes set on Y/N the second she honked her horn and demanded Dustin move faster. She was blaring music with her windows down. She was gorgeous, naturally and simply. But Eddie was more shy than he liked to admit and was too scared to speak a word in her direction.

A few weeks passed and she continued to pick Dustin up from Hellfire. Eddie loved getting small glances at her but he wanted to know more about her. Scared of rejection, he asked Dustin to poke around and find out her type. Eddie didn't have too high of hopes but he figured he had nothing to lose.

Dustin said goodbye to the group as he got in Y/N's car, Eddie gave him a nod and Dustin smiled back with a wink. Eddie was a little nervous to leave the fate of his love life in Dustin's hands.

Driving home, Dustin tried to think of a sly way to bring Eddie up. But he came up empty and decided to be honest.

"So I have a friend that thinks you are pretty cool, and attractive. He wants to ask you out but is afraid he isn't your type. What would you say your type is?"

Y/N blushed at the idea of someone wanting to ask her out. She only had seen two of Dustin's friends that were age-appropriate, so it slimmed down her guesses.

"Is it that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school?" Her voice sounded perky and Dustin could tell she was excited about the idea.

Dustin sighed sadly as she described Steve, he was a little scared to tell Eddie the bad news.

"Steve! You like Steve?"

~~~

"And then she described Steve, I'm sorry man," Dustin said, Eddie shrugged his shoulders and tried not to seem as upset as he was.

"Yeah, I figured she'd like someone like him. He's always complaining about being single so maybe you should set them up."

"Are you sure you are cool with that?" Dustin asked.

Truthfully, Eddie was not. He was more upset about it than he'd like to admit. He never had a conversation with the girl but felt torn apart that he didn't have a shot. He would probably want to poke his eyes out every time Steve made her laugh and kiss her.

"Totally."

~~~

"Your mom said it has to be PG so only look at PG" Y/N demanded as she parked the car. Dustin rolled his eyes as he got out. He looked inside the video store, and aside from the busy amount of customers he noticed Steve at the counter.

"Oh, it's your lucky day! Steve is working." Dustin teased, and Y/N was frantic upon hearing the name.

"You little shit, a little heads up that he works here would have been nice." Y/N groaned as she checked her appearance in her car mirror. She tossed around her hair and searched for lip balm in her purse. She coated her lips as Dustin waited impatiently.

Y/N accepted her appearance was the best she could do, and got out. She walked nervously behind Dustin as they headed into the store. But as she took in the large room, she didn't see Steve anywhere.

"Where is he? I don't see him." She said. Dustin told her he'd set them up since Steve liked her back. She hoped they'd get to talking and maybe he'd ask her out.

She wished she wasn't so nervous to talk to him and did it all the times she saw him while picking up Dustin. But she couldn't, her mouth went numb and all she could do was stare.

"Are you blind? He's right at the counter." Dustin expressed dramatically as he gestured towards the counter.

"I'm not blind. All I see is that tall kid with floppy hair." She crossed her arms as she glared down at the younger boy.

"What? That's Steve!" Dustin was confused and Y/N was too.

"No, you said Steve is that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school! He drives the van, and is in your little club." Y/N explained.

Dustin looked between her and Steve a hundred times before his eyes shot open.

"YOU LIKE EDDIE!" Dustin screamed, Y/N covered Dustin's mouth as she blushed. Her eyes were wide in fear as she looked around the store. Dustin unfortunately caught the attention of some people nearby who looked at him displeased.

Y/N removed her hand and Dustin apologized to those nearby.

"I think I created a tiny little problem." Dustin nervously laughed, Y/N glared and his laughter stopped.

"Explain."

"Eddie asked about you and I thought you liked Steve! So I told Eddie you weren't interested and he told me to set you up with Steve. And well, I told Steve I had a cousin who was interested in him...." Dustin trailed off with a big smile.

"Wait so, I like the guy named Eddie, and Eddie wanted to ask me out but he thinks I'm into that kid over there?" Y/N asked, her finger pointing to Steve as he flirted with a customer, horribly.

"Uh yeah! But I can fix this!" Dustin rushed out. "I just need a phone!" He ran to the counter and asked Steve for the work phone. Dustin dialed Eddie's number and waited for him to pick up.

"He's on his way so just wait outside," Dustin said, pushing her out the door.

"I don't want to stand outside and look desperate!" Y/N argued.

"But then you have to meet in front of everyone here! That's worse." Dustin fought back. Y/N sighed and agreed.

She waited against her car as she watched every car drive by. She could hear his van before she saw it. Her palms began to sweat, she took a deep breath and pushed off her car as his van pulled next to her.

Eddie got more nervous once he saw her. He was thankful it was a misunderstanding and he had a shot. He turned off his van and slipped out. He took a few deep breaths and walked over.

"Eddie right?" Y/N asked, her hand covering her eyes from the bright sun as she looked him up and down. She loved everything she saw. He was in a simple T-shirt, his arm tattoos dark against his pale skin. His signature black jeans are dressed up with chains. She bit her lip as she took in his face, his hair was pulled up into a bun so she could see every detail. His brown eyes shined from the sun as he squinted to look at her.

"Y/N, right?" Eddie replied, a smile on his face as she nodded.

"Sorry about Dustin. I guess that's what I get from letting a freshman set me up." Eddie joked. His heart fluttered as she laughed at his joke.

"Yeah, I think maybe we should call the shots from now on." She joked back.

"Smart girl," he smirked, "well we are at a movie store. What if we find one and maybe you can come to my place?" He walked closer, his arm leaning on the roof of her car as he leaned over her.

She wasn't sure if it was the sun or him that made her break out into a sweat. He angled his head to block the sun, her eyes fully open as she took him in. Now even closer, she already could tell he was a tease.

"Your place already? Is that how fast you move with all the girls?" Her head raised as she challenged him.

"Oh never! Just the ones that don't leave my mind even before I knew her name." He flirted.

"Well since you are so sweet with words, I'd love to watch a movie."

"It's a date, sweetheart." He reached up to softly rub her cheek. She tried to keep her breathing at a normal pace as she leaned into his touch.

Steve looked at Dustin as he waited for him to speak, the boy paced back and forth in front of the counter.

"Dude, just tell me!"

"you know that cousin I was gonna set you up with?" Dustin asked, a small apologetic smile on his face.

"Yeah," Steve said

"Wellllllll" Dustin started, he turned around to see Eddie and Y/N very close as they talked in the parking lot. Barely any space between their bodies. Anyone could read their body language and know they were flirting.

"That's her," Dustin said as he pointed.

"The one almost lip-locking with Eddie?" Steve scoffed

"Yeah! So my bad! See you tomorrow." Dustin said as he rushed out of the store.

"HENDERSON!"

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x henderson! reader #ashwhowrites

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jadedlavendergemini · 3 months ago

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“Babe! I’m here!” Eddie’s voice call from the front door.

You were currently in the kitchen trying to remove the cookies you were baking from the oven while at balancing your almost 12 month old daughter on your hip. “Kitchen, Eds!” You call out.

“Something smells sweet in here,” he makes his way into the kitchen, bending to face level with Olivia who grins back and then proceeds to smother her chubby face in kisses. “Oh and you made cookies! They smell good too.”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke. He doesn’t see as he raises his head back to yours and presses his lips to yours. You kiss him back and pull back.

“So where is it?”

“Sweetheart, you should really trust me more with the shopping.” He says, placing the shopping bag onto the counter.

You carry Olivia to her highchair and gently buckle her in. “Well, last time I sent you to the store for pie filling, I specifically told you Apple pie filling and you grabbed cherry.”

Eddie paused at your retelling, slowly raising his hands in defense. “All I heard was pie filling. I just assumed that it didn’t matter.”

“Of course it mattered! My dad is allergic to cherries, Eddie. You know that.”

“Okay well, most of the time I don’t fuck these things up. So are you ready to see it?”

You placed a few cheerios and sliced up fruit onto the highchair plate for your daughter and looked up at your husband who removed the small Halloween costume out from the bag and held it out the for you to see.

“Eddie what is that?” Your hands dropped to your hips when you realized what you were looking at. It certainly didn’t look like the one you had described to him before.

“It’s Liv’s costume! Just look babe! She’s gonna be the cutest, heavy metal rocker ever! I even got a little inflatable guitar!”

You really tried to hide the frustration that was clear in your features as you stared at your husband.

Taking a deep breath, you move forward a few steps towards him, who still looks excited about the costume and ignoring your look.

“Eddie,” you say, irritation clear in your voice. “That’s not the right costume. You were suppose to get her the bumble bee costume, remember?”

Eddie goes still as he tries to remember the conversation you two had from earlier this week. “Well, I thought- wait, I’m sorry why did she have to be a bumble bee exactly?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose with your eyes shut. “Because Nancy told me she’s dressing Becca as a lady bug and we thought it would be cute for Liv to be a bumble bee.”

Eddie scoffed. “It’s No big deal, okay? Maybe she can be a little bumble bee next year?”

“Eddie, she won’t be able to fit that costume by next year.” You argued, turning away from him and tried focus on your daughter who was happily eating her fruits and cheerios.

“Well I guess we could-.” Eddie replies, checking the small digital watch on his wrist. The store would be closing in about twenty minutes. Now he knew he would be in deep shit. “Alright let’s not panic, I have an idea.”

You look at Eddie with a questioning gaze, but before you can even get an answer out of him, he’s flown back out through the door of the trailer. Leaving you and your daughter in the kitchen.

You let out a sigh as you move to place a few more cheerios on the highchair plate. “He better come up with a brilliant idea.” Olivia just giggles in return.

A few hours pass as you and Eddie are walking hand in hand, with little Olivia tucked into your hip. The streets were filled with children running around from house to house with the challenge of collecting the most candy.

You were just thankful that she wouldn’t have to worry about all the sweets that would later cause cavities and unaffordable visits to the dentist at such a young age. You and Eddie agreed that she could have one piece, but not too much. And that would be her first Halloween treat.

You can feel your husband’s hand lightly squeezing yours as your small family continues to walk. But before you could move your head to face him, you hear his voice.

“Listen, sweetheart, you were right.” His voice low. “I should have double checked with you before buying that costume. I’m an idiot, I know.”

You just roll your eyes. “You’re not an idiot, Eds. But I really would like for you to just make a list of what you need whether it’s for the grocery store or a costume store. That way we don’t have these issues.”

The metal head just nods, understandably. “So, you’re not mad mad, right?”

You shook your head. “Not as mad as I should to be, it’s partially my fault. I could have gone out to grab the costume myself and had you watch Liv.”

The two of you were interrupted by a familiar voice. “Is that our little Miss Munson?!”

Olivia is now squealing with excitement, trying to escape your tight embrace. Slowly, you set her down on her feet and watch as she wobbles with full speed into the arms of Joyce.

Joyce and Jim decided to spend Halloween at home, handing out candy and looking forward to see their granddaughter (yes Jim and Joyce finally tied the knot!) pass by.

Joyce gathers the little “Munson Munchkin” (Jim’s nickname for his granddaughter) into her arms for a tight little embrace and pulls her gently back at arms length to inspect her costume. “What do we have here?”

“It looks like, um,” Jim was also having a hard time figuring it out. “She’s, uh, Y/N what is your daughter suppose to be?”

“Well as you can see,” Eddie chimed in. “She is a rockstar with-“

“Bumblebee wings.” You finished off. The looks they gave you weren’t what you were expecting but hey, it wasn’t negative.

“Oh,” Joyce still looks confused but still manages a smile. “So she’s a heavy metal rockstar and bumblebee hybrid?”

“Yep, that’s right.” You replied, trying not to meet you father’s confused look.

“Well she’s just the cutest!” Joyce smothers more kisses onto the toddler’s cheeks.

You look to Eddie who beams that familiar smile of triumph. That same smile that always makes you forget any argument or reminds you of just why you love him.

———————————————————————————

I would like to thank @lovelythoughtfulcupcake for reminding me about this one shot I had saved in my drafts! Hope you all like dad!eddie!

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader

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hwaslayer · 2 months ago

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wildfire (cs) | six.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 10.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, sorry if i missed anything i had to quickly edit in order to get this out lol, san x oc finally talk a little more abt each other - family - friends, small affectionate gestures and kisses, yes we have finally made it my friends… the sleepover where we discuss neuroscience papers!!!! lmao jk 😭 was not lying abt the true crime aspect tho (i fear i know nothing else), san also opens up a bit more about iseul, making out, neck kisses, breast play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some clit play i guess!!, aftercare, cuddles

You decide to go to dinner with San, but the decision comes incredibly last minute. You've paced around your studio, sat on your bed for hours, going back and forth between a simple yes or no. Until, you finally realized you truly didn't wanna miss out. You felt like you'd regret it if you didn't just go to see what it'd be like.

Harmless.

Eunchae and Jurin are gone for the weekend for other family commitments, but you still find yourself having to make up some sort of scenario for the boys in case they come barging in while you're getting ready. You tell them that you're spending the afternoon with your mom and that you'll be back later tonight in case they wanna come over and hang out. Boys being boys— they don't pry much and leave it at that.

You let out a breath just after you end the call with Jiung and set your phone aside, dabbing a bit more blush onto the apples of your cheeks.

San told you to meet him at a restaurant that's very Nobu-esque, and you damn near dropped your phone when you pulled up the directions and saw pictures of the fancy interior. Even if you protested, he wouldn't let up— promising you that he'd take care of everything and that he just wanted you to have a good time with him. He asked once more if you were sure about driving, and you insist; just for the one time, to play things safe, to relieve yourself of the pressure of having to be with San in a car in case dinner doesn't pan out well [for whatever reason].

You are equally excited, nervous and terrified. Might feel a little queasy from the combo.

You run the lip gloss across your lips before pressing them together, spreading it across the surface. You check the time and pack your things into your purse, giving yourself a little bit of wiggle room for the 30-minute drive east to meet San. You check yourself in the mirror and dust yourself off, smoothing down the simple, black cami-strap dress you have on. Good thing you checked the restaurant's dress code on their website last night, or else, you might have walked into the place in something a little more casual.

Not classy. Elegant. Black and white attire only.

You run off to your car without being spotted by anybody you know. You did run into a few classmates and other familiar faces, but ones that won't even bat an eye as to why you're running across the lot in heels and a black dress. You get into your car and warm it up before turning up the heat, pulling up one of your playlists and sending San a text to let him know you're leaving campus. The drive isn't so bad when your playlist is hyping you up, along with the clear highways. You've gotta cross a bridge and pay the toll on your way back, but you don't mind; you feel a sense of relief wash over you being that you've gotten yourself this far from campus.

You knew people from campus weren't fond of coming to the east side. It tailored way too much to the wealthy, hence, San's choice for tonight's dinner.

The side streets are a little too busy in the downtown area, but you finally catch sight of the restaurant on the corner of an intersection; nestled underneath a modern, upscale 5-star hotel. When you pull into the lot, San is chatting it up with the valet. He laughs and you catch that smile of his, his dimples. He's in a black button up, and black slacks. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, the silver chain hanging around his neck— sitting prettily across his collarbones. He points at your car and signals your arrival to the valet, the staff member immediately meeting you at the driver's side when you park in front of the booth.

"Your lady has arrived." The valet says, taking your hand in his before passing you along to San and getting into your car to park it in the lot.

"Hey beautiful." San takes your hand in his and smiles down at you adoringly. "How was the drive?"

"Good." You're barely able to maintain contact because of how shy and nervous you've become being around him. He can tell, though. He chuckles and gives your hand a gentle squeeze before reassuring you with a:

"Promise I'll take care of you tonight, okay? Don't get shy on me."

"Who said I was?"

"You can barely look me in the eye, Y/N." You look up at him and try to hold eye contact, but you shrink; subtly biting onto your lip and hiding behind him when the host greets him like he's known him forever. He walks through the restaurant, heading towards the private back patio. This section is closed off and by reservation only— your guess is that San bought out the patio for your enjoyment, to ease your nerves. And you're proven right when the host slides the back door open, and there's only one table draped in white linen in the middle of the garden. There's a candle in the middle of the table and a singular red rose on your plate, San deciding to forego the additional decorations and rose petals because he didn't wanna do too much for a first dinner. He just didn't wanna overwhelm you knowing you might already be, but he hopes you know he'd take care of you in all ways if you'd let him— the roses and candles being a glimpse into that.

"The waiter will be with you both shortly." The host does a curt bow before leaving you and San in the patio.

"Choi San." You look at and he cocks a brow, trying to prevent himself from smirking too big.

"Mhm?" He looks at you.

"Why did you buy out the whole patio?!"

"To keep you comfortable." He smiles, eyes roaming your figure and the way your dress hugs you so, so beautifully.

"San." You frown a bit. "You didn't have to spend all that just for me."

"Um, yeah. I did, sweetheart." He laughs. "I wanted to. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry tonight." You slowly sit in the high chair in front of him, taking the singular rose to your nose before smiling shyly at him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." His hands are clasped together, elbows resting on the table— his piercing eyes bore into you. "How was your day?"

"It was good. I didn't do much besides get ready for the evening. Had to tell the boys I was running off for the evening like Eunchae and Jurin." San nods and sips his water.

"Sorry love."

"For what?"

"For having you lie to your friends."

"They don't care much." You wave it off with a giggle. "How was your day?"

"Well, I was gonna hang out at Jongho's but someone told me they wanted to go to dinner last minute."

"Wonder who that could be?" You tease and he laughs a bit.

"Yeah, right? She's lucky she's cute." He teases back and the heat rises to your cheeks.

"Didn't mean to impose on your plans with the other Professor Choi."

"Never. I see him all the time, he won't mind if I leave him behind for an evening." You laugh.

"Touché." At this point, the waiter comes and sets down some complimentary edamame before taking orders. You decline any alcohol solely because of your drive home, and San follows suit. He proceeds to order the food for tonight after remembering you didn't have any specific allergies, giving him free range to order things he enjoys, but also knows you'd love.

Wagyu.

Chef's choice omakase.

Other choices of nigiri, like toro.

Uni tempura.

Squid pasta with garlic sauce.

Chilean seabass with dry miso.

It all comes out of San's mouth like the price tag is nonexistent, and you're internally screaming. How could he be so damn charming and suave? Let alone, this is how he spoils you for the first dinner?

"That's all." San smiles toothlessly before handing over the menus to the waiter. He licks his lips and shifts in his position as if he didn't just order a line of the most expensive items on the menu.

"San, this is gonna be so expensive. I can't accept this. Please let me at least pay for half."

"Uh, no. What did I tell you, Y/N? I'd take care of you tonight. I meant it. Just enjoy yourself for me." You sigh and tilt your head before playfully rolling your eyes.

"I can't with you."

"Yes, you can." He chuckles. "So, tell me."

"Hm?" You hum.

"About you."

"What about me?"

"I wanna know everything and anything about you." He gives you that look. "I wanna know what Miss Y/N is about outside of her CV." You snort at the comment, the reality of you being San's rotation student almost hitting you dead in the face until you decide to brush it off completely.

"Well, I'm the only child?" You say in a questioning tone, unsure of where to start. But, the conversation eventually flows on its own. You tell San about your mom being a single mom and how it's always been you two from the very beginning. You don't know much about your dad, but you don't mind talking about it if asked. It's not necessarily a sensitive or heavy topic for you; it's just unfortunate that you don't have anything to add simply because you don't know him. You have family nearby, but your family is small. You don't have cousins you're close to, your relatives are mostly middle-aged, older. Your grandparents were around up until you were in high school, then they both died from illnesses that got to the best of them.

Then, that was that.

You and your mom— mostly you, doing things for your own and on your own while your mom continued to work tirelessly at the hospital to keep food on the table. Rent. Necessities. You worked a few jobs throughout school to help as much as possible, but your mom always told you to put your studies first and to never force yourself if your body was too tired, too overwhelmed. It felt hard for awhile because your mom was barely around. When she was, she was tired. You felt distant, almost like you couldn't be close to your mom regardless of how hard you tried. You didn't think you'd be able to build a better relationship with her until you moved away for college. When you finally had your own space and the distance in between, your relationship blossomed and she became your bestfriend. Then, you tell San how you feel the utmost pressure to make her proud because you're the only child, the only person she can rely on in the future. The only person who can also truly disappoint her, which you don't want.

Though, you feel like you've already started wandering down that path.

You're slightly interrupted when the waiter comes to bring in half of the order, starting with the nigiri and chef's choice, setting it down in the middle of the table. You both thank him before he says he'll be right back with the rest, San giving you the priority and freedom to choose whichever you want to eat. When you start to dig in, you continue to tell San about your friends and how Jiung's been your longest friend since high school. Otherwise, there haven't been too many people you could call your close friends. You knew people, you socialized, but you weren't one to toss the 'close/good friend' term around unless you felt a genuine, real connection with someone. You do feel like you could say that for Felix, Eunchae and Jurin even though it hasn't been long since you've known them; you've clicked with them easily and well. You're grateful for it.

The conversation switches to San's point of view now, and he begins with his family dynamics. He relates to the pressure of making his parents happy as the only child, but he likes to think he's done well for himself so far. He talks about school and how brutal it was for him and his friends— San had a great mentor, but it was hours and hours of clocking in with no endpoint. Days and days of just hustling to finish and make sure he was producing amazing work. You reassure him by telling him you think it's all paid off, adding a little dash of seasoning with your 'or else we wouldn't be here, right?' playful teasing. He touches up on Jongho and their longtime friendship, followed by Mingi, Yeosang, Christopher, and now, Namjoon. He does talk about how him and Yunho used to be bestfriends, inseparable even, but he doesn't go into the details of what went down between him and Iseul.

You won't press him. You'll let him come to you when he's ready to open up about it. Even though San acts like he's fine and he's moved on [he has], you can only imagine how it feels to replay the entire situation in your head, with the two people you trusted and adored more than anything.

"So, yeah. Namjoon and I got close because he was really there for me throughout a lot of the stuff that's happened. Even just down to minuscule things for the lab, my classes— anything. He's always been there for us no matter how busy he is."

"That's good. I can tell Namjoon really cares about you guys and the students."

"He's a good guy. His wife is lucky." You laugh.

"Do you see your parents often?" You watch as San puts another helping of the pasta and fish on your plate.

"From time to time, yeah, when they're around. My dad still travels a lot for business. Even though he stopped teaching, he's on a few boards as a consultant and agrees to talk for conferences or symposiums all the time. Mom's retired so she joins along. What about you?"

"I try to see her when I can. She's worked as a nurse at this hospital all her life, basically." He nods. "So, do you and the guys all live near each other?"

"Uh, sorta? Namjoon lives a bit further down south, but Mingi, Yeosang, Chris and Jongho live in close proximity."

"When you're not at work, do you just hang out with each other?"

"For the most part. We're not always together, though. We like having our own space." He laughs. "Mingi used to pop up randomly and I had to tell him to stop doing it so often."

"Aw, he just wants your company. Don't be mean."

"I'm not mean! I just like to have my peace. Mingi is everything but peace." You laugh.

"Your home must be nice for him to be barging in like that."

"It is. I take pride in it now, not gonna lie." He sips his water, eyes gazing at you from over the rim of his glass. "You know, you're always welcome at my place." You look at him and slowly nod, trying to let the statement sink in. None of it feels weird to you; in fact, it makes you more curious to know about San's personal life. His home. What it'd be like to be in his space, alone.

"I'll keep that in mind. Might have to take you up on that one day." He smirks a bit.

"Yeah? That's kinda nice to hear. Lets me know I didn't entirely blow this." You giggle.

"Not at all." He sits back in his chair, content and satisfied from tonight's meal. He sees that you've finished everything on your plate, your attention now on the garden to your left while you sip on your water. He can't even deny how attracted he is to you, and how he has this indescribable pull to you. You're beautiful, and from your interactions, the way you speak and carry yourself, the passion behind your work, the way you care about your friends and mom— you've got a good, comforting soul that could balance his own. Almost like Yin and Yang, Tui and La. "What?" You ask him all innocently and he's struggling. He can't even help the huge smile that grows on his face when he looks at you.

"Nothing." He runs his finger across his bottom lip. "You're just.. so beautiful."

"Thank you, San." You respond softly and he feels his heart melt. The waiter comes back with the check, in which San is quick to hand over his card before you can even get your hands on it. You give him a look and he laughs, shaking his head after playfully reminding you that he'd take care of you.

"Any plans for the rest of the weekend, or next week?"

"Not really. I'll probably hang out with the boys while the girls are gone. Next week, I've got a lot of behavior to run for Sunwoo, things to prep for the class I'm TAing for." He nods.

"Always working so hard."

"Uh, yeah. Especially for you." You poke fun at him and laugh. "What about you?"

"Mm, I have to actually start prepping for the symposium because it's coming up."

"Do you have your talk ready to go?"

"Nah." He shrugs. "But, I will."

"Do you still get nervous for talks?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely."

"You look so natural when you're doing it, though. I wouldn't have expected it."

"I do. I get pretty nervous. Not as bad as before, I'm able to shake it off better now." He lets out a breath, the both of you popping the little coffee candy that came with the check.

"How bad was it before?"

"Hm." He hums and thinks about it for a second. "Right before my first lecture for the big neuroscience association conference, I almost threw up. I was so nauseated, was dry-heaving for a good minute before I could get myself together."

"What? I would have never guessed."

"Took a lot to get used to it. Still getting used to it." He smiles brightly. "But, I'm glad you think so. At least I'm doing something right." He looks at the date on his phone. "Speaking of the neuroscience association conference, the next one is coming up. Did you and your friends register to go?"

"Me, Jiung and a few others, yeah. Felix, Eunchae, Jurin and everyone else is just going to go on the trip cause they know that's where everyone will be at."

"Can't disagree, it'll be party central for the neuroscience community." You laugh.

"Can't wait to experience it." You look at him. "Will you be busy during the entire duration of the conference?"

"Mm, yeah. I've got a few other commitments and meetings. Lots of colleagues I haven't seen in awhile will be there, so I'll be catching up with them. There's also another smaller conference nearby that I'll be speaking at upstate before I head back down for the main one."

"Busy you."

"Maybe. I'll always have time for you, though." He winks and you laugh it off. At this point, San stands and stretches before reaching out his hand for you to grab. "Ready to go?"

"I am." You take his hand and stand in front, letting San pull you flush against his body; hands resting on the small of your back.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the surface. Eyes examining your features closely. "Kinda wanna re-do the first kiss. Wanna do it right this time." You bite your lip and nod, eyes locked onto his lips as he leans forward. His lips meet you in a soft, tender kiss— one that isn't rushed, one that releases all your feelings into the universe, the galaxies. One that feels so natural, so meant to be.

One that gives you butterflies,

One that also unravels Pandora's box.

He holds the kiss for longer than expected, letting his lips mold into yours delicately. When he pulls away, he quickly reattaches his lips to yours; indulging in small sweet, repeated kisses before he kisses your forehead. He pulls back completely to look at you again, and he's admiring every inch of you from underneath the moon. You watch his jaw slightly tick, Adam's apple bob up and down; eyes full of desire. Need. Encompassing you, all of you.

"Hope you enjoyed dinner."

"I did, San. Thank you, again."

"No, thank you for joining me." He flashes you a cute, toothless smile before lacing his hand with yours. "Shall we? Do you want dessert or something?"

"I'm good, I'm stuffed. The food was so good." You pat your tummy as the both of you walk out of the restaurant and head towards valet, thanking the staff on your way out.

"Yeah, it was. Glad you're satisfied and happy." He presses a kiss to the surface of your hand just before greeting the valet. He runs to bring over your car first, parking it off to the side by the entrance to the lot to give you and San some time to say goodbye. San pops the driver's door open, allowing you to slide in while he hangs by the door.

"Thank you again for tonight." You buckle your seat belt and look at him.

"Course. Drive safely, okay? Text me when you get home please."

"I will."

"Good." He smirks before dipping down to give you another kiss on the lips. He shuts the door and gives you one last wave before walking towards his own car and letting you drive off.

The butterflies that man gives you is insane.

You can't even help but smile widely during the drive home, recounting each moment of the night and how you've quickly grown comfortable with San as a person. He's easy to talk to, easy to get along with.

Easy to be attracted to. Easy to be charmed by.

Easy to love.

You see it. You see why people love him and adore him, you see the bright aura he has. You see why people respect him.

You see yourself and him.

And the thought never leaves your mind once after that. You want San, just as he with you.

You head home alone that night, and the idea about being alone with San more— off campus, anywhere but there— becomes more and more enticing. It doesn't leave you for a few days, even while San is trying to give you the space to take things slowly. He's never pressured you into moving at a pace you didn't like, always gently touching you but never doing anything that would make you overwhelmed. Not only does he know you two have to be careful, but most importantly, he knows all of this is a lot. In general.

So, he sticks to the cute texts and phone calls.

Quick mini-meetings in his office in between commitments, especially during the rare moment of an empty basement. Quick hello's in said office that result in chaste kisses and you darting out before anyone can think twice about why you've been in Professor Choi's office twice [or thrice] in one day.

You do want to be alone with him more, though. You want to see what possibilities lie behind closed doors, the ways you both could show each other your feelings. You want to see where else this could take you two, how it could continue to grow. Where things could head once you two are alone in a space together, with no background noise. No outsiders.

you: are you in your office?

san: sure am!

"San?" You poke your head into his office before sliding in and locking the door. The basement was incredibly [and unusually] empty for a weekday, San's office door and the walls the only thing separating you two from each other.

"Hey." He smiles from his desk, immediately pushing his chair back so he can stand and pull you close. "Wasn't expecting a visit from you right now."

"Sorry." You pout a bit and he shakes his head before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I should've asked if you were free first."

"Mm, well." He hums. "I've always got time for you, remember?" You giggle. "Is everything okay?"

"Kinda?"

"Kinda? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He sits back on the edge of his desk, hand pulling you towards him and slotting you in between his legs.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Mhm?" He says in a sing-song tone, curious about what you surprisingly popped in for.

"Can I come over?" His eyes widen a bit; not because he doesn't want you to, no. But because he's been dying to have you over. He's just been waiting until you seemed more ready to take that step.

"Tonight?" You nod, playing with his hands. "Of course you can." He pulls his hands away just to rest them behind your back. "Sure you wanna?"

"I do." He chuckles.

"I'll pick you up this time? Down the street from your building."

"Okay."

"Is that all that's been bothering you?"

"I just wasn't sure how to ask without seeming too eager, or desperate, or—"

"Hey." He laughs a bit, brushing your hair away from your face. "Never that. I've been wanting you over, but I wanted to wait until you seemed more comfortable." You relax in his hold and sink into his touch more, fingers threading through the ends of his hair.

"I wanna stay." You boldly let out, causing San to smile.

"You can stay. Whatever you want. Have more than enough room for you, sweetheart." He leans forward to meet you in a sweet, simple peck. "What time do you want me to come get you?"

"I should finish a few things before leaving."

"Just text me then, hm? I'll come whenever you're ready."

"Okay." You look at him before smirking. "That's all I wanted to talk about, Professor Choi." He chuckles, giving your side a good squeeze while biting his bottom lip.

"You're gonna be the death of me."

"Likewise." You playfully tap his nose before planting a kiss on his lips. "I'll text you later."

"Leaving already?" He pouts as you slowly pry yourself off of him because you're in his office. On campus grounds. You have to, even if you don't want to.

"I gotta get back to work, just like you do." You give him a look before waving by the door. "See you later."

"Mhm." He responds in a sing-song tone, crossing his arms tightly against his chest while he watches you walk out.

The butterflies you give him are insane.

After another long ass day of work and classes, you quickly grab dinner with your friends before rushing off to finish the rest of your assignments. You hop in a long, hot steamy shower— exfoliating and moisturizing like crazy. You strut around in your towel, throwing your toiletries into a huge bag, along with some clothes just in case.

You can never go wrong with an emergency set of clothes and toiletries, right?

You send San a text to let him know you're about to be ready and throw on a lazy fit, feeling comfortable enough to not have to dress up for him during an occasion like this. It's a set of black wide-legged sweats and a cropped half-zip sweater, slipping into your platform Uggs for extra comfort. You step through your little cloud of perfume before grabbing your bag and heading out.

Ring, ring.

"Hey." You pick up the call, your eyes quickly scanning your surroundings. There isn't anyone in close proximity, but you still feel like someone might've caught onto the phone call coming through. Like someone could be listening, could be nearby, could be onto you.

"Where are you? I'm right outside the lot, leading into the residential street."

"I'm on my way. Someone might see you!"

"Y/N, I promise. No one's out here. This part of the street is pretty dead."

"Okay, but people coming in and out of the buildings?"

"I promise you it's fine and out of view. Hurry. I miss you." You roll your eyes when you hear the slight whine in his tone.

"Choi San, I swear." You mutter his name so lowly, paranoid of someone accidentally hearing you call your professor's name on the phone in passing.

"Mm, when you say my name like that, though." He wears a shit-eating smirk underneath the black mask he's wearing. Truthfully, he does look a little suspect hanging out in his car off to the side of the lot in a hat and black mask. He uses his second car, a Porsche Taycan, that he doesn't really take to campus— usually drives it when he wants to go for a drive down the highway by himself late at night, or when it's time to kick it with the boys. He's certain none of them are lingering around campus since they're always so quick to book it after their last meetings or classes. It's the best way he could conceal himself right now, he thinks.

It's all good.

"I'm coming out the side door. I'll be there in a second." You hastily hang up and tuck your phone in, feeling some kind of relief that you're almost at the stairs that'll lead you to the side—

"Yo!" Felix calls out with Jiung next to him. "Where are you going? We were just coming to bother you." He furrows his brows, eyes shifting to the huge tote bag you're carrying.

"I.. need to go to the lab."

"The lab? Now?" Jiung tilts his head. They're a little confused, but they're also not entirely surprised— people were in and out of the labs doing work at all times of the day. Some were night owls and preferred doing work late nights to avoid fighting over equipment and space during the day. It wasn't uncommon.

What is confusing is your large ass bag, though. For what?

"Yeah, I gotta check on one of the mice. The vet said they looked sick." Jiung and Felix nod as they take the lie. Again.

"Why are you bringing a big ass bag, though? Are you hauling the mice away or something?" Felix snorts.

"No, I have some supplies in here that I'm bringing over. We're building new behavior arenas now that the foundation of the rig is done." Felix shrugs.

"Oh, okay. Do you need us to walk you?"

"No!" You respond a bit too quickly that they're back to giving you weird, confused looks. "No— Sorry." You smile. "I'll be fine. I think Sunwoo has been there anyway. Thank you, though."

"Mm, okay then." Jiung shrugs. "Just let us know if you need us to come get you?" He pops another apple slice in his mouth.

"I will." You wave as you walk through the door and head down the steps in a hurry.

"Was Y/N being a little weird or..?" Felix asks, but Jiung shrugs.

"Eh, she's probably a little overwhelmed or something." He turns down the hall. "Let's just go see what Eunchae is doing."

You finally dart out the side door, doing a light jog over the grassy area and taking a shortcut towards the street that leads into the residential area from your building. You see San parked behind another car near the first house on the street, and San can see you making your way over through the rearview mirror. He smiles to himself when you near the car, pulling on the door handle to slide into the passenger's seat. His car smells like a mix of his air freshener, along with a hint of his cologne that you've slowly become obsessed with.

"Hey beautiful." He leans over the middle console and pulls down his mask. He puckers up his lips and it makes you giggle just as you lean in to give him what he wants. He doesn't pull back right away, no. Instead, he deepens the kiss and slips some tongue in, a shaky exhale released in between as his hand comes up to caress your cheek.

"Maybe we should leave."

"Mhm." San teases as he continues to kiss you, smirking into the kiss.

"San."

"Just one more." He chuckles before dipping forward and kissing you passionately again. You bite onto your bottom lip when he finally sits back in the driver's seat and rests his head against the headrest, admiring how cute you look in your leggings and hoodie. "You're cute."

"Stop." You giggle and shake your head. "Drive before someone sees us."

"Yes ma'am." He starts up the car and begins to drive to his destination. You're not really sure what to expect since it's your first time going to his place. You knew San was well off, but you didn't know what you were walking into— did he live in a modern, expensive ass apartment? Was it a penthouse? A regular single family home? You'll finally see why Mingi likes to barge in from time to time. "How was your day?" You're pulled out of your thoughts when he chimes in with the question.

"It was okay. I ran into Jiung and Felix as I was leaving." He leans against his window with one hand on the wheel, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Oh? How was that?"

"I don't know? I think they believed me. I said I was heading into lab." San shrugs.

"That's a good reason since it isn't uncommon. I'm sure it's fine, angel." He looks at you before returning his attention to the road in front of him. "It's pretty hot seeing you work so hard in my lab."

"Shut up, Professor Choi." He bites on his bottom lip before slipping his hand on your thigh. He gives it a good squeeze as he continues to drive in silence, the music softly filling the void in the car.

"Did you eat?" You nod.

"Mhm. Just grabbed something from the dining hall."

"Good."

"Did you?" He nods.

"Mhm. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, though."

"I am. Thank you." You watch as the surroundings pass you by while San takes you down towards another neighborhood near campus. A lot of other professors live closeby since the university has housing assistance for them as well. You just hope San's home is one of the select few that's isolated and isn't heavily populated with said group of professors.

When San pulls into his garage, you're a little surprised at the house. You're in awe because you wonder how San makes use of all this space living alone. It's a beautiful single family home, and you're sure the decision to buy this had come from Professor Lee when they had been married. You wonder if he still holds onto those memories, or why he didn't end up moving to another place. Perhaps—

"Y/N?" You snap out of it and turn to San, who has already parked the car and is unbuckling his seatbelt. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was spacing out."

"You sure you're okay?" He chuckles. The both of you step out of the car and head into the hallway that leads straight into his bar and kitchen area first. "I can practically hear you thinking, sweetheart." He kicks off his shoes and you follow suit, San waiting for you before walking deeper into his house. You look up at him and he gives you a small smile, holding out his hand for you to take. "Relax. You can ask me anything." He pulls you flush against him, hands gently rubbing up and down your sides. "Okay?" He tilts your chin up and presses a kiss against your lips, which surely does put you at ease.

"I'm just curious about some stuff."

"Like?" You step into the living room and set your bag down on the couch temporarily. Your eyes roam around, scanning the sleek and simple decorations. It gives off a classy, modern look; room full of brown, white and black themes, wood hints.

"I'm not sure I know how to ask." You rub at your arms while San grabs two wine glasses from the cabinets and sets them down on the island counter.

"Ask away. I won't mind. I think I already know where you're going with it, anyway." You walk towards the island and rest your elbows against the marble countertop. "Is wine good, or do you want something else?"

"Wine is good." You pause, fully taking in what San is wearing as he continues to move around the kitchen. He's casually dressed in black Essentials sweats with a matching black tee. He sets his hat off to the side, running a hand through his soft, black hair. You think San is attractive during the day with his usual button-up top and slacks, but this— this was even more attractive to you and had you buckling at the knees the more you ogled at him. "Don't you get lonely being in this big house? I-I mean, you used to live here with her, right?" You chime in, hoping not to seem too spaced out and in your thoughts again.

"Mhm. I've gotten used to it, though." He says with a soft smile. "By the way, white or red?"

"White, if you have any please." He nods.

"I got you." He digs into his wine cooler beneath the island.

"Why didn't you wanna sell this and buy another house?" He shrugs.

"To be honest, I've thought about it. Every corner of this house used to remind me of her and I'd hate it." He pours wine into your glasses. "But, I really do love the house and the space it gives me. I just flipped it into something I'd be happy and comfortable with, and I've moved past all of that. It just feels like my space now."

"That's good. As long as you're okay. You decorated your home beautifully too, San."

"I am, yeah. Thank you, pretty girl." He smiles and comes around the corner to wrap his arms around you from behind. He kisses the back of your head as you relax in his hold, letting out a small exhale. "Is there anything else you're curious about?"

"Not right now." San chuckles a bit.

"Okay, well. I'll be ready for the next time." He kisses your temple. "Why don't you get comfy so we can relax and watch a movie? Sip on some wine, eat some cheese and crackers." You giggle and turn to face him in his hold.

"You're gonna prep some cheese and crackers, too?"

"Why not?" He chuckles. "Let me take you upstairs so you can get comfortable." You grab your things and take his hand, silently following San up to the second level of his home. There's a little loft that he's converted into a small gaming area— another smaller L-shaped sectional couch nestled against the walls with his gaming consoles on the shelf beneath the TV, board games neatly stacked away. There's a guest room to your right, his office to the left. You peek and find a large bookshelf covering the back wall behind his large desk and computer set up. "Here's my room." He takes you into his large master bedroom; sheets neatly made, large master bathroom off to the right corner of the room. "Bathroom's through there if you need anything." He looks at you. "Or, you can use the guest room if you feel more comfortable doing so."

"Thank you."

"Course. I'll be downstairs, okay?" He kisses you on the lips. You watch as he heads back downstairs to give you some privacy, returning your attention to the interior of his room. It's a little weird when you think that this used to be a space shared by Iseul— she'd be in here all the time, closet partially hers, bed shared with her. You brush off the thoughts and set your things aside before walking into his spotless bathroom to freshen up even though you just took a shower. San's got his own skincare, cologne and other hair products neatly organized off to the side. You complete your nightly routine for your skincare and slip into more appropriate pajamas in an effort to wind down and get cozy for bedtime. When you step out of the bathroom, you hear the tv echoing from downstairs, along with what sounds like San humming to a song. You head down the steps to see San setting up the last bits of his cute cheese and crackers display, wiping off the crumbs on his island counter. "Hey. You all good?"

"Mhm." You giggle, following him to the couch. You plop onto the open space just as San jogs back to bring over the wine he poured earlier. "What're we watching?"

"Good question." He says, flipping through the channels while sitting next to you and sipping on his wine. "Should we put on something cute or..?"

"Have you ever watched Worst Ex Ever?"

"Oh— ah, okay. So we're going the true crime route." You laugh and shake your head.

"I watched that, but I wanted to watch the other installment, Worst Roommate Ever." He nods and throws it on.

"Yeah, I'm all for it!" He kicks off the first episode and leans back against the couch, one arm draped over you from behind, giving you the opportunity to scoot closer to him.

As the episode continues, you find that San is actually really interested in these things— engaging in conversation about your thoughts, why certain events happened in the episode, motives, thought processes— you love how he carries the conversation with you. You enjoy watching the show a little too much with him that time seems to fly right on by despite the hour-long episodes. You'd laugh and giggle when San pouts and whines when he's guessed wrong, resulting in you two sharing cute, little intimate kisses in between. After you both finish your wine and go through most of his charcuterie board, you snuggle up closer to San. You've got your legs folded up on the couch, with San's hand grazing your thigh every time he dips forward for a kiss. You've gone through 2 and a half episodes before you're yawning and giving San tired eyes, so he pauses the show; hand gently rubbing at your thigh.

"Tired?" You nod.

"Kinda tired, yeah." He chuckles and shuts off the TV.

"Let's get upstairs then." You help him clean up the wine glasses and the board even though he insisted he had everything under control. But, as he steps back and takes a moment to watch you rinse out the dishes and load them into the dishwasher, he finds his heart skipping a few beats. He likes seeing this; he likes seeing you, in his kitchen, as if you were always meant to be in this home. With him. It just felt so.. natural and domestic. It's been so long since he's genuinely felt that way. You give him a small smile when you've finished, beginning to climb up the steps as San shuts off his lights and makes sure all the doors are locked. You head into his room and start to brush your teeth, San following suit next to you. You don't even think twice about the whole thing, even as you walk towards his bed with him. He pulls back the covers and you slide in, staring at the ceiling above while he cozies up to you.

"San."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm ready to ask the next question. But, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." You turn towards him and lay on your stomach. He chuckles a bit and brushes your hair back, reassuring you to continue on. You said you'd wait for him to open up, but you couldn't help it— you were curious, and you felt like you were getting deeper into this thing with San. Maybe it was time.

"I'll answer, but I might not go into detail. How about that?" He already knows where this is going. And with you, he wants to be as transparent as possible without having to relive that part of his life again. Despite his feelings for you, he still needs to hold space for himself especially with that aspect. He doesn't wanna undo the work he's done on himself.

"Okay."

"Go for it, angel."

"What was your relationship like with her?" He lets out a breath as he rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the pillow.

"Mm, well. I'd say it was good until she realized it wasn't me she wanted this entire time. We were one of those couples who moved quickly and unfortunately, it just didn't work out well for us at all. We ended just as quickly as we blossomed." You look at him.

"So, when did you meet and when did everything happen?"

"We met in grad school. We started going out maybe a year after we had met and been good friends. Me, her and Yunho were always together. Another year after that, we're married. Things were good even though things were moving fast. Parents liked each other, we bought this house. It felt like things were falling into place. We were doing a lot of 'future' talks, even thought about kids at one point." You continue to listen intently while San goes on, his hand tracing faint shapes on your clothed back. "But then, the postdoc years happened. We were both busy, but me especially. I hadn't realized it then, but I was putting work and the lab before anything and anyone else. I kinda can't even blame her for acting the way she did because I should've paid more attention to her as her husband."

"You can't blame yourself, San."

"I don't." He smiles a bit. "Not anymore, at least. In general, I should've just paid more attention." He lets out a small sigh. "I knew her and Yunho had gotten close so I didn't think much of it when I started to see them hanging out more without me, or starting things without me. The busier I got, the more she leaned on Yunho. He was there for her when I wasn't. That's what she wanted and needed the most, and he was there to provide that for her. He was able to."

"Did she ever talk to you about it?"

"She was the type who couldn't communicate well. She'd harbor everything until that one thing triggers her and makes her blow up." You nod. "Whenever I felt tension or whenever I felt her being off, I'd ask, and her response was always 'i'm just tired' or 'too many things going on with my project, it's overwhelming.' There were only a few occasions when she told me she felt like I wasn't there for her enough. I wanted to fix it, but she brushed it off and said it was fine, that this was just our life together." San shakes his head. "Not once did I ever wanna give up on her. I wanted to fix it. I tried everything to be better for her, but I was too late, I guess. I found out about her and Yunho seeing each other behind my back, I called the divorce. She tried running back a few times but we'd always end up worse than the last time. We'd yell, we'd argue. I'd be hurt all over again, re-opening that same wound over and over again. Had me thinking I had a chance to actually fix us, only to be shot down. Then later, her and Yunho eloped and got married."

"Fuck." You mutter. "Sorry— I just, I don't even know what to say."

"The worst part is that she blamed me and painted me to be the bad guy. It got so toxic, it really messed me up. She would tell people this false narrative that I always fought with her and that I was unfair. My priorities were everywhere. She told people she properly broke it off before seeing Yunho when that wasn't the case. I dunno why she said and did all those things. Maybe she was angry at me for not trying the way Yunho did? Maybe she just hated me?"

"You and Yunho are two very different people, and you did try to fix it. She just wanted to be a brat about it. She wanted to have her cake and eat it, too." You frown. "I'm sorry, San."

"For what, baby?" He laughs a bit. "It is what it is, it happened and I'm past it."

"Yeah, but still." You play with his hair. "What was Yunho doing in all of this?"

"Denying the affair even though I caught them. He kept trying to apologize but there was always a 'but.' I mean, what else can he do? That's his girl so he's going with it."

"Sick." You sigh. "Can't believe them. They don't deserve you anyway."

"You're right. They don't. I have my people by my side." He taps the tip of your nose. "Now, you."

"You do have me." You lay your head down on the pillow while looking at him.

"I do?" He teasingly leans forward, inches away from your lips.

"Mhm."

"Good. That's all I need." His eyes shift down to your lips briefly before shifting back up to you. "Is there anything else you wanna ask?"

"Hm. Do you really mean that?"

"What? That you're all I need?" You nod. "I don't lie. Ever." He chuckles, caressing your cheek sweetly.

"Just kinda hard to believe hearing it from you."

"That's okay. I mean—" He whispers, pressing light, feathery kisses to your cheeks, corner of your lips. "I can show you instead, if you'd let me?"

"Show me." You whisper back, tilting your head back to give San more access to your neck, to you. One second, he's kissing up on your neck with your hands tangled in the ends of his hair; the next, your tongues are fighting for dominance in a heated kiss. Everything feels so calculated, so full of genuine emotion and desire. San's hands travel up your shirt, massaging your breasts before letting his thumb play around with your nipples. You let out a breathy moan in between kisses, back arching in response to his touch. He carefully removes your shirt and tosses it aside, mouth now latching onto one hardened bud. His tongue flicks around, working in circular motions before pulling back with a pop— earning a louder moan to slip from your lips, goosebumps rising on your skin. He repeats the motions on the other, taking his time to lick and suck around your nipple before pulling back.

San is quick to reattach his lips to yours; this kiss holding more fervor, more intensity, as his hand slides down to completely slide your bottoms off. You work to remove his shirt, the both of you bare in a matter of seconds.

Clothes littering his bedside.

He tries not to break the kiss, even as he crawls on top of you, fingers dipping into your heat and in between your folds to get a sense of how wet you already are.

"Oh my god." You cry. San's cock is painfully hard, hitting your thigh while he continues to pepper your jaw, neck, with kisses.

"Can I have you, baby?" He whispers in your ear.

"Y-yes." You can barely make out from the overwhelming desire, excitement. Thrill.

This was actually happening.

San hovers slightly to slide his nightstand drawer out, but you stop him before he can grab a condom.

"I'm on the IUD." You shake your head. "Don't need it."

"You sure?" He asks once more for final confirmation, and you give it to him with a nod. He pauses, eyes skimming through your features again before pecking you on the lips, hand coming down to stroke his length. You drool at the sight, admiring how perfectly long and thick he is. He smirks, tapping his heavy cock against your pussy a few times.

Just to be a fucking tease.

He starts slow— pressing his cock in between your folds, gliding up and down.

"Mm— god." He huffs. "You feel perfect already." San watches the way your eyes roll back, mouth open as you let out small whines and whimpers at the feeling. He nudges your clit with his tip as he continues to slide up and down, earning a loud mewl to release from your lips. His other hand is now gripping your jaw to force you to maintain eye contact with him— it's not a harsh grip, but it's enough to keep you clenching around nothing. Enough to keep you writhing for more underneath him. He rubs the tip against your sensitive nub directly, another shaky moan releasing from your lips.

"Fuck, San." You hiss, feeling the pleasure build right at your core with the way he's rubbing against you; legs cocked all the way open for him.

"So beautiful. Think I can make you cum like this, angel?" You take your hand and wrap it around his base, letting him thrust into your hand as he continues his movements between your folds. "Feels so fucking good. Can't even imagine how you'd feel wrapped around me. Hm?" He hums, head kicking back in pleasure while trying to maintain his composure. Because fuck, he can feel himself dangerously close to the edge, but he's hanging on so he can feel you— all of you.

"San, San— oh god, San." You cry repeatedly, feeling your clit ready to explode. His tip is hitting it at the right pace, hitting you in all the right spots at the right pace. You move your hips upward, grinding into his length as he continues; mouth slacked open from the overwhelming pleasure. "You're gonna make me cum."

"Yeah? Use me. Wanna see how pretty you look when you cum." He stills and watches as you use his cock to reach your first orgasm of the night, pressing him down with the right pressure onto your heat as you grind at a quicker pace— finally toppling over the edge. His eyes glow when he watches your mouth slack open from the silent moan you release, hands coming down to ease your twitching body. "God, you're perfect." He presses feathery kisses across your jaw, chin.

Neck.

Coming right below to your sweet spot below the ear.

"Ready for me?" He asks near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe and giving you chaste kisses on said sweet spot. You nod, giving him the green light to move further. He lines himself at your entrance before gently pushing himself in, loud moans escaping the more he buries himself to the hilt. "Baaaby." San's moan drags out as he eases himself into you. "Shit, you're so tight." He slowly pumps in and out, eyes glued to his cock as you coat it with your slickness. "Feeling okay?"

"Mhm. Feels so full." You almost whine. His hands are now pressed onto your inner thighs to make sure you keep yourself open for him. He rolls his hips into you as he hovers over your body and locks you into another kiss. He doesn't waste any time picking up his pace, the way you whine and beg, beg and whine— it drives him crazy.

"Take me. You can do it, sweetheart." His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, tongue licking into your mouth just as he devours you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You let out a strangled, lewd moan when he starts pounding into you harder, deeper; sounds of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls. Pussy squelching. San's name being repeated like a song, a mantra.

The noise is nothing short of pornographic.

"Please. More. Give it to me." You plead. "Feels too good."

"Shit— Y/N, jesus fucking christ." San groans when he slowly pulls out just to the tip, creamy mess lathering the top of his dick like icing. "Gonna make me cum." He pounds back into you at an angle where he can reach all your spots. He lowers himself back down to kiss you, fucking into you while expertly rubbing away at your aching clit.

San is so, so good.

"Want you to cum in me, San."

"Yeah? You did so well for me, baby. I'll fill you up real good. Just how you want it."' After two, three more hard thrusts, you find yourself unraveling for the second time. And this time, it comes crashing down harder, your walls squeezing and constricting around him. You're digging your nails deep into San's back, moaning into his mouth as he continues to chase his high. "I'm cumming— fuck." He lets out a loud, breathy moan as he stills; milking every last bit of himself into you. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses to the surface before coming up to kiss you softly on the lips. "You okay, baby?" He smiles.

"Mhm." He presses a few more repeated, tender kisses to your lips before running off to the bathroom to help clean you up. You lay back on your tummy as San slips himself back under the sheets, sitting back against the headboard. He sighs, black glasses perched on his nose while the sheets are pulled up to his hips. You watch as he pulls his laptop and sits it on his lap before typing away, letting out a small giggle at the way he's working.

"Do you always work naked like that? Especially after what just happened?" You tease. San smirks before giving your head a playful but gentle rub.

"Only if you're around."

"You're sick." He laughs.

"Why, is it distracting?" You giggle and shake your head, shoving your face further down into the pillow to avoid eye contact.

"No." You mumble into the pillow.

"Then, why can't you look at me?" You peek from the pillow, catching San looking straight down at you with a small smile on his face. "Gotta beg for a kiss, too?" You roll your eyes and shift upwards to give him a peck on the lips before sinking back down into the sheets. "Good girl."

"In all seriousness though, do you always have a ton of work to catch up on at night?"

"Mm, I just prefer to catch up on things at night. Sometimes, it's easier to get through it when I'm winding down." He lets out a small sigh as he continues to scroll through his inbox and reply to a few emails. He also needs to work on some more grant-related things that he's been kinda putting off. "No biggie, though." He looks at you. "Getting sleepy now?"

"A bit. Good thing I caught up on everything before leaving."

"How'd you know you'd be busy?" He laughs a bit.

"You're so annoying. Plus, I'd rather not do my homework around you."

"Why? I can be of help."

"No, Professor Choi. Leave me to my own work." You mutter as you turn the other way and shut your eyes for a little longer. San lets out a small laugh before typing away on his laptop. It isn't long before you've stopped moving and he hears your soft breathing against the pillow, causing him to smile to himself. He leans over to press a kiss against your head, whispering a quick 'goodnight beautiful' before resuming his work. He works for another 15 minutes before he feels exhaustion taking over his body. He shuts off his laptop and sets it aside, snuggling under the covers and pulling you close as he quickly drifts off to sleep with you in his arms.

When the next morning comes, you wake up from the best sleep you've had in awhile. The sheets are keeping you warm and cozy, the mattress feels perfect against your body— everything feels perfect, except there's no San and you're yearning for him already.

You've barely been awake and all you want is San.

Luckily for you, you hear his footsteps as he comes up the steps right at that moment. When he turns into the room, he's already dressed in today's attire: a cream-colored long-sleeve henley top and jeans.

"Hey." San sits on the edge of the bed and runs his soft hand up and down your bare back. You look at him lazily, threatening to fall back asleep with the way his fingers lightly run across the surface.

"Hi." You look at him sweetly and he feels his heart melt. He could get used to this.

"Going back to sleep?"

"Mm." You stretch a bit and sit up, grabbing the covers to shield your naked body. "I should probably get up and get ready to head back."

"Do you have to?" He whines.

"Yes." You giggle. "My friends are probably gonna try and bother me before class. And in case you've forgotten, sir, I have to help Sunwoo fix the 2P for our work in your lab."

"Sexy."

"You're too much." You tease, making San chuckle. "Do you have meetings in between class today?"

"Mm, yeah. A few. I have to meet with Chris and Jongho about this ongoing collaboration discussion and some last minute symposium things, then I have to meet with some donors."

"Goodluck."

"Thank you, baby." He caresses your chin before kissing your forehead. "Come downstairs when you're done getting ready."

"Okay." You stretch as San heads to his office really quickly before heading back down to the kitchen. You strut to bathroom to wash up and get ready for your day, throwing on the same outfit you had on when San picked you up. After gathering your things and fixing San's bed, you head downstairs and find that San's got a cup of coffee and a breakfast plate fixed for you. He's standing near the counter, sipping his coffee while scrolling through his phone.

"Breakfast?" He smiles at you before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in for kiss.

"Thank you."

Even though things feel too good to be true, you could definitely get used to this.

—read 6.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

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finelinefae · 23 days ago

Text

my darling

synopsis: a love triangle

word count: 10.8k

contains: angst angst angst, love triangle, mfm, best friends to lovers, boarding school, violence, unrequited love,

a/n: i wrote this for wattpad during the My Policeman era. I wanted to post it here after re-reading it. I remember this being one of the first pieces of fanfic i felt super proud of !! warning it is pretty sad

. . .

Then — 1996

Dear Diary,

Today we moved into our new home in Halton. It’s small, quaint, and quiet—very quiet. The kind of place where everyone seems set in their routines, the same patterns repeating every day. I already miss London. Mum says this will be good for us, though. Good to get away from the drama. Good to get away from Dad.

The house isn’t as big as our old one. I have to share a room with Delilah now, but it’s fine—I’ll be off to boarding school by the end of the summer. Mum says I’ll enjoy it since she went to the same school at my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel better. Who actually enjoys living at school?

It’s a three-hour drive from Halton, which feels like a world away. I’m nervous, excited, sad, and happy all at once. The feelings are so overwhelming they all blur together into something I can only describe as... heavy. Like my life is a snow globe someone’s just shaken up, glitter falling everywhere. It looks magical at first, but the reality is you’re stuck cleaning it up for weeks, finding it in the oddest places long after.

I miss my dog. I never got to say goodbye.

Dad cried when we left. I’ve never seen him cry before. He told me it wasn’t goodbye, just a "see you later." Mum always says Dad’s a good liar, but I don’t think he was lying this time. Maybe it was the tears—they don’t suit him.

Dear Diary,

Today I moved into my dorm at Southend Park School.

Mum was annoyed we had to wake up before seven to pack the car and drive me down, even though this was all her idea. She’s probably just tired—or maybe something else. I have a suspicion she’s met someone. I’m not sure how she moved on from Dad so quickly. Did she ever really love him?

My dorm has six girls, including me. I’ve mostly been talking to Ellis, who’s in the room next door. She’s fourteen, older than the rest of us, but only because her birthday is the 1st of September. Today’s the third, so her advantage is technical, but she likes to remind us.

Being alone here scares me, but it’s nothing new. Delilah always had loads of friends, and Dad was always working. Mum was usually out socializing, too.

Mum cried as we finished unpacking, promising she’d pick me up for half-term or that I could come home anytime. But I don’t want to go home. I hate it there.

Tomorrow is a full day of inductions, and I’m worried about making friends. Southend Park is a mixed school, and boys make me nervous. I’d rather have no friends at all than feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I still feel like I’m picking up glitter from months ago. I wonder when it will finally stop.

Dear Diary,

I made two friends. You’ll never guess—they’re boys!

Their names are Harry and Dylan. They’re both thirteen, like me, but they feel older somehow. They even live in the same dorm and invited me over this weekend.

We met during lunch in the courtyard. I was sitting alone when Dylan walked up first, chatting easily and cracking jokes. Harry followed behind, much quieter. Dylan has blond hair and a small scar on his eyebrow from climbing trees back in Morston. Harry’s hair is thick and curly—I wanted to touch it but stopped myself because, well, that would’ve been weird.

Harry didn’t say much at first, though I noticed him glancing at me. When I met his gaze, he blushed and looked down at his extra-polished school shoes.

We didn’t talk much again until the end of the day, on the way back to the dorms. That’s when we compared timetables and realized we share four classes, including English Literature. It’s just Harry and me in that one, though.

I never thought I’d be friends with boys, but I like it. It feels different from being friends with girls—less pressure to act outgoing or girly. I hope we stay friends. I like them both a lot.

. . .

Then — 2000

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N called, running across the field toward the headmaster’s office where Harry stood, focused on his Nokia flip phone.

Harry glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. He tucked the phone into his pocket and waved her over. Despite the end-of-day chaos, both were still dressed in their school uniforms. “Hey, baby.” He greeted her with a quick kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. He loved how perfectly she fit against him, as though they were made for each other.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we meeting Dylan to go to Ellis’ dorm?” Y/N asked, frowning slightly as she looked around for their other best friend.

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “We are, but Dylan got caught passing notes to Casey Becker in geometry. He’s stuck with thirty minutes in the headmaster’s office to make amends.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh warm and familiar. “Again? He’s going to get himself expelled if he’s not careful.” She slid her hands under Harry’s blazer, warming them against his torso.

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “How was your day?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“It was fine,” Y/N replied. “I scored three points in netball, and Tessa Riley gave me daggers in the changing room.” She giggled, leaning into him.

Harry smiled, pride gleaming in his eyes. “That’s m’girl.” He bent down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking the moment.

“Hi, Dylan.” Y/N turned to see him strolling down the stone steps, his blazer slung over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. She leaned back against Harry, crossing her arms.

“Hello, my darling Y/N,” Dylan teased, his tone playful as he lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

“Seriously, Dylan?” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you really need another detention?”

“Don’t you smoke, Styles?” Dylan shot back, grinning. “Besides, Mary would love to see me again after our chat earlier. She’s got a soft spot for me.” He smirked, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping away from Harry’s warmth. She was long used to Dylan’s antics—four and a half years of friendship had left little room for surprises.

The three of them had been inseparable since their first days at Southend Park Boarding School. Despite their differences in personality, they were like a family unit, supporting one another through the highs and lows of adolescence.

Dylan, the loudest of the trio, was notorious for his sharp wit and knack for trouble. Teachers despaired over his behavior, but students were drawn to his charm—especially the girls, who fell for his rebellious streak and the ever-present cigarette.

Harry, by contrast, was the golden boy: smart, polite, and beloved by staff. He balanced his role as student ambassador with captaining the football team, a position that made him one of the most popular boys in school. Dylan teasingly called him a “teacher’s pet,” but Harry wore the label without shame.

Y/N was the quietest of the three, rarely seeking the spotlight. She volunteered in the school library every Tuesday and spent her free time with her dorm mates. Still, Harry and Dylan were fiercely protective of her, and she often marveled at how lucky she was to have them.

The trio walked out of the school gates toward the housing blocks, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. Harry carried Y/N’s backpack on one shoulder, his free hand clasping hers. Dylan trailed behind, typing on his phone with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Ellis doesn’t want you bringing anything to the party this time, Dylan,” Y/N warned, glancing over her shoulder. “You know what happened last time. If you pull that again, you’re getting kicked out of school.”

“My darling Y/N,” Dylan began with exaggerated sincerity, pausing for effect, “only for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

When they reached her dorm, Y/N kissed Harry on the cheek and took her bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you both later?” she asked, her eyes bright.

Dylan saluted her without looking up from his phone, while Harry smiled warmly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Harry,” she replied before disappearing inside.

Harry and Dylan walked in silence toward their dorm. The tension was palpable, Dylan unusually quiet as Harry’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“We’re going to have to tell her at some point,” Dylan murmured, his voice low as the setting sun bathed the path in a golden glow.

Harry’s heart tightened. “No, we don’t.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up, Dylan. Nothing happened.” Harry’s voice was sharp, cutting Dylan off before he could continue.

They stopped, staring at each other, the air between them heavy. Harry’s frustration burned in his eyes, while Dylan’s sadness hung like a weight on his shoulders.

“I love her,” Harry finally said, his voice trembling. “I’ll never love anyone else as much as I love Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed into their dormitory, leaving Dylan alone on the pavement. Dylan exhaled shakily, the ache in his chest unbearable.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month since my fifteenth birthday, and Harry finally asked me out on a date. It feels like a dream, the kind where everything is so perfect you fear waking up to find it never happened.

To be honest, I think I’m already in love with him. He’s always been so kind to me, much more than Dylan. Harry carries my bag to class when I have netball, and sometimes, during English Literature, I catch him staring at me. There’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me feel seen.

In art class, he taught me how to use watercolors for the first time, his thumb brushing against mine as he guided me. Little moments like that remind me how much I care for him—so much that the thought of being without him feels unbearable. Is that dramatic? Probably. But I can’t help it if it’s true.

Even when I’m talking to Ellis during lunch or before bed, my mind wanders back to Harry—his smile, his eyes, the way he laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny, and how he hugs me differently from everyone else.

It feels strange to be fifteen and falling so deeply. What do I know about love at this age? How much further can I fall?

I think I’m going to love him forever. I hope he loves me forever too.

Dear Diary,

Harry kissed me today. My first kiss—with the boy I love most in the entire world.

I knew it was going to happen. We’d just finished dinner in the dining hall when he asked if I wanted to take a walk in the gardens. Dylan wanted to come along, but Harry shook his head, saying he wanted it to be just the two of us.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I looked back and saw Dylan standing there, his expression heavy as he watched us leave. He kept staring at Harry, even as we walked past the window overlooking the gardens.

Harry brought me to the tulips because he knows they’re my favorite. He said my braid looked pretty today, and that’s when I knew—I truly, completely loved him. It was the worst braid I’ve ever done, but he still thought it was beautiful.

We sat on a swinging bench, listening to birds returning to their nests. When he said my name, it sounded magical, like it had been made for his lips alone. I turned to look at him, and that’s when he leaned in and kissed me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

No one ever tells you what it’s like to kiss someone for the first time. The way their breath mingles with yours, the world fading away as you close your eyes and step into a place so tender it consumes you. It makes you wonder if you’ve ever been truly loved before.

We only stopped because we heard a rustling in the bushes. We looked around but didn’t find anything, so Harry walked me back to my dorm. He kissed me again outside the door, and I floated through the rest of the night, humming to myself as I got ready for bed.

But when I think back to that moment, I could swear I saw a tuft of blond hair sticking out from behind a bush.

. . .

Now — 2000

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of the mirror on Ellis’ floor, carefully applying mascara as Fiona Apple played softly in the background. Ellis sat nearby, painting her nails a deep red.

“I’m just saying,” Ellis began, waving the brush for emphasis, “you and Harry have been dating for two years, and you haven’t done the deed yet?”

Y/N flushed at the mention of sex, shifting uncomfortably. She hated talking about it, even with Harry. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about it or because she’d never had a safe space to ask questions, but every time the topic came up—whether in conversation or during truth or dare—she wanted to run for cover.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” Y/N said evenly, her voice robotic as she repeated the well-rehearsed answer.

“The right time?” Ellis scoffed. “I’ve never seen a couple more in love—it’s nauseating.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind drifting to moments when she’d wanted to take things further with Harry. But he always stopped before it went too far. Sometimes it made her feel like she wasn’t enough—pretty enough, desirable enough—but then he’d kiss her softly and remind her how beautiful she was, stroking her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve done... things, but not that.”

“Is Harry religious or something?” Ellis asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Y/N replied with a frown. “He’s never mentioned it.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until marriage,” Ellis mused.

The thought of marrying Harry made Y/N’s heart swell. She’d dreamed of it ever since their first kiss in the gardens—walking down the aisle in a white dress, Harry waiting for her at the end, tears in his eyes. Maybe they’d both cry.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Y/N said, her voice soft but certain. “I love him enough to wait as long as he needs me to.”

Ellis groaned, grabbing a bottle of vodka from her bedside table. “You can’t say stuff like that when I haven’t had a single drink.” She poured herself a shot and downed it in one go. “Okay, continue.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to her reflection, humming Queen’s Love of My Life as her thoughts drifted back to Harry.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Harry,

Today we went to the beach—the three of us. Me, you, and Y/N. I know in most situations it’s you, Y/N, then me, but in these letters, it will always be me and you.

We’d been planning this trip for weeks. It’s a three-hour drive to the coast from school, and Y/N had been complaining about the journey the entire time. I didn’t mind. Is it wrong of me to want to sit next to you on a bus full of people not one of them knowing who we are for three whole hours? Our knees touching for three whole hours? Sand on your feet and your hair salty from the sea, inhaling your scent and wanting your hand to touch my thigh for three whole hours?

When we got there, the morning was overcast, but by the time we hit the sand, the sun broke through the clouds. It was perfect. The light caught your skin, making it glisten, and your eyes shone with that impossible sea-glass green. I wanted to look into them forever, but you were too busy looking at Y/N.

I tried to catch your attention—touching your shoulder as I passed by, reaching for the beach bag at the same time as you, brushing my fingers against yours. But it didn’t matter. You only had eyes for her, and I only had eyes for you.

When you kissed her in the gardens, a part of me died. I had been pining for you for so long, silently hoping you’d see me, but it was always her. I felt stupid, running miles afterward, the wind howling in my ears: You fool, you idiot, how could he ever love you?

I didn’t want to feel this way, Harry. I tried to bury it, to pretend it wasn’t real, but when I met you, everything I’d hidden about myself unraveled.

The day wasn’t without its drama. Y/N, distracted, stepped into the road thinking the approaching van was the bus. You moved so fast, grabbing her and pulling her back before the van could hit her. I watched the terror flash across your face, the way you held her afterward as she cried. You kissed her forehead, comforted her, showed her the kind of love I’d only ever dreamed of.

And I hated her for it.

I feel terrible admitting this because I do love Y/N. I truly do. But most days, I hate her, and only because she has you.

When we finally got to the beach, the three of us ran toward the waves, shedding our clothes as we went, laughing like we were carefree children. For a moment, we were. We left our troubles behind in the sand.

You swung Y/N over your shoulder as you splashed into the water, and I couldn’t help but admire the way your muscles flexed. You were a work of art, Harry, something meant to be admired in a gallery. And I was nothing more than an observer, longing for what I could never have.

Later, Y/N went to get ice cream. Before she left, she asked for your order, and I already knew what you’d say—mint chocolate chip. The way she looked surprised made me feel smug for a second, but that quickly disappeared when she said it was her favorite too.

While she was gone, I felt a cramp in my shoulder. “Let me,” you murmured, and before I could answer, your fingertips ghosted over my shoulder, pressing into the tight muscle.

I couldn’t breathe, Harry. You were so close, your breath warm against my neck. For a split second, I thought if I just turned my head, I could kiss you.

I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Even if you do.

. . .

Now — 2000

Dylan and Harry were in their dorm room, preparing for the party. Harry stood in front of the mirror, anxiously gelling his hair back.

“I think I’m going to do it,” Harry said suddenly, turning to face Dylan. “I’m going to go all the way with Y/N.”

Dylan froze, his heart sinking. He lit a cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant as he perched on the windowsill. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His voice betrayed him, tinged with irritation and jealousy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying, are you sure it’s the right time to sleep with her? After... what happened?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Nothing happened. It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” Dylan said, standing now, his voice rising. “Like you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it. But I’ve imagined kissing you enough times to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching. “I was drunk, and you took advantage of me.”

The words hit Dylan like a slap, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Don’t try that with me, Harry. It might work in your petty arguments with Y/N, but it won’t work on me. You’re the one twisting the truth to fit your narrative.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Harry snapped. “I only care about Y/N. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need to step away—from both of us.”

“Step away?” Dylan said incredulously, his voice breaking. “You want me to walk away from the only two people who’ve ever cared about me? You want me to walk away from you?”

Harry hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “You know how I feel about Y/N. I love her. I’m in love with her. Even if I felt something for you, it would never compare.”

“You’re lying,” Dylan whispered, his eyes glassy. “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

“You don’t know anything!” Harry exploded, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you know what would happen if someone found out? What it would do to Y/N? To us? I felt nothing! It was a mistake!”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry cut him off. “Whatever feelings you have, whatever intentions, you need to get over them.”

“That’s not as easy as you think—”

“You have to.” Harry’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Dylan stared at him, shattered, as Harry turned and stormed out.

He left Dylan standing there, broken, feeling like Harry had taken his very soul with him.

. . .

Then — 1999

Dear Harry,

We’ve been assigned as partners in media class, and now we have to make a music video. Naturally, you asked Y/N if she’d star in it. You told her she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and that she’d be perfect for it. She blushed, of course, and said yes. Then you kissed her—so long and so deeply that I had to look away.

I imagined myself in her place, wondering what it would be like to kiss you in public, to have the world see how much I adored you. If it were allowed, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.

Today, we filmed the music video. You wanted it to feel like a coming-of-age story. I’d wanted something more abstract, but I agreed to your ideas, nodding eagerly at every suggestion, whether it was brilliant or terrible.

We filmed in the gardens—my least favorite place in the entire school. That’s where you kissed Y/N for the first time, and if I could erase that night from my memory, I would in a heartbeat.

The sun was shining as you whispered into Y/N’s ear while I set up the camera. I tried to block out the sound of your laughter, the sight of her hand on your shoulder.

“Are we ready?” I called, my voice louder than I intended. You straightened up immediately.

“Dylan, why don’t you be in the video with me?” Y/N smiled warmly. She had that rare ability to make everyone feel seen, like she was radiating sunshine. It was impossible not to smile back.

“My darling, you know I’m not nearly as perfect as you,” I teased, watching her blush.

I don’t even remember when I started calling her “my darling.” The first time, I remember catching the flash of jealousy in your eyes. I liked that. I liked seeing you react to me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted. You’re used to it now, but sometimes, when I say it, I still see a flicker of something in your gaze.

The music video took all day to shoot. Every time Y/N nailed a scene, you rewarded her with a kiss. I worked hard too, Harry. Shouldn’t I have been rewarded in some way?

When Y/N left for her library shift that evening, it was just the two of us. You wanted to capture the soft glow of the sunset, so we stayed behind to get more footage.

“My mother wants me to go into politics,” you said as we sat cross-legged on the grass, the camera between us. “But I’d love to do this—be a director. I’ve always wanted to be an artist of some kind. It’s a silly dream, but I think about it all the time.”

I could imagine it. You had a way of leading people, commanding attention without being arrogant. You cared so deeply—for the art, for the people—that it would probably destroy you someday.

“It’s not silly,” I said. “It’s never silly to dream. My God, Harry, we only live once. Might as well do everything we can to feel something in the little time we have.”

You looked at me then, really looked at me. For the first time, I thought you might be feeling a fraction of what I felt every day. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Y/N knows.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn you glanced at my lips.

Then, just as quickly, you diverted the topic. Grabbing the camera, you aimed it at me lying in the grass. “Looks like Y/N’s not the only model anymore,” you teased.

I tried to act indifferent, but I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant seeing you laugh like that.

It makes me wonder, Harry—do you know how much power you have over your friends? Do you know that you have two people who worship the ground you walk on? How does it feel to be desired? How does it feel to have a choice in who you love?

. . .

Now — 2000

“You’re here!” Y/N beamed, running into Harry’s arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing her temple before setting her down.

The party was already in full swing. Students from across campus had crammed into Ellis’ dorm, the air thick with music, laughter, and the faint smell of alcohol.

“Hi, Dylan,” Y/N greeted, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re dressed pretty smart. Planning on impressing anyone tonight?”

“Only you, darling,” Dylan replied, forcing a wink and a smirk despite the ache in his chest. Harry’s words from earlier still rang in his ears, but he pushed them aside.

Harry’s eyes darted to the cup in Y/N’s hand. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

“It’s water,” she whispered with a smile. Harry relaxed. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that.

“You look so pretty,” he said, marvelling at her dress. It was the one she wore for special occasions—one he had once told her was his favourite. A pang of guilt pricked at his heart as she looked back at him, her doe eyes filled with love.

“Come dance with me!” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Both of you! My boys!”

Harry and Dylan followed her to the dance floor. The song Love My Way blared through the speakers, and Y/N moved between them, carefree and radiant.

At first, Harry danced with her, his focus entirely on Y/N. But then his gaze shifted to Dylan, who was swaying along with the music. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Harry laughed when Dylan moved towards him and for a moment they had forgotten everything around them. Dylan was just Dylan and Harry was just Harry, two boys who felt something they weren’t allowed to feel in the eyes of everyone else.

Harry was so close, their faces almost touching and for a moment Dylan thought they might kiss. But the blissful moment was broken as Harry stepped away, shaking his head, “N-No.” He whispered, “No, No, No.” He shook his head, his eyes frantic in search of Y/N.

“O-Oh, Harry,” Y/N yelped as he grabbed hold of her hand and lead her out of Ellis’ dorm and over to her own, three doors down from where the party was happening.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” She cups his face in her hands and he exhales, trying to regain composure. This was the girl he loved, the only girl he could ever love and being in her hands felt like home. Didn’t it?

“Y-Y/N, I-I think I’m ready.” He presses his forehead against hers, kissing her bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Her lips part in shock. She hadn’t been expecting this tonight and she wasn’t sure where Harry’s sudden desperation was coming from. He kissed down her neck as she tried to speak to him, “H-Harry, a-are you sure?” He nodded, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“I love you Y/N.” He looked into her eyes and she saw the sincerity behind them but also a hint of something else that she couldn’t quite place.

He started to peel her clothing off, his fingertips gently brushing against her soft skin. She tried to steady her breathing but her chest caved in and out as the oxygen in the room seemed to be escaping as he moved down her body. “Harry,” She whispered and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Y/N was stripped down to her bra and underwear. This was the most skin she had revealed to anybody but she trusted Harry with everything in her, he was her best friend. He blew warm air over the thin material of her bra and her nipples hardened, an overwhelming sense of desire and lust flooding her insides. It was so new and overwhelming, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots.

“Baby,” He whispered, his hands cupping her thighs as he pressed kisses down her body.

“Harry, wait.” She murmured, his eyes looking up from where he was laying between her legs, “You’re still dressed.” She sat up and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

He laughed softly, as she struggled to pull the sweater over his head. She marvelled at the sound and kissed the tip of his nose. He pulled her onto his lap and she grinded her hips against his, “God look at you.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me Y/N. You can never leave me.”

“I’m never going to.” She said it like it was a promise.

His hands hooked the straps of her bra and he gently pulled them down, her breath hitching as the pad of his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck as he inhaled her.

This was going to be perfect, she thought, nothing could go wrong.

She grinded her hips against him again, a groan eliciting from his lip and a name escaping past the lips he had kissed her with so many times.

“Dylan.” Y/N froze. Her blood ran cold, and she pulled away as though Harry’s touch burned her.

“What did you say?” She pulled away, suddenly being naked in front of him didn’t feel right, being in a space alone with him didn’t feel right, everything she had ever felt for him before this moment didn’t feel right.

“Y/N,” He reached for her but she slipped away from him, slipped out of his touch, a touch she begged for just moments ago.

Harry’s heart no longer existed, wherever it was it had abandoned him and left him here in this terrible moment to fend for himself. He felt his eyes well up with tears as he watched Y/N try to pick up her discarded clothes. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, she was suppose to be picking up his clothes after a night making love to each other.

“Y-You said his name.” Y/N whimpered, she was panicking and Harry could do nothing but watch.

“Baby I-”

“NO.” She spat, “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Harry watched as she turned around and clutched at her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. She sobbed and sobbed, his hear wrenching at the sound of it. He had never heard a sound so painful in his life and he wanted to die in this very moment.

“No, No, No, No.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N please just let me explain.” Harry tried, crouching down in front of her and trying to place a hand on her now clothed shoulder.

“NO.” She pushed him away and leaped back, her back hitting the wall.

Harry was broken. He was truly broken. This was something well out of his reach in fixing and nothing he could do or say could make up for the fact that he had hurt the two people he loved and cherished the most in this world, in the span of one night.

“Get out of my room!” She began to scream, “Get out of here!”

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Hey, you guys in there?” Dylan’s voice called from the hallway.

Before Harry could respond, Y/N lunged for the door, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Get out of my room!” she screamed, her voice raw with betrayal.

Harry caught her before she reached Dylan, her fists pounding against his chest. “I’m broken,” she whimpered, her strength fading. “You broke me.”

And for the first time, Harry knew what it felt like to be utterly powerless.

. . .

Then — 2000

Dear Diary,

You know those secrets so big they feel like they could swallow you whole? The kind you promise never to tell a soul for as long as you live? At first, they consume you, taking over every thought and breath. But over time, they settle into the corners of your mind, a quiet part of you that only stirs when something triggers it.

Well, today I made one of those secrets.

It was a Tuesday, the day I volunteer in the library after school. There’s something peaceful about wandering the empty halls when no one else is around—a stark contrast to the chaos between periods. Mrs. Ableton asked me to deliver a stack of books to the English Literature cupboard. Our copies of The Catcher in the Rye were practically falling apart, so we’d ordered replacements.

As I walked through the hall, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the classroom where Harry and I have English together. Curious, I paused, almost dropping the books in my hands.

Harry was leaning against a desk, and Dylan stood in front of him. At first, I thought nothing of it and smiled, reaching for the door handle to make myself known. But then Dylan stepped closer, touched Harry’s hand, and kissed him.

I froze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The same lips that had kissed mine were now kissing the lips of my best friend.

I wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do anything but stand there, watching. A part of me hoped I was trapped in a nightmare—that I’d wake up, call Harry, and laugh about how silly it all was. But when Dylan pulled back, Harry grabbed his arm and kissed him again.

That time, I couldn’t watch.

I backed away, the tears finally falling. My mind raced as I searched for somewhere—anywhere—I could cry louder, scream even, because this wasn’t something I could cry about quietly.

Harry was mine. But he was also Dylan’s.

By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself I would confront them. I’d tell them I saw what happened and ask if we could move on, pretend it never happened. But as the hours stretched on, I realized I didn’t want to speak about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it, over and over.

I didn’t want to remember.

I just wanted Harry.

So, this is a secret I’ll take to my grave. I’ll never tell a soul I watched Harry kiss Dylan in a way he never kissed me.

Even if it breaks me.

. . .

Now — 2000

“What happened?” Dylan asked. They were back in his dorm now, Harry pacing the room like a caged animal.

“She knows,” Harry muttered, his fingers pulling at his hair—a habit whenever he was upset. “She knows about us, what we did.”

Dylan collapsed onto the bed, his face pale. “How?”

Harry stopped and turned to him, shame written all over his face. “I said your name.”

Dylan’s shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. Images of Y/N, broken and sobbing on her bedroom floor, flashed through his mind. She had begged them to fix her, but they were the ones who broke her.

“It’s fine,” Harry rambled, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll give her some time, however long she needs. Then I’ll explain. I’ll explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“Harry,” Dylan said gently, standing to take Harry’s hands in his own. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for Y/N to get over this.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped him as he crumpled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, resting his cheek against Harry’s head. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

“I hurt her so bad, Dylan,” Harry cried. “I love her, and I hurt her.”

“She was always going to find out,” Dylan said softly, the truth cutting deeper than any lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Harry whispered.

Dylan sighed. “Why do you always talk about how things are meant to be? You act like your life was mapped out before you left the womb. Was it ‘meant to be’ that the three of us became inseparable? That you fell in love with both of us because you care so deeply? That I fell in love with you because you see art in everything? None of this was ‘meant to be,’ Harry. It just happened. And now we deal with it.”

Harry pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You still love me? Even after I pushed you away?”

Dylan smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Harry’s cheek. “I love you despite everything.”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Dylan’s, and for a moment, it felt like all their pain had been lifted. “Dylan,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he said the name again and again, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You can say my name as much as you want, love,” Dylan murmured. “I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Three weeks passed and the friends were no longer talking to each other, instead they acted as though they didn’t know each other as they passed each other in the hallway.

Harry had to try and not flinch when he saw Y/N scurry pass him, her eyes red and bloodshot as Ellis comforted her, glaring at Harry as they did. He wanted to speak to her but he was never given the chance to, rightly so considering what he had done to her.

Dylan and Harry, mostly Harry, thought it would best to keep their distance for a while. It killed them both to not be around each other but for the sake of their friendship with Y/N, they shared small moments of brief eye contact and touches throughout the day. Neither of them knew what was to come for the both of them but this limbo was enough for now.

Dylan ate lunch alone and as he did, he listened to the conversations of everyone around him. He wondered what it felt like for them to go about their day feeling like they belong in their own skin and not feel ashamed over who they love. He had never felt so alienated and so out of touch with himself.

He had been given an after school detention for an hour with Mr Henley after calling him sexist in front of the class. No one was around when he left the classroom until he saw a group of girls walking across the field.

At the end of the line was Y/N, wearing her netball uniform.

She must have caught sight of him because the next thing he knew, she was walking up to him. He had to check behind him to see he was seeing correctly.

“Hi Dylan,” She keeps her distance for reasons unknown to him but being around her again made him relax, he missed the friendship he shared right at the very beginning when they were thirteen and picking each other up from class to go to the sweet shop after school.

“Hey Y/N.” He offers her a smile.

“How are you doing?” He didn’t miss the way she gripped her bag like she was trying to stop herself from saying anything she really wanted to.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” Y/N huffs, “I’ve had better days.” “Y/N-”

“Just tell me this,” She starts, “H-How long?”

Dylan decided he would be as honest and as straight to the point as he could be, it was what she deserved at least.

“Y/N the only thing we did was kiss one time. Harry stopped it because he’s in love with you.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-Yes.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “We could never just be three best friends could we? It was always going to be complicated.”

“We could still be best friends Y/N.”

“But it’s not the same now is it?” She bit back and Dylan realised he needed to be careful with what he said. “Is he sad?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I hear him crying in his room at night.”

A silence fell between them which was strange. Y/N and Dylan has always had a brother-sister relationship, Dylan was always one to tease Y/N and make her laugh but right now it seemed all he was doing was making her upset.

“I’m moving schools.” Y/N confessed, “At the end of the term, I’m moving to Bridgewater. Mum’s moving in with her fiancee, and she wants me to be closer.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Dylan was shocked.

“I was given the choice. I could stay here or move to another school but if I stayed I’d have to stay at my dad’s during the holidays and I’m not in the mood to be lectured during my time away from school.”

Dylan didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t fathom the three of them not being together for such a long period of time. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I need to tell him but if we are going to have a shot at being friends again, I need to be away from you both.”

“Y/N,” Dylan shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to be like this,”

“You know I saw you when you kissed each other in the English Literature classroom?” She confessed, Dylan’s lips parting. “He kissed you in a way that he never kissed me. Everytime we kissed afterwards all I could think about was how different it was, how I desperately wanted him to kiss me the way I had seen him kiss you. I used to write in my diary about how I would die if I didn’t have him near me. I thought he would be the end of me but I didn’t realise you would be too.”

“I know he loves you Dylan and... I’m happy for you but I’m not selfless enough to stand beside you both and watch you fall in love when I so desperately love him too.”

“Y/N,” Dylan reaches out for her hand and takes it, “I’m sorry.” “I know Dylan, I know.”

. . .

Now — 2000

Harry’s leg wouldn’t stop jittering as he sat outside the school library on a Tuesday evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in his mind. He had spent countless hours rehearsing his apology to Y/N until it became a permanent loop in his thoughts.

When the library door swung open, he shot up immediately, brushing down his school trousers and running a hand through his hair. Y/N stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She looked better than she had in weeks, and Harry’s heart ached at the sight of her. He would have carried her bag for her if they were still together.

Her expression changed when she saw him, her voice barely above a whisper. “H-Harry.”

“I came,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I-I couldn’t believe it when I got your text. I’d have waited here for hours if you hadn’t shown up.”

Her face softened briefly, but she walked past him. “Follow me,” she said simply.

He trailed behind her as she led him to the gardens—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and filmed the music video for his and Dylan’s project. It was a space filled with memories of the three of them: Y/N doing homework, Dylan reading, and Harry strumming his guitar.

They sat down on the swinging bench, a familiar seat now heavy with unspoken tension. Harry noticed she kept her distance, and though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her close, he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Who gave you those?” Harry finally asked, nodding at the flowers in her hand. A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Debbie,” she said, referring to the school librarian. “It’s my last day working at the library.”

“You quit?” Harry frowned, his gaze flicking from the flowers to her face.

Y/N inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m leaving, Harry.”

The wind seemed to leave him. “N-No,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You—you can’t. You can’t just leave. I won’t let you—”

“Harry,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently in her lap. “It’s what’s best.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, trying to pull his hand away, though her warmth made it impossible. “How can you say it’s what’s best? The three of us—we’re supposed to be together.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. He looked thinner, more tired than she’d ever seen him, but she couldn’t help him—not anymore.

“Y/N, the thing with Dylan...” Harry began, his voice cracking. “I-I never meant for it to happen. We were just alone, I was stressed, and my emotions got the better of me. But I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you.”

She shook her head softly. “Maybe that’s true, but not in the way you think. Dylan has always been there for you, Harry, in ways I never could. The way you look at him... it’s like he hung the stars in the sky just for you, like he tilted the sun so it would never blind you but still brighten your world.

“Maybe you do love me,” she continued, her voice trembling, “but love isn’t just about taking care of someone. It’s not carrying my backpack because it’s too heavy or doing my homework when I’m too tired after netball. Love is about being vulnerable. It’s about being taken care of, about laughing and crying and feeling like your heart is burning, and nothing can put it out.

“Now tell me, Harry. Did you ever feel that way with me? Were you ever vulnerable with me?”

Harry’s heart cracked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“Please, Y/N,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I can’t be without you.”

“You have Dylan,” she said, trying to be the bigger person even though it shattered her inside. “It was never going to be me, Harry. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

Harry looked down at the ground, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her heart broke all over again, but she forced herself to stay strong. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“Because, Harry,” she said gently, “what good would it do for the three of us if I stayed? You need to find out who you are, and so do I. Before me, it was you and Dylan. Now, it will end that way - with you and Dylan.”

“And what about you?” he asked desperately. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful for what I’ve had. You and Dylan will always be a part of me. I hope one day we’ll forget this pain, and everything will be okay again.”

She reached out, brushing his hair back the way she used to. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much, I feel like I could burst.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. For the first time, he meant it in a way that felt true—not as a lover, but as a best friend.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And tell him you love him.”

Harry nodded as the tears fell freely, clinging to her like a child who didn’t want to let go.

She was going to love him forever. She now knew he wouldn’t.

. . .

“She’s gone,” Dylan said softly from the doorway of Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sat at his desk, a pen still in his hand though it hovered, unmoving, above the page. “Was she alright?” he murmured.

“She was better than we probably thought,” Dylan admitted, realizing how much they’d underestimated Y/N’s strength. They’d always thought it was their job to protect her, but she’d always been stronger than the two of them combined.

“Right,” Harry muttered, his voice hollow.

Dylan moved to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “I was thinking we could have the leftover soup for dinner instead of going to the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied—a rare admission from someone who was always hungry.

Dylan frowned. “How long are you going to wallow in this? Can’t you see we’re both trying to do the right thing for your benefit?”

Harry turned to him, anger flashing in his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance,” Dylan snapped. “Acting like we’re strangers when we’re the complete opposite. Do you know how much it kills me to not be near you? To have to hide from myself?”

Harry stood abruptly. “And you think I’m not struggling? You think I haven’t been grappling with everything I feel?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Dylan shouted, standing to meet Harry’s gaze. “You had someone who loved you for two whole years. You have everything, Harry—loving parents, the best grades, popularity. And you act like it’s all been taken from you because I kissed you!”

“Y/N is gone because of us!” Harry yelled back.

“No,” Dylan said fiercely, his voice rising. “She’s gone because of you! Because you’re too afraid to be honest about who you are! Because you care too much about what everyone else thinks. That’s why she’s gone!”

Their faces were inches apart, their anger radiating in the small space between them.

“How dare you? Can’t you see this is difficult for me to accept?” Harry shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration.

“What is?” Dylan snapped back, stepping closer. “What is so difficult, Harry? What’s so hard that you have to sit in the dark and ignore the only two people who’ve ever truly cared about you? Huh? What is it? Tell me. TELL ME.”

“I am in love with you!” Harry yelled, the words ripping out of him like they had been clawing to escape for years. “I am a fool, and I am in love with you.”

Dylan froze, stunned. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of Harry’s confession settled over him. The words he had dreamed of hearing for years hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

“What?” Dylan managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you,” Harry said, his voice softer now but no less raw. “And it’s been killing me every day since. I think of you—daily, nightly, every moment in between—and it tears me apart. Kissing you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and denying it afterward made me a coward. But here I am now, standing in front of you, a man stupidly, hopelessly in love with his best friend.”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, the weight of years of unspoken emotion etched into his every feature.

Dylan stared at him, speechless. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was real, the depth of Harry’s vulnerability left him breathless.

“Kiss me,” Dylan whispered, his voice breaking. “Kiss me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands as though it had been crafted to fit perfectly in his palms. Then he kissed him—fervent and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that singular moment.

Dylan’s world ignited. A piece of him that had been dormant for years finally came alive. His heart and mind, long at odds, now burned in harmony as Harry’s lips moved against his. He felt consumed, but in the most beautiful way, as if he could lose himself in Harry forever and never once regret it.

“I love you too, Harry,” Dylan whispered when they finally parted, their foreheads resting together.

“I bloody well hope so,” Harry murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

. . .

Now

Dear Harry,

I’d like to tell you a story that will more than likely make you happy.

One day, I was sat in a café, only a twenty-minute walk away from Southend Park School, which is closed down now and turned into a factory to fix airplanes. I bought my usual order of a decaf cappuccino and a slice of toffee apple cake. On this particular day, they added more sugar to my cappuccino, so I knew it would be a good day.

Across from me, a woman sat, her dog lying down at her feet as she read The Catcher in the Rye whilst sipping on a fruit tea. I didn’t think much of it, but I found it interesting the way she would read something and then shakily jot something down in the little notebook on the table.

Anyway, I had originally come to the café so I could write about our trip to Brighton. You were still complaining about the sand in your clothes just last night despite the fact that Brighton has no sand.

“It’s alright, love,” I comforted you, helping you put your pyjamas on.

“It bothers me, Dylan.” You responded, coughing into your handkerchief.

We don’t leave our small bungalow very often because you don’t like to leave the dogs and I don’t like change, but this trip to Brighton was one we had been planning for a year or so, so we didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

We spent a lot of time sat on the beach in the evenings whilst we were there, a blanket wrapped around the both of us as we fed the seagulls. I remember you saying you liked the sound of the ocean because it made you feel like we were seventeen again, running into the ocean without a care in the world.

You then proceeded to mention how worried you are about our Y/N, “I hope she’s doing alright, our Y/N.” You said and then went back to talking about a programme you watched the night before.

You had always worried about Y/N in the years after she left, always asking where she was or what she was up to despite the fact we never got in contact with her again. I also wonder whether or not she is okay, and I knew that if I were to see her again, I would thank her for allowing us the space to fall in love.

It was awfully difficult those months after we kissed in your bedroom. We were constantly berated by people we had never spoken to before, and I knew it bothered you for a while, but we overcame it just like we did every other obstacle in our lives... together.

Anyway, as I continued to write about our trip, the door to the café opened again and three middle-aged people walked over to the elderly lady in the corner. “Come on Mum, we’ve got to say goodbye to Dad now,” the man spoke to her, and she swatted him away. Something about that small action gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Give me a moment,” the woman responded, and the three children sat at the table in the chairs around her.

Eventually, they managed to get her standing up. One of them placed her coat around her shoulders, and another handed her her walking stick. When she turned to look at me, I saw a familiar set of eyes looking straight at me.

The three people aiding her walked to the door and held it open for her. As she was about to step out the door, her walking stick fell out of her shaky hands and right at my feet. I quickly picked it up and handed it to her, her face brightening at the sight of me.

“Thank you.” Her voice still sounded the same all that time ago.

“No... Thank you, my darling.”

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

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mvltisstuff · 4 months ago

Note

hii!! i hope you’re well :) i haven’t seen anyone write a fic for ravi panikkar (he deserves the whole world fr) so i’ve got a request hehe, if that’s okay?

could you write a fic where reader and ravi secretly like each other but are both too awkward to admit it so the 118 always tease them and try to set them up together? maybe in the end they both confess their feelings to each other after one of them gets badly injured when attending a rescue?

im soo sorry if this is too long and feel free to ignore this request if you’d like <33 thank youuu 🫶

suburban legends (pt.1) - r.p

summary: request

ravi panikkar x reader

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope this does it justice and you enjoy :)) This WILL have a second part!! i just wanted to get something out for u today :))

everyone knew that y/n and ravi were pretty much the baby siblings of the rest of the crew at the 118. they all got so attached to each other, but for some reason, ravi and y/n always managed to strengthen the distance between them. it was like a family photo, each of them on other ends.

y/n came into the picture a bit after ravi did, instantly clicking with everyone. she was incredibly bright for her age and being so new, so she was perfect to have on the team. ravi was quick and selfless, making him another must-have when bobby was looking for new probies. he could already envision y/n and ravi being just like buck and eddie, or chim and hen.

however, bobby’s ideas were slowed down by their stubbornness. as soon as y/n walked into the station, she got nervous whenever ravi was near. the first time she laid eyes on him, it was evident on her face that she had a little crush forming. ravi, too, kept asking bobby and his other coworkers questions about the new girl, but only getting teasing replies back. y/n and ravi, out of their own anxieties, would exchange a couple sentences a day, and they would be on calls. they seemed like strangers when out of uniform, and none of the team liked it.

they’ve been plotting small things for weeks to get them to talk to each other, like bringing the team out for drinks, or dinner after a call. none of it seemed to work, because they both found loopholes of how not to be surrounded by each other. in buck and eddie’s eyes, it seemed like ravi needed a pep talk.

“hey, ravi!” buck called, while walking besides eddie into the kitchen. ravi was at the table, eating leftovers from dinner the night before. it had been a slow day, so he took the time he had to eat. “we need some advice.”

“yeah, we’re getting old, we need to know what it’s like these days from a younger perspective.” eddie adds, sitting down across from ravi and buck copies.

“okay, with what?”

“so, we both like these girls, and,” eddie turns to look at buck, who nods along. “we need your advice on how to get them. you know, times are always changing and girls like different things now.”

“you guys aren’t even that old-“

“oh, ravi, please,” buck groans. “i feel my knees deteriorating every day and eddie found a grey beard hair the other day.”

“oh, go on, i guess.”

“anyway, this girl, she’s so smart, like amazingly smart.” eddie starts, thinking of ways to describe y/n. “she’s got these eyes that hunt me down and she always has her hair up nice.”

“and mine, she is always on time and never slowed down. she’s passionate and so gorgeous.” buck includes as ravi just shoves more food into his mouth.

“well, what does she do?”

“they’re both firefighters. we met them at the…” eddie starts.

“the bar.” buck finishes for him.

“i play hard to get.” ravi starts spilling, and buck and eddie lean in closer. “the less attention you give, the more they want you. it’ll make it more exciting when they start making more moves. but, you also don’t want to get too attached because she might not want a real relationship. people just want sex these days and i don’t want to make things awkward because we both work at the same station. putting a gap between the two of you works, but it feels like shit, but at least you’ll feel like shit together.”

“mhm, so just ignore her all the time and do everything i can to avoid her?” buck questions, squinting at ravi.

“no, not exactly-“

“isn’t that what you do though?” eddie replies.

“sorry?”

“we’re not dumb, panikkar. your big feelings for y/n are so obvious that it’s the only thing we talk about here these days. do you know how much money i’ve lost because of you two?”

“that’s true, i win all the bets.” buck chimes in.

“i don’t have feelings for-“

“don’t start lying to us now,” eddie sings.

“i’m not ly-“

“you’re lying!” buck sings in the same tone as eddie.

“i don’t really like you guys!” ravi says, putting his fork down.

“well, that doesn’t matter, because you like y/n and she fancies you.” buck tells him.

“wait, did she tell you that?” buck and eddie sigh at his excitement.

“she’s polishing the trucks and she needs an extra hand. and, buck and i, we just don’t want to. and bobby said we can tell you what to do.” eddie says.

“no, he didn’t.” buck hands ravi a cloth and jerks his head in y/n’s direction. “fine. but if this backfires, its on you.”

as ravi heads down the stairs, he stands next to y/n and tosses the rag around nervously. “figured i’d give you a hand.”

hen and chim, on the other engine, turn their heads and stare at the pair, but buck and eddie come back and remind them to not bother y/n and ravi. they were like deer, once you make too much noise they run away.

“oh, thanks,” y/n smiles. “this is my least favorite thing to do.”

“that’s how i feel with cleaning the kitchen, it’s so boring.”

“i don’t mind the kitchen, actually.”

“i’ve been putting it off,” ravi laughs, smearing more polish onto the red, shiny vehicle.

“i can go do it for you, if you want.” y/n offers. ravi does not want her to, because it feels like they’re actually going somewhere now.

“uh,” he hesitates. “sure! only if you want.”

“it’s no problem.” y/n grins and starts making her way upstairs.

buck and eddie come stand next to ravi, shaking their heads in disapproval at the way things just happened.

stuff like this continued to happen for days, ravi would get too close, and y/n would run off. he didn’t understand why she would get so nervous when he’d come around. he figured he’d just give up, no use in getting the girl when she doesn’t want it.

ravi finally thought he had her right where he wanted her. he went upstairs to help her in the kitchen, after taking his chore again to try and help. but, the alarm blaring through the station quickly paused things, like always.

#911onfox #evan buckley #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley fanfic #ravi panikkar #ravi panikkar x reader #ravi 911 #911 ravi #ravi panikkar fic #ravi panikkar fanfic #ravi panikkar one shot #chimney 911 #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 abc #911 show

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celestialtarot11 · 1 year ago

Text

Small astro observations ☕️🤍

• Those with cancer moon in the 1st house come across “witchy,” some may even describe them as moody or reserved. There’s a certain kind of witchyness in them that I like 👀 my best friend has this placement, and she knows how to read peoples energy just by looking at them. I believe that’s her source of witchyness.

• She also has a youthful, round face. Being ruled by moon, her features are softer and delicate.

• Also, her moon is in Leo. This astrological polarity creates lots of unique sides in the native. Other people may think of these sides as “contradictory,” but the native can be very deep as a person. They explore all parts of themselves, and if they haven’t, part of their mission in their lifetime is to embrace all aspects of themselves, regardless of what others think.

• Jupiter in Leo people don’t chase that bag 💅🏻 they CREATE. They do enjoy when others buy things for them and when men especially (if the woman has this placement) provide for them financially. Men with this placement don’t like to rely on others for money, their pride comes with having a lot of money under their belt.

• Pluto in the 2nd house goes through radical financial changes. Whether that’s due to an issue with being careless with their money, to an event happening outside of them that causes them to struggle financially. The native does not feel secure financially and feels worried. Depending on the aspects in the natives chart, they can attract abundance just as easily as they lost their bag 💅🏻

• Earth mercuries and leaving their phone on DND, or ignoring notifications to preserve their peace 😌👋 hi ya’ll.

• A capricorns loyalty is not one to be messed with, especially if the native has healed past wounds, and is self aware. They have the ability to hold themselves accountable and do better. However, I’ve noticed capricorns who haven’t worked through their past issues have no problem leaving you to struggle, and only coming back when they need help.

• Male capricorns, if your father figure was not structured and present emotionally, do yourself a favor and go to therapy ☕️🤷🏻‍♀️ it’ll help you tons. Especially those with Saturn retrograde in the chart, because Saturn represents the father. If the natives sun placement is afflicted, the same applies here.

• I knew a guy with Saturn in the 10th house retrograde definitely had daddy issues growing up, and still does. The father relies on his child to be cared for, instead of the other way around. The father finds himself struggling to provide basic living, so the child takes on the stress of providing for the parent at a young age.

• Virgo placements & libra…what’s up with wanting to be hidden? I’ve met a man who at the time was struggling mentally, was borderline checking out of reality. He couldn’t hold a proper conversation without his head being lost in some far land 🤣 every topic was too vague, and too abstract for it to make sense. And as soon as I asked his placement and guessed it correctly, he gave me a look and said he didn’t like what I knew of him. He was bothered and seen 👀

• Virgo venus, ya’ll females are so beautiful. Even though venus doesn’t like it here, there’s something so beautiful, and effortless about these individuals. They may have a mature look depending on their other placements, and aspects.

Thats all I have! Thank you all for reading and supporting 👋☺️ this was fun to create. Feel free to add on and share your thoughts!

Book a reading with me here 🤍

#astrology #devi post #astrology community #divination #witchcraft #astro #astrology notes #astro notes #astrology observations

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reccyls · 6 months ago

Text

Beyond the Merging of Then and Now (Leon story)

Leon's 4th anniversary story sale, where child Leon is brought to the future to meet Emma and current Leon

---

It was a morning just like any other, and as Leon and I returned together to our room with breakfast... We found a small boy in Leon's room.

Emma & ???: ......

(Black hair and amber eyes... he looks exactly like Leon!)

Leon: Are you--

(Does Leon know him?)

Leon: --Leon Dompteur?

("Leon"!? They do look identical, true... so is this...?)

Young Leon: ...That's right. And you are?

Leon: I'm also Leon. More accurately, an adult version of you.

(...It's something right out of a novel. But seeing it happen right in front of my eyes, I have no choice but to believe it.) (And now that I think about it... I can believe it. This lonely looking boy really does seem to be Leon as a child.)

Young Leon: You're an adult me...? Do you have any proof?

Leon: Proof? Well, you must have already realized, but we look nearly identical. Leon: There is nobody else here who looks like us. After all, isn't that the reason you came here in the first place?

Young Leon: ...I'm the only person left in the whole world who knows "that secret." Young Leon: So you must be telling the truth. And that means... I'm in the future?

(He's able to accept such an unrealistic situation so calmly. I guess Leon is Leon, no matter what age he's at.)

Leon: Seems like it. Ah, one correction, though: I'm not the only one who knows our secret anymore. Leon: Emma here also knows.

Young Leon: ...Who is she?

Leon: Emma is...

Emma: Hi there, Leon. I'm your future self's fiancée.

Young Leon: ...You know everything, and you still want to marry me...?

(He looks like he doesn't believe me. Considering his situation, I suppose I should have expected that.) (But... I've always wanted to meet Leon when he was younger.) (To be there at his side. To support him, to hold him close.) (...So I want him to believe me.)

Emma: I do. Because I love you.

Young Leon: ...

Leon: Leon, your future fiancée is an amazing woman, you know? Your future will be bright, and full of happiness. Leon: Well, that's future talk. For now... how about we go play outside?

(....Play?)

Young Leon: I can't. As long as I'm Leon, I have things I need to do.

Leon: But here and now, I'm "Leon". You are just a kid. Leon: And there's only one thing that kids need to do: play and have fun to their heart's content.

(Right, he is just a child...)

Leon: This kind of chance doesn't come around very often. We've got to make the most of it, don't we?

(Leon has never had the chance to be "just a kid".) (And that's why, he wants to give this child version of himself the opportunity he never had.) (So in that case...)

Emma: Hey, why don't we go out and have a picnic together? We can play a lot, and we can enjoy lunch and snacks outside too. Emma: I'll make the best lunch you've ever had. We can have a lot of meat, how does that sound?

Young Leon: Meat...

(Looks like he's interested! One more little push...)

Emma: I'm planning to make some roast beef sandwiches, and some thick cut steaks... Emma: And maybe some stewed meats, and lots of other meat-based dishes too.

Young Leon: ...It sounds tasty...

(Aww, how cute!)

Leon: So we're decided. Leon: Emma's cooking is the best in the world. Look forward to it, Leon.

--scene change, meadow--

Leon: Looks like great weather today. Perfect for a picnic. So, let's start with having some fun.

Young Leon: What things do to have fun?

(Looks like Leon isn't sure what he should be doing.) (But he's fidgeting like he's excited.)

Emma: I found a book that describes a bunch of games we can play outdoors like this. Let's start with reading it together.

Young Leon: ...A book?

Emma: I know you're not great with books. But I'd be very happy if you listened while I read. Emma: So, I'll start now. "There are many games perfect for the outdoors, where you can feel the wind whipping around you..."

...

Emma: Okay, I'm going to throw this acorn over there. The first person to find it, wins. Everyone ready?

Leon & Young Leon: Yes!

Emma: Ready, set, go!

Leon: I'll be going first.

Young Leon: He's fast... But I can run too...!

(Leon's running with all his might, and little Leon is too!) (I can't let them show me up, I've got to step it up too!)

...

(...I'm... so tired..........)

Leon: Well, it's about time for lunch. I'm eager to try what Emma's made for today.

Young Leon: Me too... I'm hungry too.

Emma: I've unpacked everything, so come on and sit.

Leon: Everything looks delicious. That's my Emma.

Young Leon: .......I can really eat this?

Emma: Of course! I made enough for all of us.

Young Leon: Thank you. .....It's really good. It really is the best in the world.

(His eyes are sparkling... I'm feeling a little embarrassed.)

Leon: Told you. Everything's delicious, but this one especially. It's definitely my favorite.

Young Leon: Hey, I wanted that! ...You eat too much, Leon. Young Leon: And... you're more childish than I thought you would be. Young Leon: I always thought that "Leon" should be really mature...

Leon: Yeah. I thought the same. However... I'm really happy about being childish.

(Because Leon can be his true self. I'm glad.)

Young Leon: ...Why?

Leon: You'll understand one day. When you meet Emma in your world, and fall in love.

(Leon looks so gentle right now.)

Young Leon: Okay... Well, whatever. Anyway, that flower...

(Why did he suddenly stand up? Hm?) (....My head? Aw, he tucked it into my hair!) (What a lovely gift. Leon really is Leon, after all.)

Leon: Heh, trying to steal Emma from me? Looks like I can't let my guard down even around myself.

Young Leon: I'm not trying to steal her. You look after my future self, right? Young Leon: I just want to say thank you... I thought the flower would look nice with your hair...

(Oh my gosh, how adorable...!)

--scene change, leon's room, sunset--

Leon: And to bed now... there we go.

Emma: He really is sleeping deeply. He probably isn't going to wake up until next morning.

Leon: I've never played this much when I was young. It probably tired him out.

Emma: He's so cute... He seems a lot more mature when he's awake, but he is much more relaxed when he's asleep.

Leon: It's because you accept him as he is. Leon: He can relax because he doesn't have to put up his guard around you. I know, because I'm him. Thank you for today.

Emma: Don't thank me, it's something I'm happy to do. He is you, after all. Emma: ...I've always wanted to meet you when you were younger. Emma: So I'm very happy he's here today.

(...You aren't alone anymore, little Leon. Leon and I are both here for you.) (So be an ordinary child. Be yourself.)

As I stroked his hair, hoping to convey to him my feelings, his little body curled closer towards mine.

#ikemen prince #leon (ikepri)#my translation

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katasstrophy · 2 years ago

Note

Bruh Nagi being buff as hell after Manshine's training 🥰🥰🥰

sammy you deadass bout to make me objectify this man on main SO BAD this has been running something of a small marathon in my head so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 pls accept my humble word vomit

cw. [n]sfw. mdni. pro player! nagi + aged-up characters. bit of body worship(?) you ride his abs. nipple play (m. receiving). subby nagi (but he's actually a switch >:) + some fluff bc he's so baby :(

note. a bit rambly oop soz it’s bc i went insane. i describe how he looks like to ME (re: hot as fuck) but i guess y'all can read it too hehe<3

1.4k words -> how could you ever hope to keep your hands to yourself when nagi's body looks like that.

i feel like unless you have prior knowledge of the fact that nagi is a pro athlete, from a cursory glance, your first thought upon seeing him wouldn’t be “hmm i bet that dude is built like a brick house.” it doesn’t help that nagi’s basically the unofficial king of athleisure — his closet’s chockfull of loose-fitting hoodies and sweats. he barely owns anything else besides those monochrome hooded tracksuits (and sportswear for practice, i guess he’d need some of that too lol) because he claims it’s the only outfit that gives him unlimited access to just lounge about basically anywhere he pleases. it’s what he genuinely finds to be the most comfortable style for him as well. but if you’re fortunate enough to get a peak underneath the layers of baggy clothes? dear god nagi’s built like a fever dream. amen you’ll eat so good then he’s a whole ass feast.

i’m gonna brazenly speak my truth here so don’t come for me >:( but! from what you’d consider to be “a typical footballer’s physique”, purely from that perspective, nagi’s legs are… not that impressive. his stagnant motivation has much improved ever since he committed to making a career out of soccer, but that doesn’t mean his slacker tendencies haven’t followed suit. don’t get me wrong, he still puts his all into every game so his legs are still very much capable of making your mouth water, but you won’t catch him sprinting up and down the field at full speed if he can help it. packed with lean muscle, his thighs are thick, calves well-defined with a few bold veins thinly zigzagging down the taut skin like a lightning strike on the occasion you happen to catch him after a particularly gruelling conditioning session. but compared to some of his teammates whose legs seem to be carved from iron, he’s a bit.. overshadowed.

it’s a fairly similar story with his arms. (i promise i’m not just talking shit lol i could NEVER my poor meow meow it’s gonna get so hot in a second i swear just bear with me!!!) again, it’s most definitely a drool-worthy sight. the stretch of his arms is long and sinewy, rolling with a set of generous biceps that flutter under the gentle scrap of your fingerpads and nails when he (totally intentionally) flexes the swell of muscle there. in his profession, he mostly uses his arms for balance and to create distance between himself and his opponents. buried in his private nook back home, he has a tendency to hold his phone above his head while playing mobile games — that blissfully only rarely come crashing down on his face — but his unrivalled favourite will, of course, always be enveloping you in his arms <3

nagi’s not the most expressive person, but his subtle social cues become much easier to pick up on whenever he’s sleepy, which let’s be honest is almost always. he’s in dire need of a snuggle in those moments and not only loves, but craves being close to you physically, his face a canvas of huffy evidence of what a Big Deal this is to him if you learn to read the hidden hints (it’s a pursed, pouty frown nine times out of ten he ain’t slick lmfao). he kind of regards your presence as his “recharging station” what a cringe fail soggy loser man i adore him with my whole heart 🥹 his lanky limbs will snake around you with the security of a vine until you’re all cosy and wrapped up in each other, his hold bearing enough strength to not budge against any playful escape tactics you might attempt — at least not until he decides he’s had his fair share of quality snuggle time with you.

nagi’s a practical man, however — the world doesn’t call him a lazy genius for nothing. for these, albeit lovely, purposes, he determined there’s absolutely no need to overexert himself by lifting weights to buff up his arms. he can get by just fine! there are definitely more jacked arms out there i’m sorry :(

but here’s the kicker. nagi’s tall. you could even say he’s huge — he’d tower over most people if he actually straightened his posture for once. so his muscle mass kind of stretches out a bit… unevenly throughout his body. he does have muscle mass though, plenty of it, actually, and he needs only to do one tiny little thing to remind you of it: lift his shirt up.

it’s a subconscious, everyday thing for nagi to toy with the hem of his cotton tees. his fingers often grow restless if they’re just lying about, so playing with the material of his clothes is not only stupidly ready at hand but also helps to soothe the itch brimming along his fingers to do something with them. in the process, you’re rewarded with glimpses of his stomach often when he involuntarily ends up exposing the skin clinging to those hard planes. but what’s objectively worse for your sanity is when nagi comes trudging into the kitchen to ease his thirst. he never bothers with a glass from the cupboard, just swoops down to drink from the open tap, his adam’s apple bopping rhythmically as he swallows. there’s water coating his lips when he rises, a few droplets still running down his chin that he tugs on the ends of his t-shirt to lazily wipe away. it’s an innocent endeavour to him, but a sinful display for you, as it essentially shows off his entire, deliciously shaped midriff. nagi might slack off in other areas, but his core strength is insane. his torso is like a gift from the heavens, chiselled after the image of their gods and heroes. don’t even get me started on his abs.

because i cannot stress enough how perfect nagi’s abs are for grinding your sweet, drooling little cunny on :( the ridges of muscle packed together at his abdomen are firm, but twitch almost uncontrollably when you slowly drag your cunt up and down the sculpted slabs of his stomach that bump against your poor, swollen clit in a way that makes you delirious. your thighs bracket his waist as you move, his waist that is so trim and almost tiny compared to the broad stretch of his shoulders. you can feel the coarse, light hair of his happy trail graze against your bare ass, leading to his heavy, stirring cock still confined in his sweats for now as you continue to leisurely rut your pussy down his abs, leaving a slick mess behind. the hard cut of his v-line is so prominent a thin contour of shadow clings to the underside of it.

nagi wishes desperately that he could help you, that he could sink his fingers into the plush of your skin and push you down along his abdomen to accelerate your high, dictate a more intense pace for you by his hands and make you take it, but he’s too busy being a moaning, blubbering mess underneath you to take initiative. his large palm lies dormant at your waist, the other tangled in his snowy, sweaty bangs so he doesn’t miss even a blink of the intoxicating vision you present above him. he’s drunk on every salacious sound that comes tumbling from your lips, every wanton contortion of your gorgeous face as the lewd squelching of your pussy fills his ears. his defined chest is flushed red from arousal, shuddering with shaky exhales as he all but devours the sight of you — he thinks you using him for your own pleasure is so fucking hot.

if you want to turn him into an utter wreck, whining like a bitch in heat, please please play with his nipples :( paw at his pecs all needy first, ‘n don’t be afraid to grip the flesh with the blunt of your nails. he’ll mewl about it, but you only need to shush and praise him, tell him how good he looks like this for you and he’ll behave. pinch at the pretty pink of his pebbled nipples, gently circle his areola with your tongue, sucking on the bud and nagi will lose his mind, might even cum untouched :( but that’s okay because he’s so turned on his refractory period is barely an issue, he’ll sink into your tight, sloppy walls in one go and fuck you absolutely senseless on his cock. it’s all you can do to scramble for purchase with your trembling fingers, marking up the milky expanse of his broad back and mouthing at his collarbones to stifle your near pornographic keens and cries as he mercilessly splits you open.

in conclusion nagi seishiro is built like a wet dream and i want him carnally </3

#i rewrote this like three times so i’m just releasing it into wild now bc i’m sick of it lol!! i retain my right for this to be sucky hehe #haven’t written anything in a hot minute but if this causes at least one (1) person to short circuit my job here is done #nagi smut #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #—bllk.thirsts!#—riv.fic!

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lightlycareless · 3 months ago

Note

what would naoyas reaction be to finding out Satoru was y/ns first kiss?

Hello!!

Well, it would be chaos. LOL. Poor Naoya is very insecure even if it doesn't look like it 🤣 but why say this when I can show you?

warnings: fluff. a jealous naoya. satoru is a jerk? maybe. he likes to be silly. a lot. too much. also not sure if to tag this as a regular prompt or a side story, but considering that happened in my fic... i've decided to take it as a small side story.

Happy reading!

He would lose it. Even if you explained that it was nothing but a bet, curiosity getting the best of you and no feelings involved, Naoya would take this as a quick starter for his one-sided competition against Satoru.

He just had to prove how he was so much better than the Gojo heir in everything; from clothes, to cars, to what phone model he had for the moment, even the places he took you out to eat!

And naturally, Satoru wouldn’t even know what was going on, believing Naoya was simply doing whatever spoiled heirs did (never him, of course. Self-awareness is out the window) though he was curious to know what you thought of the matter, you appeared to be quite… overwhelmed by these sudden changes, surely, you’d be able to offer some insight behind all this.

Thus, after asking you to meet at a nearby café…

“You mean to say you don’t know why your husband is acting all…” Satoru scowls, failing to find the right word to describe his behavior, if there even was one…

“No, really, I don’t! I mean… sometimes he just likes to buy things! Sometimes for himself, sometimes for me, especially after a well-done mission or simply because we’ve been apart for far too long. I don’t like it when he does it impulsively, though, since I suspect he gets in trouble with his family over it…” You say. “Well, that’s a bit off topic—anyways, I don’t think he’s doing anything… differently. Why do you ask?”

“Come on, Y/N. You don’t actually believe that do you?? I’ve seen it in your eyes, you know that isn’t your typical obnoxious Naoya—”

“Don’t say that of him. And, well, I guess he’s been a bit off, but…”

“There! Now, let’s backtrack your steps, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Why does it matter so much to you? You’re the same too!” You frown.

Because he’s been far more attentive than he liked to let on; noticing that whenever he went all-out on his spending, he was around. With anyone else he was just… normal, he supposes. If that adjective could even be used on Naoya.

Or maybe because he didn’t want to take his actions as a reflection of his own. But since when did he even care what others thought of him? Might’ve been after one nasty comment from your sister…

“I’m actually more likeable but thank you for trying.” Satoru says, you roll your eyes. “Anyways, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Oh, if you really must know then I guess a few days ago?”

“And what happened then? You have to give me all the details Y/N! Don’t half-ass your story!”

“You’ll have to be nicer about it if you want me to tell you!”

“I’ll buy you any sweet you want—”

“I already have Naoya for that.”

“Then I’ll get you a copy of that game you’ve been looking for ages, deal?”

“Alright, alright.” You sigh, conceding. “…I mean, I don’t think there’s much else for me to tell you. We kind of just talk about anything that crosses our minds; make the most of our time together before he has to leave for work again, you know?”

“Ugh, that’s gross.”

“Satoru!”

“I mean—oh, poor you; anyhow, there must’ve been something you said that made him act this way! Come on, remember!”

“Well, we… we talked about wanting to go down to the city for dinner, before settling for the garden. We then laughed about something funny that happened to one of the servants, something that reminded me of that one thing I did when I was younger—with you, actually! You know which one, when I bet you a kiss—”

Oh.

OH.

And just like that, everything made sense.

“No, Satoru—I know that look, don’t even—!”

“Jealous?! Your husband’s acting like that because he’s jealous? Of me?!?” Gojo shrieked, undoubtedly having the time of his life with this revelation.

“No, he’s not! Stop it already, it’s not even funny…”

“I mean, surely you must know how he is.” He snickers. “He’s always been the competitive one, even when we were kids! I just never thought it would come to you—do you think he fears I’m going to steal you away? Or maybe—oh no, are you falling for me, Y/N??”

“What?! You need to lay off whatever it is you consume; it’s affecting your perception of reality!”

“How about it? Wanna see the limits his jealousy takes him to?” Satoru continues teasing. “Ah, he must be devastated that I took your sweet first time, do you think he has nightmares because of it? Wonders if he could ever compare to me?”

“No! Now, if you excuse me, there’s some misunderstandings I need to clear up.” You swiftly interrupt, standing up from your seat before making your way back home, back to an anxious Naoya who has been nothing but torturing himself with self-deprecating thoughts ever since you told him you were to meet Satoru. His biggest contender for your affections so it seems, the one putting his marriage in jeopardy…

But thankfully, you were there to ease all of these hurtful thoughts away, once and for all.

“Naoya… my dear, can we talk?”

“…What is it?” a pout on his face as he grumbles, side effects of his overwhelming jealousy.

“There’s a reason why you’ve done all that… compulsive spending, isn’t you?”

“No. I just do it because I want to.” He responds sternly, you sigh.

“I know why, Naoya. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” You reveal, making him tense for a quick moment before sighing too. “It was long ago, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Ugh, I know, and yet—I can’t help but feel resentful. Like I… I lost something.”

“Oh, Naoya… but that was just a silly thing I did as a child, you know?” you coo, soon wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to you. “Besides, you’ve taken something much more important from me.”

“What?”

“My heart—and that is something no one will ever win from you, not even Satoru.”

“…I truly acted like a child, haven’t I?” Naoya says, embarrassed.

“Well, I always thought you were cute when jealous, but… never to the extent of making you insecure. Less with someone as annoying as him! How could you possibly even think I liked him?” you giggle.

“I don’t know… He’s… not that bad, I guess.” He looks away, flustered.

“Yet, he’s not you, silly.” You say, standing on your tiptoes to give place a sweet kiss on the lips. His heart warms up for the first time since that day, slowly melting away all his uncertainties. “He’ll never be. Thank God! So… does this mean we can settle everything and leave all this behind?”

“Only if you show me how much better I am than Satoru…”

“Was that even disputable?” you ask, Naoya’s arms snaking around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“No, I just need a reminder—wouldn’t mind a demonstration for him too…” he teases, you frown.

“… Just one kiss, and that’s it. Nothing more. You know I don’t like it when other sees us like this.”

“Of course, you’re only mine, after all.”

Y/N to the rescue 🥺 But don't I seem to always write her reassuring him? Thankfully I do have something planned for that... a jealous Y/N that needs to be reminded of how much Naoya truly loves her :))))

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! I'm sure I've spoken about Naoya reacting to Y/N's first kiss and how it involved Satoru (unfortunately) but this time around I've decided to write a little something :> I hope you enjoyed it!

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #series side stories: first it hurts—

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lonelyparty · 1 year ago

Text

shifted

a fic in which geto suguru is your brother's best friend

wc: 2.3k

18+ // minors dni

cw: nsfw, toxic geto, toxic reader, toxic relationships, smut, very light nanago in the middle, degradation, choking, gagging, lots of tears and drool, creampie

If you had to describe your big brother’s childhood best friend in ten words or less you’d say the following: He’s a slick asshole, kinda insane, but hot as fuck. If Geto Suguru asked, though? You’d just list off all of the qualities that should negate the fact that whenever you look at his face you just want to sit on it, but in fact just makes it that much harder.

“Remember when we were younger and you insisted that the two of you were going to get married and have 10 kids?” your brother asked as the three of you reminisced about your childhood while sharing a blunt.

Geto turns to you, half lidded eyes red and smug, “Yes, remember that?”

“I was 5? At that age I was still believing in the easter bunny and laying traps for tooth fairies,” you roll your eyes.

“You were always such a freak,” Geto teases, smoke falling from his nose as he laughs.

Your eyes catch on to the small bite in his lip that he adds at the end. It almost has you wanting to screw him on the balcony of your shared apartment. You didn’t, of course, your brother was there.

“Only in your fantasies,” you snarl, snatching the blunt from his fingers and taking a hit of your own. You pass it over to your brother after a couple of more hits. He doesn’t seem to pay either of you any mind, staring up in space like the usual 5-blunt smoke out the three of you do once a week.

He bites the tip of his tongue, before shaking his head, “I don’t think so. You’re nasty, aren’t ya? Filthy even?”

The desire in your stomach pools. You’re reminded of your brother as he reaches over to hand off to Geto again. Geto’s eyes remain fixed on you as he inhales with a satisfied smirk. You’re calling upon the God you may or may not believe in to get the strength to not climb him like a tree.

You lean over into his personal space, taking the blunt that Geto offers to you. You lift your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. You inhale, ghosting the hit before leaning in.

Geto looks confused for a bit before your lips ghost his, blowing the smoke down his throat. He’s inhaling before he even knows what’s going on. His body stiffens, eyes moving to look at your brother who’s passed out in his bean bag. But you can see it still, the hunger. Something the both of you share. But you’ll be damned if you gave this prick what he wanted without a little work.

When he tries to press further, you lean back. A small smile forms on your face at his confused expression. You chuckle at his expense, and pout.

“Guess you’ll never know,” you replied innocently, using the ashtray to snub out the roach. You stand from your seat and wave, “Goodnight, Suguru.”

Geto can’t recall when the shift occurred. You were always a brat; the way of acting never changed. But his feelings about your behavior definitely took a turn. Behavior that once boiled Geto’s blood in anger is now pumping a different kind of feeling.

It only got worse on your 21st birthday, with Gojo as his catalyst.

Geto wouldn’t call himself a jealous man, but there was something about the way you spoke to him. All sweet with bright smiles. Coupled with the fact that neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves.

Okay, the previous statement was definitely a lie. He may or may not have ruined your chances with other people to ensure nothing… intimate was going on with you and whoever else. Making sure to always be around in your shared apartment with your brother. Giving dirty looks and smug comments. He’s just very fortunate that your brother travels for work in that aspect.

The difference is, Gojo is only here because of Geto. He extended an invitation for him to tag along at the club for your birthday, So, it’d be quite telling, even to your slightly inebriated brother, if Geto created a small rift in the middle of this club just to get that blue-eyed bastard to leave you the fuck alone. Though the strength continues to leave him the longer your hand lingers on Gojo’s slightly exposed pec.

When Gojo finally tears away from you to go bother the only person in the club that he actually knew, Geto’s eyes narrow slightly. And the closer he gets, the deeper the deeper his eyebrows furrow.

“What?” Gojo inquires innocently.

“What?” Geto mimics, mocking him. He tilts his head to the side, staring at Gojo’s lips. His eyes squint in the dim, strobe-lit nightclub they’re in. “Your lips?”

“I think it's Fenty,” Gojo answers, wiping off the excess gloss on his lips. He laughs at the look that must reflect in Geto’s eyes. “What? If you were trying to kiss as many people as you possibly can to beat a personal best, I’d offer the same to you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh that’s right…” Gojo looks over his glasses, expression smug, “She made sure to let me know that you didn’t know that.”

Geto doesn’t incite a reply. Instead, he makes his way through the crowd. His eyes find you immediately, making out with one of the girls from another party group. It kind of makes sense now, the birthday sash and tiara. The purple, cold-shoulder dress you wore. You dressed to have all eyes on you. To kiss everyone.

Everyone except him.

As he approaches, your eyes meet him through the light. He can see the hint of a smirk in your eyes as you continue to make out with your latest conquest. Geto thinks he saw the person you’re making out with at your apartment a few times. Probably a project partner of some sort.

“Thank you for being such a good sport, love,” you smile, hugging them.

“Yikes, ‘good sport’. You probably didn’t hear that growing up a lot, did you?” Geto questions, making a point to walk in between the both of you. He hums, “At least you know when you get hungry, you have leftover lemon pulp in your teeth.”

Your jaw drops as you watch your classmate leave. “Geto, what the fuck-”

“I think I’m owed a kiss?”

You scoff, immediately tuned in to the station he’s on. “So it’s true what they say when it comes to the both of you. What’s yours is also mine and some other bullshit?”

“This was never about Gojo.”

“No,” you answer, releasing a few buttons on his shirt. You lean forward, hand cupping his face. Eyes hidden behind lashes, you tilt your head, “But he’s another major turning point. Remind me, how long ago was it since you watched me?”

Everything that you do is calculated. From a young age, your family members would say that you had a way of getting what you want. Manipulation is the most common word for it. It’s your greatest asset.

And that is exactly why Geto is attracted to you. You know it. He knows it. Even your brother knows it. It could be said that there’s something wrong with the both of you since you’re the same person. The main difference is your tactics. And that’s why yours is so effective.

Geto may not be able to recall when the shift in your relationship occurred, but you can. Because you planted that seed a long time ago.

It was the day of the very last time you said you’d marry him, when he graduated high school and moved on to college with your big brother. There was no way an 18 year old would pay attention to a 13 year old, so you waited. Luck was on your side that the next time you saw him, it’d be two years later.

My little sister! The worst words to greet your future wife after not seeing them for 2 years. But you were 15, you understood.

Your plan really kick started after you turned 18. When you had time to perfect your craft during your teenage years. Watching Geto for so long, you were bound to know what he likes and dislikes. You grew up in each other’s faces, it was inevitable.

But the years of pent up rage from being referred to as a ‘little sister’ left you with a grudge that you couldn’t scratch. So you did what anyone else would, and started getting on his nerves even more. Punishing him with sharp words, carefully placed innuendos, and sensual touches.

All in the hopes of getting him to absolutely ravish you.

And just when you were going to give up on this idiot for truly thinking your brother gave a single fuck about what went on between the two of you… something amazing happened when Geto fucking Suguru watched you get fucked by a classmate through the crack of your bedroom door. The both of your eyes fixed on each other, and a significant change in your enthusiasm as he watched you get fucked by another man and you knew.

You had him where you wanted him.

Geto’s eyes move from your face to your brother’s figure at the other end of the club. He looks to be ready to head out soon, wrapped around his long time girlfriend. He tracks down Gojo and isn’t shocked to see that he managed to drag Nanami here as well. The younger male looks apologetic to everyone as he practically drags Gojo out of the club. There’s something in the way that Gojo looks that reminds Geto to make fun of his useless pining because the blond is as smitten with Gojo as Gojo is with him.

Realistically, he knew that because of this, Gojo was never a threat. None of them are, if he’s being honest. Geto knows and he knows that you do, too. The rules of the crazy game the two of you created in your minds would have a good majority of people ready to just call it quits. But Geto will be damned if he had to endure another three fucking years of this torture.

So, instead of playing along, he instead grabs you by the throat. Your smirk is gone when his fingers force their way into your mount, thumb and forefinger holding your tongue to effectively shut you up.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Geto says casually. His eyes move to the crowd as he leans forward, “I am going to offer to get us an Uber to my place. Use a lame excuse of giving those two their privacy at your apartment. In the meantime, you will behave yourself. If I so much as see you breathe at someone else in any other way that isn’t friendly, I won’t feel inclined to be nice.”

He makes sure to emphasize his points with a firmer grip on your neck with every important word spoken. Your would be moans trapped in your throat where in his grip, words and shear attitude has you speechless for the first time in a long time.

“It's my turn now, baby girl.”

When you retell the story of your 21st birthday and someone asks what happened after you left the club, there will be a 30 minute gap between your departure from the club and the current position Geto has you in. And it’s not because your night is forgetful, but only because you’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s given you.

The second the both of you walked into his apartment, he ripped off your birthday girl sash, tossed your tiara to the counter and literally tore you out of your dress in anticipation. By the time you reached your third orgasm in his fucking hallway by his fingers alone, you knew this was everything you had hoped for.

And Geto wasn’t done, no. He was far from it.

Because when he finally got you into the bedroom, the intensity increased again. Your jaw hurts from how roughly he fucked his dick down your throat. Your make up effectively ruined. The only thing that remains untouched by those sinfully thick fingers being your hair and that’s only because you behaved yourself so well in the club.

And when he finally fucked into you for the first time? Well, it felt like everything fell into place perfectly. He is rough. Fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you up, down, backwards and sideways.

“Shit!” you gasp as you come undone once again, gushing around Geto’s cock again because there’s nothing that he can’t fucking do. He remains rock hard in your depths, slowly down to a stop to give you time to catch your breath again. “Oh my god-”

He tsks, “I thought I told you to: Shut. Up.”

One of his hands leave your waist to your mouth, where he shoves his fingers into your mouth like he did earlier. Except, this time, he’s taking satisfaction in the way you choke around his fingers.

“Much better,” he hums, pistoning his hips once again.

You moan around his fingers, drool now mixing with the tears on his pillow. The sound your pussy makes is obscene. Never have you ever been so wet for… anyone to be honest. And as his thick cock continues to fuck into your g-spot like his life depends on it, you come to realize that this is the best birthday ever.

“Let’s go for one more, yea?” Geto questions when he feels your walls clamp around his cock once again. He knows you can’t respond with three fingers down your throat effectively shutting you up. But he continues, “Show me how nasty this pussy gets.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach twisting and turning yet again. In the back of your mind, you register just how sloppy Geto is getting. He’s close, too.

When his fingers exit your mouth to play with your swollen clit while the other moves to your breast, forefinger and thumb rolling your nipple hard, you lose your mind. The floodgates open, and, for the fourth time tonight, you squirt. And this time, Geto cums alongside you, fucking his seed into your depths with a grunt.

a/n: abrupt ending bc i deadass couldnt be bothered, but be on the look out for a pt 2 🙈🙈

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hugshughes · 11 months ago

Text

Patience is a Virtue C. Loveland

Colston Loveland x fem!Minter!reader

synopsis - Colston gets the trophy, and finally gets the girl.

wc - 3.8k

contains - UNEDITED! this is based off of this request! READER IS COACH MINTER(michigan defensive coordinator)'S DAUGHTER!!!!!!! kissing, hugging, fluff, cursing, stress over the game. guys if u don't like my cute outfit i picked then #1 ur a hater and #2 it's not a big deal! think of something else🤞🤞🤞 cause my Adidas navy handballs with gold accents ARE STAYING. there IS a picture of the outfit im describing but im obvi not gonna stick it in the middle of the fic so if anyone wants that i guess request or message me lols?

an - GUYS PLEASE LET THIS POST LETS PRAY TOGETHER. THIS WAS CUTE. i've been getting the BEST requests lately. i'm on my Michigan FOOTBALL grind. ive spent a long while introducing the jesse minter daughter reader.... she might have to stick around. i want to write for Blake Corum but don't know what to do because literally all i have written for the past week is like "girlfriend or friend of player reader comes to watch their playoff game, reader and love interest kiss after love interest wins game" so... DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVEEEE WRITING THAT SHIT. but it feels so repetitive. BUT THIS? I LOVED THIS. daughter of the coach is so scandalous and i love it. minter is only 40 so like we're just saying he had his daughter (reader) pretty young, like 21. hope u enjoyyyyyyyy ;)!

You woke up with a start. Your body jolted as you brain registered a shout somewhere in the room. You sucked in a breath, opening your eyes, only to close them again. You squinted, trying to orient yourself. You were in a hotel room, your brothers were the ones shouting.

You groaned at the realization, then let out a shout when you felt three small bodies land on top of you.

"Holy shit, get off of me!"

They immediately scrambled, most likely going to tell your mom you cursed in their presence. You loved your 3 baby siblings, but they were pains in your ass sometimes.

You heard a faint "she said shit mommy!" in the conjoining hotel room, and rolled your eyes. You sat in bed, stretching, grabbing your phone before grabbing your bag and locking yourself in the bathroom before your mom could scold you so your siblings shut up about it.

Today was the college football playoff championship, and it was safe to say your family members above the age of 8 were stressed. It was 8:11, and you had to be out the door by 9:50. You showered, drying your hair after and then starting to pick your outfit. You brought a lot of different gear, you had not clue what you wanted to wear to the game. You had so much Michigan gear, and even more maize and navy colored clothing, courtesy to your father.

After almost 30 minutes, you decided on a cute denim skirt, a maize long sleeve, and your navy Adidaas Handballs. You perfected your hair and makeup, successfully erasing any signs that you'd only been awake for about an hour.

You came out of the bathroom all put together, your bag and pajamas in hand. Your siblings were sitting on your bed, watching something on the TV. Since you guys had 6 people in your family, you'd gotten two hotel rooms with the connecting door in the middle. You slept in one room with your little sister on the other bed, and your parents and brothers slept in the other room. You walked through the connecting door, checking the time. 9:17.

Your mom was getting ready in the bathroom when you walked into it. You sat on the closed lid toilet and started talking to her about the plans for today.

"You really gotta stop cursing in front of the littles!"

Your mother scolded you, a grin wide on her face. She was joking, of course. You and your parents had always been close, you'd been their baby for the longest. You'd been with them since they were two just married 20 year olds in college. Not that you remembered it, but you were there for all of your dad's junior and senior year games when he played at MSJ. You'd been there through all the coaching jobs. From Cincinnati, to Georgia State, to the Baltimore Ravens, you'd been there through all of it.

You sat with your mom until it was time to go. Your dad corralled everyone together, taking a photo before you all headed to the elevator. When an elevator came, it opened up and there was barely any room unless your parents held two of your siblings, so you told them to go ahead and that you would wait for the next one.

You only waited about a minute before the doors slid open again, revealing none other than Colston Loveland. His eyes lit up, a grin shining on his beautiful face. You'd always had a weird little thing with Colston. No words were ever said about it, but there had always been a vibe between you.

Being the daughter of the defensive coordinator definitely drove a lot of the guys, even ones you had classes and other school related things with, far far away. The boys knew how protective their coach was of his family, and didn't want any bad blood on the team. Something about you just attracted Colston so heavily. He knew he shouldn't even think about it, but he never could help himself.

"Hey coach."

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you stepped into the elevator. He always called you coach, he had to remind you he was one of your dad's players. You would've loved to forget that for two seconds.

"Hi Cole."

He could've died. You'd called him Cole, instead of Colston. It was the smallest, most insignificant little thing, but it made him melt.

"Where's your family at?"

You tilted your head towards him, he wanted to talk, okay. You smiled at him, he loved it.

"The other elevator was too full, some of the guys were on the way down too."

He nodded, the smirk never leaving his face. You thought about kissing it off of him, then realized you had just thought of kissing his smirk off of him. Shit. You were in deep with this kid, and there was little to no chance anything would ever happen.

The elevator reached the lobby, and Colston gestured for you to step out first. You exited the elevator, the boy hot on your tail. You were immediately greeted by a hallway packed full of Michigan players, coaches, families, and more.

You have Colston one last glance and smile before finding your mom, taking your baby brother out of her arms and into yours, playing with him. Colston's eyes followed you, he admired you as you smiled and laughed with your brother. You were perfect. He was gonna have to find a way to get around the fact that you were his coach's daughter.

You held your brother with one arm and your sisters hand with the other as you smiled at the cameras, walking through to the buses. Your family followed behind the rest of the coaches and families, the team trailing behind you.

The ride to NRG took longer than you assumed it would, almost an hour because of the traffic, and it didn't help that everyone could tell that the buses were transporting one of the CFP Championship teams in them.

Everyone went into the stadium together, through some backstage type area. You walked with the team until you had to go separate ways. You hugged your dad, squeezing him tight. You would see him again before the game, so you saved your 'Good luck, I love you Dad.' sentiment for then.

You'd always had a special connection with your dad, you were closer to him than almost anyone else. You were his baby, his first baby. Still, you were his baby in his eyes. Your dad would do anything for you, and he was quite protective. Though he was protective, all he wanted was for you to be happy, and if it meant dating one of his guys, he would have no problem with it.

Your family sat bored in the box of the stadium, looking down on the field as Washington practiced. There was over 6 more hours till the game started, and there was practically nothing to do.

You took a nap on the carpeted floor of the box with your siblings for a couple hours, your mother snapping photos that although you were embarrassed of, were undeniably cute. Once you guys had woken up, there was about 2 hours till game time. You voted with your family on whether you guys wanted to stay in the box, or sit way close to the field. You all wanted to be closer to the field, you wanted to see the action head on.

Your family departed the box, along with a few others to see the team one more time before the game. You got down onto the field in about 20 minutes, and stood with your dad for awhile. When you were being told it was time to go, you quickly hugged your dad.

"Good luck, I love you!"

He thanked you, saying the three words back as you guys waved at him, going to leave. Your eyes caught on a certain brunette as he ran off the field, his eyes finding you quickly. He smiled at you, ugh, that smile.

"Good luck, Cole!"

You smiled at him, right before you turned to go up the tunnel. More and more fans started to pour in as you got settled into your bleacher seats. You were three rows from the bottom with a perfect view of the field. You settled in as the national anthem ended and the game began.

As the game progressed, you were so happy to say that Michigan was winning, the entire time. You'd caught Colston's eyes multiple times during the game, letting it linger for a few seconds before giving him a stern look and gesturing towards the field. He'd mouth back, 'okay, coach.' and turn back around. Your mother caught the interaction once, her heart warming seeing her baby with a crush.

You stood up, your brother in your arms as you jumped up and down, shouting, Michigan had finally won! You cheered and danced around with your little siblings as you celebrated. You were all so insanely proud of your dad. Soon though, you were being escorted to the field, eager to see your father and congratulate him.

Blood was pumping and hearts were racing as you exited the tunnel, smiles burned onto your faces as you went to look for your dad. You held your sister's hand as you two ran around, trying to find him. Your mom shouted, and you turned to look at her. She pointed to your left, and there stood your dad, hugging one of his players. Your sister went back to your mom, to walk over to your dad with her as you all but sprinted over to your dad, weaving in between sweaty boys and families.

Your dad saw you incoming and held his arms out accepting your forceful hug. You both laughed, your dad squeezing you tightly. Your best friend had finally done it.

"Literally told you you would do it."

He laughed again, agreeing as he laid a kiss to your temple, pulling back with one arm to accept your other siblings into the hug, who'd finally made their way over. After a minute, you took your siblings from your dad so your mom could hug him, and kiss him, much to your brothers' disgust.

After talking with your dad for a little, you spotted a familiar 6'5 frame standing by himself as his teammates walked away from him. You sauntered over, shouting his name when you were in earshot. The brunette quickly turned around, the smile already gracing his face deepening.

"Well hi, coach."

"Congratulations, Cole. You know your catches were pretty legit."

You gave him a slightly impressed face, shrugging your shoulders. He laughed, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You can't win 'em all over, can you?"

You laughed in turn, stepping closer to him. Colston's heart was racing as he looked down into your eyes.

"But really, Cole, you were incredible, serious."

He nodded, accepting your praise with a grin, before he looked around, over-exaggerating a look of being in thought.

"You know, coach, I think I might just deserve a reward, for my quote incredible performance."

Your eyes widened, your heart starting off, faster and faster.

"Really? What might that entail, Cole?"

Shit, he was gonna have to kiss you if you kept calling him that. He was about to take the leap. He knew he had to at some point, and he was on an adrenaline rush, that just chanted at him to do it.

"Well I think it entails you accepting a date with me back in Michigan."

Your jaw dropped slightly, you were dumbfounded. Colston really wanted to go on a date with you?

"For real?"

Colston nodded, seemingly confident, though he was shaking in his boots on the inside.

"Well then, I think we can make that work."

Colston's heart erupted. He literally could not have been happier. He'd just won the Natty, and got his dream girl to agree to a date, holy fuck. You got nervous all of the sudden, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before turning to leave.

"Just text me, Cole!"

He nodded, his eyes following you as you went to go find your family again. His family came back over to him, they'd been gone for just a second but stopped and waited when they saw him talking to you. His family, especially his mom, knew quite a bit about you.

You found your family, immediately grabbing your moms hand to pull her a few steps away. You looked at her with the biggest eyes ever, still in shock over what had just happened.

"What's up, sweetheart? Why are you all, thousand yard stare-y?"

"Mom Colston just asked me out, and I said yes! And then I kissed his cheek! And then I left!"

Your mom laughed, her baby was finally growing up. You'd had a few boyfriends in all your days, but you'd never been proper crushing like you were right now.

"That's so good! I knew this was coming, we just had to wait for one of you to get the courage."

You blushed, hiding your face in your hands. Your smile suddenly dropped, a realization coming to you.

"Is dad gonna hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

Shit.

You ended up telling your dad later on in the night, when you were tired and sitting in the back of a restaurant the team was celebrating in. Your family didn't party for too long, having a 4, 7, and 8 year old didn't exactly allow you guys to stay out for too long. Even your parents 19 year old daughter got a bit cranky if she stayed out too late.

When you told your dad, he just laughed. He knew you and Colston had things for each other, he was waiting for the tight end to make a move.

You were stressing. Tonight was your date with Colston. You sat at your vanity, ranting to your roommate over it. You put on makeup and did your hair, wanting to look cute but not over the top.

Colston had told you to wear comfy clothes, so you were in one of your most common outfits. Leggings and a Michigan sweatshirt. You stared at yourself in the mirror, doubting yourself. You had known Colston for over a year, almost two, but you didn't really know him that well. You wanted him to like you so badly.

"Babe, you look fantastic. He's going to stare at you all night."

You sighed at your roommate's encouragement. But before you could respond, you got a text from Colston. He was outside your dorm building. Your roommate pushed you straight out the door, saying bye.

You went down the stairs quickly, making your way out of the complex. You saw Colston as you opened the door, slipping out. He looked up and smiled at you, his stupid beautiful smile.

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You felt the heat on your face even in the Ann Arbor cold. You smiled, shaking your head as you gave him a spin, showing off your extra casual outfit.

"Even in this ensemble?"

He nodded, his smile deepening. He pulled you into his side, hugging you. You were immediately enveloped in his warmth. You ducked your head down to hide the shock in your eyes. He smelled really good.

When you pulled away Colston led you to his car, opening the door for you before going around and getting in. You two buckled up before Colston pulled out of the parking spot, setting off into Ann Arbor. He gave you the aux, warming your heart. You both knew he probably didn't listen to the same music as you, but he wanted you to listen to whatever you liked.

Smaller Acts by Zach Bryan came on when you hit shuffle on your main playlist, making you smile. You resonated with the song, always having thought that smaller acts of love were more important than any grand gestures. You got to really look at Colston while he drove. He kept his eyes right on the road always, until you got to a red light, that's when you'd jerk your head back forward as he turned to look at you. He was really pretty, his jaw was so insanely defined, he had a strong neck, and the deepest brown eyes. You stared at the tattoo on his left forearm, he was hot, to put it simply.

You drove for around 40 minutes before the car slowed, pulling onto a gravel driveway. You looked out of your window, seeing a large screen and projector, and lots of cars. He had brought you to a drive in movie. You could've cried when you saw the sign reading the movie you would be seeing. Ocean's 11. The very first time you ever talked to Colston, he'd asked you your favorite movie. You said you couldn't pick one, then settled on Ocean's 11 because it was one you'd seen so many times you could quote any scene.

You couldn't believe he remembered. You'd never mentioned it since then. That was the kind of smaller, seemingly insignificant thing that meant the world to you. You jerked your head to the left, staring at Colston with wide eyes. He was dealing with the tickets for a few seconds before you pulled into a spot, then he finally looked to you.

"Cole, I cannot believe that you remembered."

Colston smiled, and on the inside he was celebrating that you loved it. What he hadn't expected though was you leaning over the console and hugging him. It was honestly the sweetest thing any guy had ever done for you, you were beyond grateful for this boy, and it was your first date.

"This is the sweetest thing a guy's ever done for me, I'm being serious."

Though you were mostly saying that about the fact that he'd remembered, the date itself was also amazing. Colston knew you enough to know that you'd have preferred this over any fancy restaurant, and that meant a lot.

"It's the least I could do, coach. You mean something to me, 'm gonna take care of you."

You just squirmed in your seat, getting more comfortable and smiling as you looked ahead of you. You wordlessly reached over and slipped your hand into his, pulling them into your lap.

Colston was so happy he could've gotten out of the car and started dancing. He acted as cool as he could on the outside. You two settled in as the movie began.

At some point, Colston had reached back into the backseat and grabbed a blanket that he tossed into your lap, and a bag of food and snacks.

You traced your free hand over Colston's tattoo, admiring the line work and shading. The movie ended, and Colston's hand stayed with you as you two began the drive back. You fell asleep on the drive, your head leaning against Colston's arm.

You woke up slowly about 5 minutes out from school. You kept your head on Colston's arm, but allowed yourself to carelessly stare at him in your tired state. At a stoplight, he turned to look at you, smiling deeply when his eyes met your sleepy ones.

"Hey, coach. Nap good?"

You smiled and nodded, yawning at him. He laughed lowly, turning his head back when the light went green. You parked outside your building, dampening your heart. The night had been perfect. You sleepily got out of Colston's car, after he told you to not dare opening your own door. He walked you up to the entrance with his hand on your back, rubbing his fingers back and forth lightly.

When you got to the door you stopped and turned around, wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Thank you so much Colston. This was like, the best date I think ever."

He smiled, hugging you tightly. Colston had the best time, obviously you were gorgeous, but getting to talk to you one-on-one without interruptions was his idea of a good time. His insides melted whenever you fell asleep, and before then, he could've swore he was in love while you traced over his tattoo.

You pulled away from him, looking at the boy through heavy eyes. He looked absolutely handsome in the dim lighting of a street lamp. You put your hands on his shoulders, leaning up and kissing him. You probably wouldn't have if your drowzy mind hadn't commanded you to. Obviously you wanted to, but you weren't sure if it was 100% mutual yet, but it was.

Colston's hands went to hold the back of your head, his hands in your hair. He kept the kiss shorter than you would've liked, knowing you were tired.

You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, a smiling fighting its way onto you face. Colston's hands shifted from your hair to your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow baby."

Your blown out eyes widened at the name, your heart clenching in your chest. Colston saw the reaction, his lips quirking up the slightest bit.

"I'll see you, Loveland."

You let go of him, turning towards the door. You paused for a second, quickly turning back around and kissing Colston again. Colston's hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you closer. Colston smiled brightly into the kiss, giggling to himself.

You pulled away from him, a grin falling to your face.

"You ever gonna let me leave, coach?"

"Thinkin' about it."

"You get inside, gorgeous. It's too cold for you to be out here."

You smiled, nodding at him, letting go of him for the last time.

"You gotta go too, off season just started. You gotta stay on your A-Game Loveland."

He laughed at you, shaking his head as he watched you walk into the dorm complex, turning the corner and out of his sight. You ran back up the stairs and to your room, squealing like a 13 year old as you described your date to your roommate.

Colston sat in his car, texting his mom that everything went well. When he put his phone away, he finally let himself think that you were the girl he'd want to be with forever. It was finally real. The boy just had to be patient.

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hwaslayer · 4 months ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | intro.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 2.0k

—warnings: nothing much; cussing, very general description of research topics/neuroscience experiments including mentions of mice research (no details)!, mentions of infidelity (not oc or san)

—a/n: ty for being patient with me <33 here's the lil intro to professor choi 🤪 i think i'll keep the same update schedule i've had (every other weekend) but ofc will let everyone know if i cant update for whatever reason!! enjoyyyy this rideeee 🖤

Clunk.

San throws his glasses onto his desk before leaning back in his chair, hands coming up behind his head for a stretch. He had been working on his progress report for one of his grants since this morning, and he was starting to feel the migraine come on.

"Fuck." He mutters, pinching at the bridge of his nose before he gets up to grab another cup of coffee from his Nespresso machine— popping in a pod with a level 9 intensity into the slot and pressing start. It's around dinner time, but quite frankly, San isn't too hungry. He'll eat something small. He's just tired, especially because of this progress report. But, it's due next week and he needs to finalize his class schedule for the upcoming quarter at the same time. He won't have as much time to get through the technicalities if he waits any longer.

He's pretty immune to the different intensities of coffee at this point; having eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner during his postdoc years. It won't do much for long, but it'll at least keep him going for the next couple of hours before he calls it a day and lays in bed.

When his coffee is done, he pours some creamer into his mug and gives it a good stir before settling back into his office. His house is too big for one person, but he enjoys the stillness. The quiet. He used to hate it. He used to hate when every corner reminded him of his ex-wife. Now, he's gotten used to it. He's learned how to live alone, how to enjoy his peace. He lets out a small sigh, taking a sip of his hot coffee as he resumes to look at the computer screen to his side. Suddenly, his phone goes off and he's quick to shift his attention to it because it's slightly odd for this time of day. People don't normally call him unless he's settled on a phone call meeting ahead of time, and he doesn't remember booking any calls tonight.

"Hey." San picks up when he realizes it's Jongho. Okay, so he maybe he lied. He does take a few calls from close friends, most who are also professors at the same university. "What's up?"

"How's your T15 report going?"

"Long. It's terrible."

"Well." Jongho laughs. "Perks of being you, I guess." San rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks. Very enlightening."

"Anyways, I wanted to call really quickly. I figured you hadn't seen it yet, but wanted to put it on your radar. I looped you into an email for a possible collaboration. We're trying to meet this week if you're free. Might be good to see what it's worth, could get us more funding. Open more collaboration opportunities in the future." San presses the phone against his ear, holding it with his shoulder as he navigates to his inbox on his computer. He has a bunch of unread emails that he'll eventually respond to, paying a tad more attention to the pressing ones when he has a moment. He's not gonna lie, he does ignore a few if it's not of interest to him, or something he doesn't feel like he can contribute much to. He'll typically respond with a 'so sorry, no can do' if people get pushy and constantly follow up, but for the most part, he does his best to keep up and respond where it's warranted.

San sees the email Jongho is speaking of, but right underneath it, he sees another email from a student inquiring about rotating in his lab for the upcoming quarter. He's always interested when students reach out to rotate in his lab, but he can't accommodate all, especially when he doesn't feel like his research aligns with their goals. He usually takes 1 per quarter if it fits, otherwise, he doesn't have any at all.

Out of curiosity, he clicks on the email since it has been awhile since anyone rotated in his lab.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Dear Professor Choi, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Y/N, and I'm currently a bioengineering grad student who is interested in rotating in your lab for the upcoming quarter. I have been thinking about diving deeper into computational analysis, mice behavior, 2-photon excitation and opto-stim work. I've spoken to your postdocs, Sunwoo and Belle, about their current projects and potentially collaborating since they seem to be touching up on all these aspects. I was hoping we can find a time to meet and chat a bit to see if it would be a good fit. The deadline to submit my rotation selections is coming up, so I'd like to make sure we meet beforehand. Let me know, happy to work with your schedule! Best, Y/N Y/L/N

The thing about San is that he's pretty good at picking up on a student's vibe through their emails. It's the tone, the professionalism, the way they write and carry themselves. He can tell when some people are a little more egotistical and ignorant, and he doesn't want people like that in his rather small, but mighty lab. His current grad students and postdocs all get along well, and they're bright people who are very passionate about their work and studies. He doesn't need people thinking they're above the others. In addition to that, he can also tell when students are just trying to get their name on a published paper doing work in his lab, or when they're just trying to wing their way through grad school. It's a shame, but he definitely has come across a few students in his inbox. They do exist.

You, though? He's intrigued. You seem bright. Genuinely passionate about the specific areas you're interested in diving into. Poised. He appreciates that. He quickly scans over your CV and the little blurb at the bottom that highlights the work you've done in your undergrad years and internships. Your work history. He sees that you've already dipped your toes in a few of the different areas you've mentioned. Worked with a few professors he knows. You've volunteered at a couple of places.

An all-rounder.

"Did you see it?" He almost forgets he's on the phone with Jongho.

"Mm, yeah. I'll respond in a bit, I think I can meet on Thursday. Sorry, I just got a little distracted. Saw another email about a potential rotation student."

"Gonna take one on this quarter?"

"Maybe. If it fits. She seems to be interested in a lot of the work we do. She knows Sunwoo and Belle."

"Oh, nice. That'll be cool."

"What about you? Taking on a rotation student?" Jongho is an assistant professor in the electrical engineering department, and he is often bombarded with inquiries himself. He usually always has a rotation student, and they almost always choose his lab to work in after their rotation program is up. San doesn't blame them— Jongho is brilliant, and his work creates a lot of different pathways for students to navigate and try. San's can be a hit or miss; it's quite niched, and students often find that it genuinely is tough to play around in his field.

"Yeah. Think so."

"Alright. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I'll check my calendar and respond in a bit for sure." San eyes the email. "It does sound like a good collaboration."

"Figured you'd say that. Thanks, my guy! Take it easy and good luck on your progress report."

"Appreciate it." San gives off a toothless smile even though Jongho can't see him. He slides his phone off to the side and checks his calendar, upholding his promise to Jongho about responding to the email ASAP. He keeps his email short, letting the group know he can make the meeting at the desired time on Thursday to talk about the potential collaboration across labs.

Then, he pulls up your email and checks his calendar once more.

From: [email protected] To: y/[email protected] Hi Y/N, Thanks for your email - for sure! I think there's a lot of possibilities we could visit, especially with Belle and/or Sunwoo's projects. Can you pop into my office on Tuesday morning? 10am good? We can chat then. — San

"Oh shit." You slow your chewing when you see the email notification pop up on your screen during dinner.

"What?" Felix asks, turning his attention towards you and causing Jiung and Eunchae to do the same.

"Professor Choi answered my email."

"That was quick." Jiung takes forkful of food into his mouth.

"Professor Choi as in San or Jongho? Cause they're both hotties." Eunchae swoons and twirls her hair, making Felix scrunch his nose.

"San."

"I'd kill to be a rotation student in their labs." Eunchae giggles. "What'd he say?"

"To meet him at his office on Tuesday to chat more."

"Well, that's good! Which other labs were you looking at?"

"I'm not sure. Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho. Kim Namjoon—"

"Isn't Professor Choi's ex-wife with Professor Jeong now?" Jiung looks up with a squint.

"Yeah, apparently when it all went down, it was a mess." Felix chimes in, and you continue to type away at your phone. "Imagine your wife having an affair with your bestfriend."

"Harsh." Jiung does a head tilt.

"I guess they don't interact much anymore, do they? Seems to be water under the bridge."

"I don't think so, but Professor Lee works in the Chemical Engineering department so they might have to from time to time if students in her lab wanna be co-advised or collaborate with him. Professor Jeong, though."

"Awkward. At least they can keep it civil." Felix shrugs at Eunchae's response.

"They lowkey have no choice." Felix looks up in thought before shrugging. "Still sucks to know your bestfriend was involved."

"Seriously." You add.

"Either way, those are good labs to possibly rotate in. It'd be cool if you could get into Namjoon's lab. Heard he's cool as fuck even though he's the department chair." Felix tosses his napkin into his empty paper bowl.

"Yeah, same. I'll keep you guys updated." You send off your response to Professor Choi with a small sigh. "There. Hopefully my rotation will be settled for the quarter."

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Hi Professor Choi, Yes, I can meet you at 10am on Tuesday. Thank you, and see you then! Best, Y/N

"Maybe you'll get more out of the rotation, especially with Professor Choi." Eunchae nudges your side and you let out a small yelp before you playfully pinch her bicep.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jiung snorts.

"I'm just saying, he's successful. A hottie. Young. Single—"

"Here she goes." Felix lets out a breath.

"Bro. Calm down." Jiung laughs. "He's still a professor."

"What if you two get close during rotation and he falls in love with you?" She looks at you ever so seriously.

"Relax." Felix laughs. "What kinda movie did we fall into?"

"Eunchae, please." You poke her cheek. "You know we rarely ever see the professors in lab. We get like.. five minute meetings with them and that's about as much of a personal interaction we'll get. They're busy people. Sorry to burst your bubble, bae." She shrugs.

"It was fun to think about." She giggles. "But no, that'll be a good experience for you if you get to join his lab for rotation. The others are great, too. Is he your first choice for a dissertation advisor, though?"

"As of now, yeah. But, we'll see how it all goes."

"Keep us updated." Jiung sips some water. "I think I need to reach out to one more professor for this quarter. Needa figure out my shit before classes start."

"Same."

Meanwhile, San sees the notification from your email pop up in the corner of his screen and he immediately presses on it. He smiles a bit when he realizes how easy scheduling that meeting was— most of the time, people say they'll work with his schedule but end up pushing back. He slots you into his calendar before he can forget and switches his attention back to the progress report he's close to finishing up.

San thinks it'll be nice to host a rotation student again, as the experience has always been useful, eventful, productive. He thinks it'll be like any other time; the experience being useful, eventful. Productive. He trusts in his group, the students, to come up with great ideas and be able to execute from start to finish.

So, he doesn't think much of it. He thinks he can hand you off and trust you with Belle and Sunwoo.

Little does he know that's where he gets it all wrong.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @lynnsqueendom

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reidispunk · 1 year ago

Text

YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU, RIGHT?

Simon Riley x fem!reader

★⇢ summary; You lost him. But what if you two are destined to meet again? And your paths lead you straight back to each other?

★⇢ warnings; angst?, mentions of death, slight fluff i guess?, / soft!simon, happy ending.

★⇢ a/n; I hope you enjoy this fic! I really liked writing this and if you like it maybe i could do a second part? :)

★⇢ word count; 2,4k

You had known Simon since childhood. He and you met in a park when you were little, you had hurt your knee and he noticed, walked up to you and helped you back to your mother. Your mother adored Simon, she took him in like her own and it was the same with Simons mum. She had loved you so dearly and after she was killed, you were destroyed from the inside. They blamed Simon for his mother death, and the second you found out about it you knew it couldn’t be true.

Simon adored his mother and you knew he wouldn’t do anything like that. So after the incident you made it your mission to find him again. They all said he was dead, they said he wasn’t going to come back. You didn’t believe that.

You had enlisted for the army not long after Simons mothers passing. You couldn’t stay home and wallow in Manchester forever so you decided to join the military to help people and maybe with a lot of good luck, find Simon Riley again.

Its been many years since that and you’re still here but now you’re higher rank, one of the most respected women in the bases and if you can say so yourself, a hell of a sniper.

You like working alone, no distractions or awkward conversations and no unnecessary attachments. But now you’re being transferred to Task Force 141, a special operations unit. You have heard about them yes and even though you tried to resist— Kate Laswell said the Captain desperately wanted you on his team.

You gave in and said yes to the offer, so now you’re on your way to their base. You feel nervous, you haven’t worked with a full team for ages and you’re pretty sure your people skills aren’t very good. But you knew that the 141 is a big deal so why not? New opportunities you think.

You’re getting out of the heli and you see a man with a bucket hat jogging towards you and waving. You guess this is the infamous Captain Price and move towards him.

“Sergeant! Happy to have you here. Captain Price” He welcomes you and offers you a hand to shake. You shake his hand and answer “Captain, thank you for having me.” You smile to him and he nods.

“You must want to meet the team yeah? Walk with me.” He says and you start walking towards the base. You walk beside him and listen when he asks something, “so sergeant I hear they call you Dove, is that right?” He asks your callsign and you nod.

“Yeah Dove is good” you answer and he nods at you. You’re having a conversation with the Captain while walking and now you’re here, standing in front of the door conference room.

“Ready Dove?” Price asks you and you exhale. “Yes, lets get this over with.” You answer and he goes first and keeps the door open for you and you nod as a thank you.

“Alright men, this is our new sergeant. Play nice and introduce yourselves please” the Captain says and you look at the first man standing in front of you. “They call me Soap, nice to meet you lass” the mohawk haired man says in a very Scottish accent.

You nod “nice to meet you Soap, they call me Dove” you say repeating his words and he flashes a grin. “Dove eh? What for?” He asks and you smile slightly. “You’ll find out” you raise your eyebrows playfully and he chuckles and moves so the other men can introduce themselves.

The next man is— You don’t know how to describe him. He has a slight boyish charm to him “hey love, I’m Gaz nice to have you on board” he says and smiles at you.

You like him already, he has a good vibe attached to him. “Pleased to meet you Gaz, I’m Dove” you tell him and flash him a small smile.

Then at last but definitely not least a skull masked man comes to your view. Man he is BIG, you think. All you can see from his face is his eyes and they slightly look familiar but you can’t place why they do.

“Ghost” is all he says and you nod at him, not everyone is social and you can respect that. “Dove” you say and you see a weird emotion flicker in his eyes, he only nods and thankfully Price interrupts your weird eye contact.

“So now that we all are introduced you’re dismissed. Dove lets go to my office yeah?” Price says and you finally peer your eyes away from the skull faced man. You nod and step around Ghost to follow Price. Maybe he’ll show you their files finally you think. You had been refused when you had asked for the team’s files before and you’ve been itching to find out who your new teammates are.

“Here we are” the Captain says and you step inside of his office behind him. “So I’ve heard you had been asking the files of our team yes?” He asks you while setting himself down on his chair and you walk to the chair opposite of him.

“Yeah I just wanted to know who I was going to be working with you know.” You say to him while sitting down on the chair and he nods at you and he smiles.

“Well this is your lucky day sergeant. Of course they have seen your file too except the Lieutenant because he hasn’t had any time yet but he will eventually” Price explains and then he opens a drawer on his desk and pulls out a stack of files.

“Here you are, take your time and read through them. I will do some paper work in the mean time.” He hands you the stack and you open the first one and its Gaz— Or Kyle Garrick.

You read through his file and move on to the next one. Its the Captain’s file, John Price huh? It makes sense, his name fits him you think. The next file is Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavishes file and you furrow your brows, John and Johnny? Huh. You smile at the coincidence and go through his file quickly, because you know who’s file the last one is and you’re curious about him.

You place the last file on top and the first thing you notice is that there’s no picture? You brush it off and open the file.

You freeze.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

It can’t be him. No no— You can’t believe this. Yes one of the reasons you joined the military was Simon and his sudden disappearance but you had lost hope many years ago— You had shed tears for him and for what? Him to be alive?—

You look to his birthday and you know its him. Bury the feelings, bury the feelings, shove them as down as possible! Whatever— maybe he doesn’t recognize you. Its been years since you last saw each other, you were young then and now you’re older, and definitely not the same person you were 10 years ago and you bet he isn’t either.

“Sergeant? Are you okay?” You hear the Captain ask and you lift your head to look at him and nod. “Yeah I’m almost finished” you answer and he just nods and goes back to his work.

You keep reading Ghosts— Simon’s? File and your eyes widen. He went through hell and you almost can’t believe what you’re reading. Buried alive? Family murdered and staged to look like it was him? Oh god.

You close his file and hand the files back to the Captain “here sir, thank you for letting me read through them.” You say and force a smile.

He nods and stands up “shall we finally take you to your room?” He asks and you nod eagerly. “Yes please” you say and he chuckles.

You’re walking with Price through the halls when you hear a voice calling for him. You instantly recognize it and you tense up “Captain!" Simon jogs up to you— more to the Captain but whatever—

“Can we talk?” Simon asks and you avoid eye contact with him. “Sure just a minute, go to my office I’ll be there in 5” the captain says and you hear a gruffy ‘copy.’

The Captain showed you your new room and then dismissed himself to go meet the Lieutenant. Now you’re sitting on the floor, leaning to your bed— which is surprisingly big.

What are you going to do?

Avoiding him all together would be the best plan but you work together so you don’t want to make it more difficult. Acting clueless? No. He will see through it, you know he would. Maybe just avoid the subject? Yeah. That seems the most reasonable idea.

You sigh and press your face to your hands. You don’t know Simon anymore, so you don’t know how he would— will react.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock. You think to ignore it but then the person on the other side of the door knocks again— but this time softer.

Then you hear your name being called and you freeze at the voice. It’s him— it’s Simon. You slowly start getting up from your sitting position and start creeping towards the door.

Your hands are shaking while you slowly reach to the door handle. You open the door and see him. He looks as anxious— if not more than you. You swallow “Simon.” You exhale and suddenly you’re being pushed back inside of your room, he steps in and slams the door shut.

You don’t know what to expect. Him to yell at you? Maybe.

But no. You’re being pulled in to an embrace.

“I couldn’t find you—“ Simon rasps out while he’s gripping you for dear life. You sneak your arms around his torso. “I thought you were dead” you say

“I thought you were GONE, Simon.” You choke up and suddenly your legs are giving out and he grumbles to the floor with you. He presses his hand on your head and you sob to his chest “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” You yell at him and hit his chest over and over again.

He grabs you hand and brings it on his heart. “I’m sorry.” Is the only thing he says to you. You can’t say anything to him, you’re just leaning on him. You shake your head in disbelief, you still can’t believe he is alive.

You need to get away from him, you can’t— You can’t do this again. You have already lost him once you can’t risk to go through the pain again. You are both in the military, the job doesn’t promise you coming back from the missions. You’re soldiers, its not allowed to love another soldier. Especially when he’s your lieutenant. But you do love him, oh how you love this man.

The first night you heard he was dead you couldn’t sleep, you threw up all night. The heartbreak was suffocating, you can’t do that again.

You push yourself away from him and get up. You turn your back to him and try to take deep breaths. You hear a small thump on the floor which you assume is something he dropped but still don’t turn back to look.

He calls your name. You shake your head “I can’t do this Simon. I can’t lose you again, i can’t go through that pain again— I just—“ You try to explain but you can’t think straight.

He says your name again but softer. It makes you look at him and you freeze. He’s still on his knees but he took his mask off. You haven’t seen his face in years, oh how he has grown in to his features. Scarred face but still so so handsome, your fingers twitch to touch his face.

A tear slips down your face, you’ve missed him so much. You take your gaze from his face to the wall and close your eyes. You exhale and furrow your brows.

You open your eyes again and turn around. You cant resist the temptation to go to him. You walk towards him and he just stares at you. “Si” you whisper, mostly to yourself but emotion in his eyes flicker when you say his nickname you called him through out the years.

He’s looking up at you, not much because he’s so damn large hes almost to up to your chest even though you’re standing up and he’s kneeling on the floor. You are standing in front of him, smiling slightly you reach your hands towards his face to touch him. You brush over his features and all his scars. He leans in to your touch and closes his eyes.

“I missed you, Simon” you say to him and his eyes open again. The emotion is plastered in his eyes “I know” he says and you frown in confusion, how could he know how much you’ve missed him?

“I missed you too, Dove” he says and smiles to you. You freeze, the nickname he had used for you is now your callsign and you know he knows why.

You sit back down next to him. He raises his arm to loop around your shoulders and you lean back to his touch. Pressing your face on his chest you breathe him in.

“You know I was going to propose you.” He says and you flinch up to look at his eyes in shock.

“I mean not right away, I had this plan. I was going to ask you to a date with me, with good luck you would have said yes, we would’ve dated for a few years, maybe moved in together to a nice place like you deserved. Then I would’ve taken you out on to the beach you loved so much, have a picnic and ask you to marry me.” He tells you and you feel tears building up.

“I would have said yes you know.” You tell him and he looks surprised. “I’m sorry I gave up on you Simon.” You apologize and look down to avoid eye contact.

“No. I should’ve had worked harder to find you.” Simon shuts you down and tilts your head back from your chin to look at him. “I saw your mother.” He tells you— oh.

“How was she?” You ask and he smiles. “She was shocked to see me, cried a bit. She told me that she hadn’t seen you in years.” He says and you frown.

“I just— I couldn’t go back. There was too many memories it was too painful.” I explained looking to the wall frowning.

He exhales “sweet girl” he says to get your attention back to him. You look back to his eyes, he holds a comforting look in them.

“I can’t lose you again Simon.” You tell him trying to swallow your tears. His hand goes to your cheek “You won’t. I promise you” he says sternly.

“You know I love you, right?”

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty imagine #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x fem!reader

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